CHAPTER X.

DISLEY AND MARPLE WAY.

So shalt thou keep thy memory green, And redolent as balmy noon With happiness, for love makes glad; Child-natures never lose their June.

S. E. TONKIN.

When the L. and N. W. opened its branch from Stockport to Buxton, June 15th, 1863, every one loving the country had visions of immense delight among the sweet and then scarcely known hills of Disley and Marple. Previously, they were no more than an element of the scenery observed from the Buxton coach. Since then we have better understood the meaning of those grateful lines,

You gave me such sweet breath as made The things more rich.

For if the fronts of these beautiful hills be sometimes rugged, there are none that the western breezes better love to caress, nor are there any that welcome the sunshine with a more strenuous hospitality. Disley and Marple count not with the places which the sunshine only flatters; they are always cheerful and pretty, whether it be the hottest day of July, or winter, or spring. Even after a storm, be it ever so vehement, they recover themselves as rapidly as a child's cheek after the tears. How great and affable, too, their landscapes!--how bright their lawn-like pastures, where tricolour daisies bloom all the year round: there are woods moreover, in the recesses, where we may bathe our eyes in the sweet calm that comes only of green shade, and that like the airy summits up above, give at the same moment both animation and repose.

Disley is known to most of us as the first station after Hazel-grove, and the point from which departure is taken for Lyme Park. Intermediately there is a delightful walk, reaching the greater part of the distance, upon the right-hand side of the line, through the sylvan covert called Middlewood. The wood is not "preserved." It is semi-private, nevertheless, so that permission to pass through ought to be asked; it is rare, even then, to hear any voices except our own and those of the birds. Either to ascend, or to proceed by train direct to Disley, and enter the wood at the head, is, in its way advantageous. The latter is, perhaps, the better course, since we then accompany the stream,--one of the very few so near Manchester still unpolluted. The water is the same as that which flows past Bramhall, running thence to Cheadle, where its bubbles swim into the Mersey. Middlewood, unfortunately for its primitive charm, has recently shared the fate of Gatley Carrs, so that the path is now very inconveniently obstructed, and the Bramhall part of this pretty brook, instead of being the inferior, is to-day, perhaps, after all, the most pleasing. Comparisons may be spared. The meadows it traverses were never wanting in any substantial element of pastoral charm, and if a thing be good absolutely, what need to ask for more? The way to them is _viâ_ Cheadle Hulme, then to Lady Bridge, as far as Bramhall-green, there crossing the road, and stepping anew upon the grass, where the path returns to the water-side. Hence, we go on to Mill-bank farm, told at once by its three great yews, and for the return may take Hazel-grove.

The broad green slopes and expanses of Lyme Park, though they partake of the loneliness of the neighbouring moors, are, as indicated above, pleasant at every season of the year. Nature, in truth, is always good, no matter what the season is, if the people are so who seek it. As we traverse them, in the south-west the eye rests upon the great plain that stretches to Bowdon; upon the left, on a swelling height, is the far-seen square grey tower called Lyme Cage, clearly intended, when built, for a huntsman's refuge; and passing this it is not far to the hall, upon which, being in a hollow, one comes so suddenly as to be reminded of the adventures of the knights-errant in tales of chivalry. A very fine quadrangular gritstone building, partly Corinthian, partly Ionic, some portion is nevertheless of the time of Elizabeth. The interior is also very various, in many portions stately and richly ornamented, and literally crowded almost everywhere with works of art, including a rude picture of the original hall in the time of King John, with portraits, heraldry, tapestry, stained glass, and wood-carving enough to satisfy the most ravenous. The rare mosaic of fact and fiction currently accepted as the family history of the Leghs is well sustained by the armour and other antiquities, not the least interesting of which is the font in the chapel, in which for ages the youthful scions of the house have been baptized. There is very little timber in the park, though on the borders not wanting. The most remarkable feature, as regards trees, is an avenue of over seventy lindens.

The supreme part of Disley is that which lies on the contrary side of the station, consisting in the green and lofty crest called Jackson Edge. This is reached by going a short distance along the Buxton road, then mounting a steep ascent upon the left, cottages on either side, and eventually through a lane upon the right. Due west from the summit, like a garden viewed from a balcony, the plain seen from Lyme Park is displayed even more variously. When satisfied, we may curl round by the stone-quarries, then through the fir-wood, and so back into Disley village,--a little tour just enough for those who not being very strong of limb, still go shares with the strongest in zest for mountain breath and extended prospects; or we may leave Disley again behind, and, crossing a few meadows, mount glorious Marple Ridge.[17] Here the prospect becomes wider and more varied still: filling one also with astonishment that so much can be commanded at the cost of so little labour. The fact is that the railway does half the climbing for us, the line from Hazel Grove to Disley being almost a slope. Standing with our backs to Disley village, on the right towers the great green pyramid called Cobden Edge; then come the hills that rise above Whaley Bridge and Taxal, Kinder Scout resting upon their shoulders. In front are hills again, Werneth Low, always identified by the sky-line fringe of trees; Stirrup-benches and Charlesworth Coombs, and the three-hill-churches always remembered by their corresponding initial, Marple, Mellor, and Mottram, with Chadkirk and Compstall in the valley. Southwards, Lyme Cage and Lyme Hall, the latter half-hidden among its trees, are discoverable; and due west is the great plain now familiar,--that one which includes Vale Royal, and reaches to Chester. Let all who make a pilgrimage hither remember, as when they visit Gawsworth, to bring their opera-glasses, which however useful when there is curiosity as to a cantatrice, have nowhere a more excellent use than on the mountain-side. Cobden Edge, from its greatly superior altitude, overlooks even Marple Ridge! To reach it, after leaving Disley station, cross the wood a little beyond the hotel, and go down a steep lane, arriving presently at a slit in the wall upon the right, through which it is necessary to sidle as best one may. The canal has then to be crossed, and the river Goyt, after which there is a little glen leading the way to the path up the hill. On the top, all the grandeurs of Marple Ridge are renewed five-fold. Alderley has nearly subsided into the plain. Beeston Castle is conspicuous. Some say they can descry the great Ormes-head. Pursuing the road along the crest of the hill, we soon arrive at Marple village; or descending from it, upon the right, get almost as soon into the beautiful valley of the Goyt. Both, however, since 1867, have been rendered so much more easily accessible by means of the Midland railway, that they may be left for another chapter, the more particularly since a few miles' continued ride from Disley brings us to another charming neighbourhood--that one which comprises the above-mentioned Whaley Bridge and Taxal.

The most manageable of the many pleasant walks within reach of the latter, is that one which leads to Taxal church, following the high road till a white gate upon the right opens into meadows descending into a dell, where the swift and limpid waters, if they do not exactly make "shallow falls," at all events invite the birds to sing their madrigals. Quitting the dell, the path is once again upwards, soon reaching the church, and after leaving this, through the grove of trees and along the foot of the reservoir, the overflow from which often seems a rushing snowdrift. This fine sheet of water is one of several similar storages prepared for the Peak Forest Canal, and supplies an admirable illustration of the service rendered to scenery by business enterprise, which if it sometimes destroys or mutilates, as in the case of Gatley Carrs, compensates in the gift of broad and shining lakes. An excellent characteristic of the great Lancashire and Cheshire reservoirs is that ordinarily, when in the country, like this one at Taxal, they resemble, as nearly as possible, natural meres. Established, as at Lymm, by damming up the narrow outlet of some little valley through which a stream descends, the water, as it accumulates, is allowed, as far as practicable, to determine its own boundaries; hence, excepting the one inevitable straight line required for the dam, though this can sometimes be dispensed with, the margin winds, the banks become shore-like, and the landscape is exquisitely enriched. No landscape is perfectly beautiful without water, and nowhere has so much been done undesignedly for scenic beauty than in our two adjacent counties. The same is true of the addition given by noble railway-arches to hollows filled with trees. Scenery impregnated with the outcome of human intelligence and human skill must needs, in the long run, always take deepest hold of our admiration, for the simple reason that human nature is there; just as the most precious and delightful part of home is that which is superadded by human affection. From the high grounds above the water the outlook is wonderfully romantic; when upon the crest of the hill there is an inviting walk also under the trees. For the vigorous, the best part of Taxal is after all upon the Derbyshire instead of the Cheshire side of the river, mounting continuously for two or three miles, and so eventually reaching Eccles Pike--a grand, green, round hill in the middle of a huge green basin. Beyond Whaley Bridge come in turn Doveholes and Buxton.

At Buxton, once the _El Dorado_ of local naturalists, the visitor finds picturesque beauty and historical associations, even if he be not in search of the recruited health which this celebrated old town is supposed to be always so willing to supply. Plenty of exhilarating rambles may be found within the compass of an afternoon, the hills being lofty, while for those who cannot climb there is the romantic valley of the Wye, called Ashwood Dale.

Footnote

[17: It may be permitted here to note that when on Jackson Edge we are close to the home of the accomplished authoress of the well-known and always welcome letters "From the Lyme hills."]