CHARNWOOD FOREST.

[Illustration: RUINS OF BRADGATE HOUSE.]

We have now come into Leicestershire, and in that county, north of

Leicester City, is the outcropping of the earth's rocky backbone, which

has been thrust up into high wooded hills along the edge of the valley

of the Soar for several miles, and is known as Charnwood Forest. It

hardly deserves the name of a forest, however, for most of this strange

rocky region is bare of trees, and many of the patches of wood that are

there are of recent growth. Yet in ancient years there was plenty of

wood, and a tradition comes down to us that in Charnwood once upon a

time a squirrel could travel six miles on the trees without touching the

ground, and a traveller journey entirely across the forest without

seeing the sun. The district consists of two lines of irregular ridgy

hills, rising three hundred to four hundred feet above the neighboring

country. These ridges are separated by a sort of valley like a Norwegian

fjord, tilled with red marl. The rocks are generally volcanic products,

with much slate, which is extensively quarried. Granite and sienite are

also quarried, and at the chief granite-quarry--Mount Sorrel, an

eminence which projects into the valley of the Soar--was in former times

the castle of Hugh Lupus, Earl of Chester. In King John's reign the

garrison of this castle so harassed the neighborhood that it was

described as the "nest of the devil and a den of thieves." In Henry

III.'s reign it was captured and demolished; the latter fate is

gradually befalling the hill on which it stood, under the operations of

the quarrymen. Near these quarries is the ancient village of Groby,

which was quite a flourishing place eight hundred years ago, and has not

grown much since. This village belonged to the Ferrars family, and an

heiress of that family was the unfortunate Queen Elizabeth Widvile.

About two miles away is Bradgate, a spot of rare beauty and interest,

the history of which is closely connected with Groby. On the end of one

of the ridges of Charnwood, just where it is sinking down to the level

of the surrounding country, stands Bradgate House. The surrounding park

is quite wild and bare, but there are fine old oaks in the lower

portions. From the ancient house a beautiful dell, called the Happy

Valley, leads to the neighboring village of Newtown Linford. Bradgate

House was destroyed in the early part of the last century by its

mistress. The Earl of Suffolk, who then owned it, brought his wife, who

had no taste for a rural life, from the metropolis to live there. Her

sister in London wrote to inquire how she was getting on. She answered,

"The house is tolerable, the country a forest, and the inhabitants all

brutes." In reply the sister advised, "Set the house on fire, and run

away by the light of it." The countess took the advice, and Bradgate

never was rebuilt.

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