Transcriber's Notes: Italic text is marked _thus_. Apparent
typographical errors have been corrected and hyphenation standardised.
COUNTRY RAMBLES.
[Illustration: _Rostherne Mere._]
COUNTRY RAMBLES,
AND
Manchester Walks and Wild flowers:
BEING RURAL WANDERINGS IN
CHESHIRE, LANCASHIRE, DERBYSHIRE, & YORKSHIRE.
BY
LEO H. GRINDON,
_Author of "The Manchester Flora," "Manchester Banks and Bankers,"
"Lancashire: Historical and Descriptive Notes," and other works._
If thou art worn, and hard beset
With sorrows that thou wouldst forget;
If thou wouldst read a lesson that will keep
Thy heart from fainting, and thy soul from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills! No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.
LONGFELLOW.
MANCHESTER:
PALMER & HOWE, 73, 75, AND 77, PRINCESS ST.
LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO.
1882.
MANCHESTER:
PALMER AND HOWE, PRINTERS, 73, 75, AND 77, PRINCESS STREET
[Illustration]
PREFACE.
The following pages consist, in part, of a reprint of the little
volume published in 1858 under the title of _Manchester Walks and
Wild-Flowers_;--in part, of brief _excerpta_ from the author's accounts
of trips made by the Field Naturalists' Society, as given in their
Annual Reports, 1860-1881. A very considerable amount of new matter
will also be found.
Giving descriptions in a novel and welcome manner, of pretty places
in the neighbourhood previously unknown to people in general, and
indicating in various ways the pleasure to be derived from rambles in
the country, the little volume spoken of is believed to have assisted,
in no slight measure, to awaken and foster the present widespread local
taste for rural scenes, and for recreation in the pursuit of practical
natural history. It is in the hope that similar results may ensue among
the present generation that the book is now partially republished.
It has long been unprocurable, and is constantly enquired for. The
reprinting presents also a curious and interesting picture of many
local conditions now effaced.
The preface to the original work of 1858 contained the following
passages:--"No grown-up person who has resided in Manchester even
twenty years, is unacquainted with the mighty changes that have
passed over its suburbs during that period; while those who have
lived here thirty, forty, and fifty years tell us of circumstances
and conditions almost incredible. Neighbourhoods once familiar as
delightful rural solitudes, are now covered with houses, and densely
crowded with population; the pleasant field-paths we trod in our youth
have disappeared, and in their stead are long lines of pavement,
lighted with gas, and paced by the policeman. In a few years it is not
improbable that places described in the following pages as rustic and
sylvan will have shared the same fate, and be as purely historical as
Garratt Wood and Ordsall Clough. The Botany of the district will to a
certain extent be similarly affected. No longer than fifteen years ago
(_i.e._ in 1840) the fields by St. George's Church, in the Chester
Road, were blue every March and April with the spring crocus, and on
the very spot where Platt Church now lifts its tall and graceful spire,
there was a large pond filled with the _Stratiotes_, or water-aloe.
If the past be a prognostic of the future, it is easy to guess what
will happen to other things, and to understand how in half a century
hence our present 'Walks' will have become as obsolete as their
author, and the entire subject require a new and livelier treatment.
A descriptive history of the suburbs of Manchester as they were fifty
years ago, would be a most interesting and valuable item of our local
literature. It would be as curious to the lover of bygones as this book
of to-day may perhaps appear to the Manchester people of A.D. 1900.
How extraordinary would be the facts may be judged from the following
extracts from De Quincey, whose youth, it is well known, was passed
in the neighbourhood of Manchester. Mark first what he says of the
_place_ he lived in. 'And if, after the manner of the Emperor Aurelius,
I should return thanks to Providence for all the separate blessings
of my early situation, these four I would single out as worthy of
special consideration,--that I lived in a _rustic solitude_; that this
solitude was in England; that my infant feelings were moulded by the
gentlest of sisters; and finally, that I and they were dutiful and
loving members of a pure, and holy, and magnificent church.' And now
mark where lay this 'rustic solitude.' He is describing the expected
return of his father:--'It was a summer evening of unusual solemnity.
The servants and four of us children were gathered for hours on the
lawn before the house, listening for the sound of wheels. Sunset came,
nine, ten, eleven o'clock, and nearly another hour had passed without
a warning sound, for Greenhay, being so _solitary a house_, formed a
"terminus ad quem," beyond which was nothing but a cluster of cottages,
composing the little hamlet of Greenhill; so that any sound of wheels
coming from the _country lane which then connected us with the Rusholme
Road_, carried with it of necessity, a warning summons to prepare
for visitors at Greenhay.' 'Greenhay' was the centre of the modern
Greenheys, and the 'hamlet of Greenhill' the predecessor of the present
Greenhill Terrace."
The changes foreboded have to an extent not unimportant, already come
to pass. Almost the whole of the great suburb which includes the
Alexandra Park has grown up since about 1860, effacing meadows and
corn-fields. In the contemplation of this new scene of busy life there
is pleasure, since it signifies human welfare and enjoyment. In other
directions, unhappily, the change has been for the worse, as indicated
in the notes to the original portraiture of Boggart-hole Clough, Mere
Clough, and the Reddish Valley. Before deciding to visit any particular
place in the immediate neighbourhood of the town it will be prudent,
accordingly, to read to the end. Never mind. Few things ever go
absolutely. Against the losses we are able to put the opportunities for
enjoyment in localities opened up by recent railway extensions,--places
quite as charming as the extinguished ones--it is simply a question now
of a little longer travel.
The present volume, be it remembered, is neither a gazetteer nor an
itinerary. The limits are too narrow for its making pretensions even
to be a Guide-book, though the style, often, I am aware, too swift
and abbreviated, may give it the semblance of one;--it proposes only
to supply hints as to where and how to secure country pastimes. While
constrained to leave many places with only a touch, others have been
treated so admirably by Mr. Earwaker, Mr. Croston, and Mr. Waugh, that
to tread the same ground would, on my own part, be alike needless and
ungraceful. Others again I have described only within these few months
in the "Lancashire," to which work I may be permitted to refer the
reader for particulars not here given.
Except in some few instances, I have not cared either to give minute
directions as to paths and gates. One of the grand charms of a rural
ramble consists in the sensation, at times, of being slightly and
agreeably lost; to say nothing of the pleasure which comes of being
called upon to employ our own wits, instead of always asking, like a
child, to be led by the hand.
If, when visited, some of the places seem over-praised, it must further
be understood that the descriptions are of their appearance in pleasant
weather, in sunshine, and when cherished companions help to make the
hours glad. I can say no more than that the descriptions are faithful
as regards my own experience, and that I hope earnestly they may become
true to the experience of every one else. From this point of view the
little book is a kind of record of what I have seen and felt during
forty years.
Nothing has been written for mere "cheap-trippers." The book is
addressed to the intelligent, the peaceful, and the cultivated; those
who, when they visit the country, desire to profit by its inestimable
sweet lessons. In many parts it is addressed especially to the young,
who have ductile material in them, and are the hope of the future
for us all. Neither has it been written for learned botanists or
antiquaries. The botanical details are simply such as it is hoped may
encourage the beginner. My main desire is to be educational, and by
this I would be judged.
Many of the places described or referred to are strictly private.
Permission to view them must therefore be asked some days before.
Common-sense and the courtesy of civilized beings will prescribe in
every case the proper method of procedure.
I have, in conclusion, to express my thanks to the artists who have so
pleasingly illustrated the work, Mr. W. Morton, and very particularly,
Mr. Thos. Letherbrow.
By some odd _lapsus calami_ the passage from Wordsworth on page 139 has
been mis-written. The third line should read, "So was it when _my life
began_."
LEO H. GRINDON.
MANCHESTER,
MAY 1st, 1882.
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
Page
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY 1
CHAPTER II.
THE ASHLEY MEADOWS AND THE LOWER BOLLIN VALLEY 13
CHAPTER III.
ROSTHERNE MERE, TATTON, DELAMERE 31
CHAPTER IV.
CARRINGTON MOSS, DUNHAM, LYMM 47
CHAPTER V.
GATLEY CARRS, WYTHENSHAWE 68
CHAPTER VI.
NORCLIFFE, ALDERLEY EDGE 84
CHAPTER VII.
COMBERMERE, BEESTON CASTLE 93
CHAPTER VIII.
THE REDDISH VALLEY, ARDEN HALL 100
CHAPTER IX.
PRESTBURY, POTT SHRIGLEY, GAWSWORTH, ALTON TOWERS 111
CHAPTER X.
DISLEY, LYME PARK, TAXAL 121
CHAPTER XI.
MARPLE, CASTLETON, MILLER'S DALE 129
CHAPTER XII.
KINDER SCOUT, STALEY BRUSHES, SEAL BARK 139
CHAPTER XIII.
BOGGART-HOLE CLOUGH, BAMFORD WOOD, HARDCASTLE CRAGS 151
CHAPTER XIV.
MERE CLOUGH, THE AGECROFT VALLEY 175
CHAPTER XV.
THE OLD LANCASHIRE BOTANISTS 194
CHAPTER XVI.
ROSSENDALE, WHALLEY ABBEY, CLITHEROE, PENDLE 213
CHAPTER XVII.
RIVINGTON, ASHURST, LATHOM HOUSE 232
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE LOCAL ORNITHOLOGY 257
CHAPTER XIX.
NATURAL HISTORY IN THE LIBRARY 291
SUMMARY OF RAILWAY STATIONS AND DISTANCES 303
INDEX 313
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.
Page
ROSTHERNE MERE. Drawn and Engraved by W. Morton, _Frontispiece_.
OLDFIELD, DUNHAM. Drawn and Etched by Thos. Letherbrow 64
BARLOW HALL. Drawn and Etched by Thos. Letherbrow 82
LYME HALL. Drawn and Etched by Thos. Letherbrow 124
HALEWOOD CHURCH. Drawn by W. Hull, Etched by Thos. Letherbrow 168
HALE HUT. Drawn and Etched by Thos. Letherbrow 254
[Illustration]
Country Rambles.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
Wide as may be the circle covered by a great town, we come to the
country at last. Let the bricks and mortar stride far as they will over
the greensward, there are always sanctuaries beyond--sweet spots where
we may yet listen to the singing of the birds, and pluck the early
primrose and anemone. We need but take our survey from a sufficiently
high point, to see that the vastest mass of houses ever heaped together
by man is still only an encampment in the fields. Like the waves of the
sea upon the shores of the islands, the surge of the yellow corn is
still close upon our borders. We need but turn our faces fondly towards
rural things and rural sights, and we shall find them.
Manchester itself, grim, flat, smoky Manchester, with its gigantic
suburb ever on the roll further into the plain, and scouts from its
great army of masons posted on every spot available for hostile
purposes,--Manchester itself denies to no one of its five hundred
thousand, who is blessed with health and strength, the amenities and
genial influences of the country. True, we have no grand scenery;
no Clyde, no Ben Lomond, no Leigh Woods, no St. Vincent's Rocks, no
Clevedon, no Durdham Down; our rivers are anything but limpid; our
mountains are far away, upon the horizon; our lakes owe less to nature
than to art; as for waterfalls, we have none but in our portfolios.
Still is our town bosomed in beauty. Though the magnificent and the
romantic be wanting, we have meadows trimmed with wild-flowers, the
scent of the new-mown hay and the purple clover; we have many a sweet
sylvan walk where we may hear
The burnie wimplin' doon the glen,
and many a grateful pathway under the mingled boughs of beech and
chestnut. Next to a fine woman, the most delightful object in creation
is a noble and well-grown tree,--a group of such trees always reminds
us of a bevy of fair ladies; and dull and unthankful must be the man
who, in the tranquil and sacred shades of Alderley and Dunham, cannot
realise to himself the most genuine and heartfelt pleasure that
trees and woods can give. If they be not so sumptuous as the oaks of
Worcestershire, or so stately as the elms of Surrey, our trees are as
leafy and as green, and their shadows fall as softly on the summer
afternoon. The great secret in the enjoyment of nature, as in our
intercourse with society, is to look at its objects in a friendly
light, to make the most of them, such as they are; not invidiously
contrasting them with certain other objects at a distance, but
recognising that absolute and positive beauty which is possessed by
the very humblest. Superadd to this the habit of connecting our own
feelings and emotions with the forms of nature, and, however wanting
in attractions to the mere adulator of "fine scenery," every little
flower, every bend of the branches, and sweet concurrent play of light
and shade, every pendent shadow in the stream, becomes animated with a
meaning and a power of satisfying such as none but those who accustom
themselves to look for it _here_, can find in the most favoured and
spacious landscape. Justly to appreciate the wonderful and rare, we
must first learn to regard with a tender and intimate affection the
common and the unpretending; in the degree that we withdraw from the
latter, treating it with indifference or contempt, as surely does our
capacity diminish for the former. The common things of earth are the
most gracious gifts of God. None of us extract their full value, yet
every man holds it in his power to make himself tenfold happier by a
wise use of them. For true and continuous enjoyment of life is not
attained by the gratification of high-flown and artificial wants,
connected in large measure with the idea of pounds, shillings, and
pence. It is found in the culture of love for common things, the
untaxed game that no man can deprive us of, and which constitute the
chief part of the beauties of the country. Hence the worth of nature
to the poor. If the rich have their gardens and hothouses, here are
flower-beds and parks, fresh from God's own hand, without money, and
without price, and greater than the estates of all the nobles in the
kingdom. Hence, too, coming close to home, we may see how little reason
we have to lament the absence of the grand and wonderful, since nothing
less than total nakedness of surface can take from a place its power to
interest and please.
While adapted to give true pleasure, if looked for in a kindly spirit,
no less fertile is our neighbourhood in materials for a large and
practical culture of natural science. Most of the sciences may be
cultivated by Manchester residents to perfection. For geology there are
certainly fewer advantages than invite men to it in the neighbourhood
of some other large inland towns. But what scope there is for botany
and entomology is attested by the numbers of students of both these
charming sciences who have adorned the ranks of our working men
during the last half century.[1] Caley, Hobson, Crozier,[2] Crowther,
Horsefield, among those no longer in this life; Percival, Carter,
Evans,[3] still among us, have reflected honour upon Manchester as a
spontaneous working men's college of natural history, such as might
deservedly be envied by the proudest institution in the land. These men
acquired their knowledge in the scenes we speak of, and from nature's
"common things." The plants of the fields and hedgerows, the insects
of the moors, were their inspiration and instruction, the source at
the same moment of a thorough and pure delight; for while they are the
least expensive of pleasures, the naturalist's are also the truest and
most abiding. No one inexperienced in botany would imagine how many
wild-flowers are found growing about Manchester. Taking the area which
would be marked out by measuring a circle round the Exchange, fifteen
miles from it in every direction, six hundred different species were
catalogued in 1840.[4] Buxton's "Guide," printed in 1849, included one
hundred and fifty others, mostly accidental omissions from the earlier
list. Our own "Manchester Flora," 1858, in which everything is brought
up to that time, contains over twenty more, though, in consequence
of the diversity of opinion as to what plants should legitimately
be included, the figures are probably much about the same as in the
"Guide," namely, seven hundred and fifty. These seven hundred and
fifty comprise the flowering plants, the trees, and the ferns. The
number of mosses, fungi, lichens, and other flowerless plants, usually
regarded as a separate subject of study, is in the aggregate probably
quite as great, making a total of some one thousand five hundred
perfectly distinct forms. Not that they are all equally abundant. We
must distinguish between what botanists call the "Flora" of a given
district, and its vegetation. The "Flora" may be large, and yet the
mass of the vegetation consist of but few different kinds, the same
plants repeated over and over again, as when hills are covered for
miles together with heath and whortleberries. Such is the case with
Manchester. Though there are seven hundred and fifty different kinds
of flowers and ferns contained in our "Flora," probably not half the
number go to constitute the general herbage of the district. Some
species are very rarely met with, only once in the season perhaps.
But this is so much the more pleasing to the botanist, since it keeps
his enthusiasm vigorously alive. In addition to the living objects of
interest so freely supplied by the fields and woodlands, Manchester
naturalists have a singular privilege in the local Free Libraries
and museums. The museum at Peel Park is in many departments rich and
extensive, and nowhere in the world can we consult books of greater
value, or illustrated more magnificently, than are to be had for the
asking in Camp Field,[5] at the Chetham College, and again at Peel
Park. All three of these admirable libraries contain works on botany
and entomology which it is really melancholy to think are so little
known by the bulk of our town's people, when they might contribute to
an almost endless delight. Let it not be supposed that we are speaking
of botany, entomology, etc., as proper to be made the chief business
of life. "A man," said Dr. Johnson, "is never so well employed as when
he is earning money." Yes. One of the best friends a man has in the
world is a good round balance at his banker's, the fruit and reward
of his own toil. We speak of them as employments for the _intervals_
of business, which it is quite as important to occupy carefully and
diligently as the hours of business themselves. The more delight
derived from the contemplation and study of nature a man can pack into
his leisure moments, the keener, it is certain, will be his aptitude
for his ordinary duties. It is not only delight of spirit either that
comes of attention to nature; there are the salutary effects of it
upon the body. Rambling in the fields, the town-cobwebs get dusted out
of one's lungs, and the whole frame becomes buoyant and elastic. Good
as is a bathe in the cold water, scarcely inferior, when the skin is
clean, is a good bathe in the blowing wind.
With these inducements and recommendations to the love of nature so
amply spread before us, we purpose introducing our readers to the
principal scenes of rural beauty in the immediate neighbourhood,
those sweet side-chapels in the grand cathedral which no locality is
absolutely without. The experience of half a life-time has shown us
that no trifling source of pleasure is such familiarity with nature as
we hope to encourage. Days gone by are made brighter to recollection;
the present are filled with the same pleasures; for it is the peculiar
property of the happiness induced by the love of nature, that if we
are trained in youth to seek and find it, when we are old it will not
depart from us;--even the future is made cheerful and inviting by the
certainty that, leaving us our eyes, nature for her part will never
grow old nor look shabby, not even in winter, which is decorated in its
own way, but will always, like the Graces, be young and lovely. That
which truly keeps life going is sensibility to the romance of nature.
Youth and age are measured fictitiously if we count only by birthdays.
Some things always find us young, and make us young, and though love
and kindness may be the best known of these, none act more powerfully
than does the sweet smile of living nature. It is in conversing with
nature, moreover, that we learn how foolish are affectation and
sentimentalism; how poor we are in leisure for mournful musing and
fruitless reverie; that the truest and most precious pleasures are
those which are the manliest; how rich we are in opportunities for
affection and generosity. The facilities for reaching the most charming
and sequestered spots are now so great and manifold that no one need
be a stranger to them. It is not as some fifteen years ago,[6] when
they were only to be reached by a long walk, which consumed the half
of one's time, or by a specially engaged conveyance, the expense of
which compelled one's excursions to be like the angels' visits, few
and far between. The railways, penetrating every nook and corner, now
enable us to reach the very heart of the country in a very little
while, fresh and nimble for our enjoyment, and, when over, the same
will bring us home again. Honoured for ever be the name of Stephenson!
It is in facilitating men's intercourse with nature, and the purest
and most ennobling recreations they can enjoy and are capable of, that
the social blessings of railways have their highest realisation. Vast
is their use to commerce, but still vaster their unreckoned friendship
to health and healthy-mindedness. Now, also, there are more persons
prepared to supply our wants in the way of "Tired nature's sweet
restorer, balmy _tea_." Time was when the alehouse by the roadside,
or the weary walk back to town, were the only choice open to our poor
hunger and fatigue. But with the Saturday half-holiday, and the impetus
it gave to rural visitings, there has sprung up a readiness on the part
of country folks to open their doors in a hospitable spirit, which is
quite tempting and delightful; and, most assuredly, nothing forms so
pleasant a conclusion to an afternoon's ramble as to sit down in a neat
cottage to a comfortable farmhouse meal, with its huge broad piles of
bread and butter, and inexhaustible store of green salad and new-laid
eggs. There, with the sun shining aslant through the old-fashioned
window, the doors open, and the breeze gently peeping in, the cows
lowing in the pasture, and the very atmosphere redolent of the country,
we realise the fine hearty pleasurableness of a good appetite,
such as only the open air can induce, and learn the sweet savour of
the plainest diet when wisely earned. And this not only because of
the relish which comes of the exercise in the fresh air, but of the
higher relish born of that mutual satisfaction and kind feeling which
always follows a friendly visit to Dame Nature. People never feel more
attached to one another than when they have been enjoying the charms
of nature together; while the rose mounts to the cheek, the glow comes
upon the heart. We should court nature therefore, not only for our
own private and personal good, but if we would quicken our reciprocal
affections. Especially with regard to this latter point, is it valuable
to have some definite pursuit--something to attend to in particular
when we go out for an afternoon's or evening's walk. A stroll in the
fields is at all times good and healthful, but when two or three go
out together to look for plants, or in search of curious insects, or
to watch the movements, the manners and customs of the birds, quite
unconsciously there get established new and pleasing links of sympathy,
which lead to happiest results, both to head and heart. Some of the
firmest friendships that we know of have had their origin in the
exchange of ideas over a wild-flower. One of the noblest prerogatives
of nature is to make men friends with one another. In the town we
stand apart, excited and repelled by selfish and rival interests; but
in the tranquillity of the fields and woods, united in delightful
and invigorating pursuits, jealousies are forgotten, every man is
an equal and a brother. Not the least useful end either, that flows
from culture of love of the country, and particularly of some science
having reference to natural objects, is the perennial employment it
supplies for leisure hours at _home_. Half the mischief that boys
commit comes of their having no intelligent and useful occupation
for their playtime. As large a portion of the lax morality of their
elders may be referred to the same cause. A naturalist never has any
idle moments; if he be not at work in the country, he is busy with his
curiosities indoors. Little private collections of natural objects,
such as dried plants, insects, fossils, or shells, are always valuable,
and always pretty, and a perpetual fund of interest and amusement. To
gather together such things is not only highly instructive, and an
agreeable pursuit, through the prolonged and intelligent observation
which it demands; it is useful also as feeding the pleasure of
possession--a noble and worthy one when well directed; and it has the
yet higher recommendation of providing a diary and immortal record of
past pleasures. A volume of dried plants, gathered on occasions of
memorable enjoyment, becomes in a few years inexpressibly precious, an
aid to memory, and thus to the perpetuity of those enjoyments, which
even pictures give less perfectly, for here we have the very things
themselves that were handled and looked at during those bright and
fleeting moments. Such a volume of memorial-plants now lies on the
table before us, spreading before the mind the souvenirs of forty
years. In another part of this little book will be found instructions
as to the method of commencing such collections. Meanwhile, we have
cordially to recommend the idea to our readers, especially the young,
and invite them to accompany us in these rambles.
[Illustration]
Footnotes
[1: _i.e._ since, in round numbers, about 1810.]
[2: Father of Mr. Robert Crozier, president, since 1878, of
the Manchester Academy of Fine Art.]
[3: The two last-named now also deceased.]
[4: In the _Flora Mancuniensis_, dictated by the Natural
History Class of the Mechanics' Institution, then in Cooper-street.]
[5: The "City Library," now in King-street.]
[6: _i.e._ in 1843.]
[Illustration]