The Lathom pleasure–grounds and gardens are not less beautiful than the wood. In the former, among many other rare and admirable trees, there is a plane, in Lancashire quite a stranger; this one the very emblem of health and nobleness, a sight, as Dame Quickly says, “to thank God on:” the latter teem with interesting hardy herbaceous plants, quite refreshing to behold after the inlay of chromatic geometry which at the present day is so often substituted for a garden. The flowers, in great abundance and variety, are chiefly of the kinds that the poets and artists always loved, those that have been sung of in a thousand simple verses, which the poets still love best of all, and which, when neatly and nicely marshalled and tended, keep up an unrelaxing flow of tinted loveliness from the time of Christmas–roses and yellow aconites until that of the last lingering asters of November. Access to this charming place is for the favoured few not beyond the range of the possibilities. Never yet, when properly asked, has the Earl of Lathom refused to give proof of generous courtesy such as distinguishes the Lancashire gentleman and the English nobleman.

Not far from Lathom Park there is another very interesting old family seat, Blythe Hall, the residence of the Hon. Mrs. Bootle–Wilbraham. This is approached most pleasantly from Burscough, through lanes, meadows, and corn–fields, and in its garden, like Lathom, and, we may add, like Cheshire Tatton, gives delightful guarantee that, despite the enmity of modern planters, genuine floriculture will, with the tasteful, outlive them all. There are fit and proper places, no doubt, for every style and system of flower–planting. Any mode that pleases a considerable number of rational people is proved, by the simple fact of its doing so, to be right under certain conditions, local ones, and limited. The misfortune is that “bedding–out” very generally implies, if it does not necessitate, the abolition of a thousand things that are individually and supremely meritorious, the piece of land which it embosses becoming only by a euphemism, “a garden,” and this at infinitely greater pains than if cultivated.

When at Blythe, it would be a pity to forget that at a few fields’ distance remains exist to this day of the once celebrated and stately Burscough Priory. The fragments, for they really are no more, consist of portions of one of the principal interior arches, deeply sunk in the mass of earth and rubbish accumulated after the overthrow of the building, the arched head of a piscina alone declaring the ancient level. The ruins seem to have stood untouched and grey, as at this moment, for at least a couple of centuries. The grass comes up to their feet, and looks as if it had been there always. Very interesting, however, is it to note, close by, orchards comparatively young, in their season full of honey–plums and damsons; corn also, within a few yards, the fruit and the grain renewing to–day what no doubt was the exact spectacle five hundred years ago. The priory was founded by Robert Fitz–Henry, lord of Lathom, temp. Richard I. It was richly endowed, and at the time of the suppression required as many as forty servants. Some of the Stanley monuments, and eight of the bells, were then removed to Ormskirk church, where a new tower was built for the reception of the latter, the remainder going to Croston. The mutilated alabaster effigies of knights and ladies from the old Derby burial–place, form one of the most interesting of the many attractions of remarkable Ormskirk. Excepting a few portraits, these effigies, strange to say, are the only extant art memorials of that ancient line! A tablet, an epitaph, even a gravestone in honour of a Derby of the lang syne, is sought in vain. Knowsley, the present seat of the family, seven miles from Liverpool and two from Prescot, is celebrated for the magnitude, rather than the symmetry, of its splendid hall. Built at very various times, it presents as many different styles. The park, nine or ten miles in circumference, abounds with pretty bits of the picturesque given by trees. Many of these, however, have the curious look presented by such as growing near the shore, are constantly wind–beaten.

From various points near Lathom and Ormskirk there is seen, in the Southport direction, to all appearance a village spire. This indicates, in reality, Scarisbrick Hall, one of the most striking and successful efforts in architecture the county possesses. The ancestors of the Scarisbrick family having owned the estates for at least seven centuries, we learn without surprise that, as in other cases, where the present building now stands there was once a black and white; further, that the family being Catholic, it was well provided with outer defences, and had its “secret chamber” for refuge in times of persecution. The original was in 1799 the residence of the philanthropic Mr. Eccleston at whose cost and under whose guidance Martin Mere was reclaimed. In 1814 all was changed. The old timbered building was cased in stone so completely that now not a trace remains in view; and the general form, a centre with projecting wings, is all that exists in the shape of memorial. But how magnificently effected! The work was entrusted to the elder Pugin, and continued by his son, without stint as to cost, the result being an edifice in the Tudor style, treated with power and opulence so astonishing that all ordinary domestic buildings of similar character seem by comparison insignificant. Sculptures and every kind of decorative stone–work contribute to the wonderful beauty of the vast exterior. Along the base of the enriched cornices or parapets scripture texts have been introduced—“I have raised up the ruins, and I have builded it as in the days of old;” “Every house is builded by some man, but He that buildeth all is God;”—the ample windows, in their turn, are freely traced with lines and patterns of shining gold. The superb tower, which in the distance seems a village spire, erected about a dozen years ago, is over one hundred and sixty feet in height, and is understood to be an exact copy of the Victoria Tower of the Houses of Parliament. The cost of this portion alone approached the sum of £25,000. Gardens and conservatories add to the interest of this splendid place; the former containing a holly, the stem of which, at twenty inches above the ground, is six feet in circumference; while the latter are renowned for their tropical ferns. The very low situation, and the flatness of all the surrounding country, unfortunately prevent this noble building being seen to advantage. It is a marvel, nevertheless, to all who approach. The Scarisbrick family has of late years experienced changes. The present owner of the hall, by marriage to the daughter of the Lady Scarisbrick who died in 1872, is the Marquis de Blandos de Castèja.

Southport should be visited for the sake of its unusually good Aquarium, with Winter Gardens above, a flower–show all the year round; for the beautiful Churchtown Botanical Gardens, the fernery belonging to which has no rival, as regards our own neighbourhood, except at Tatton; and for the Birkdale sandhills, no dreary place except to the dreary–hearted, but in their way so remarkable and picturesque, so richly stored with curious plants, and breathing an air so soft and salubrious that in the north of England they stand alone. In their wild and ever–changing complexion they supply enjoyments quite distinct from the uniformity of a corn and pastoral country. Standing upon their spear–clad ridges, we seem to be surveying a miniature Cordillera. In winter the northward and eastward slopes are flecked with snow, while the southern and western ones bask in the sunshine; mosses of all shades of green and coppery–gold strew the former parts with little islands of sweet brightness; and in July the open plateaux are crowded with the white cups of the parnassia. Up to about twenty years ago, no place in the entire county, excepting Grange, was so rich for the botanist as Southport in general. Building, drainage, and the changes incident to town–extension, have obliterated many of the best localities; still, so long as the Birkdale sandhills remain intact, it will preserve no trifling part of the reputation. The want at Southport is more sea. The tide not only goes out to an incredible distance, but always seems reluctant to return. It is in respect of this that superiority is so justly claimed by Blackpool, the sea at the latter place, save on exceptional days, being always within view, always grand and inspiring.

South Lancashire, viâ the original Liverpool and Manchester line, or that which runs through Barton, offers few attractions to the excursionist, being flat and very seldom relieved by wood and water. The best part of the country traversed by the line in question is that which holds Worsley Hall, the seat of the Earl of Ellesmere, the ground here rising into a terrace which commands a view over the whole of the great plain bounded upon the opposite side by Dunham Park. The summit of the lofty tower at Wren’s Wood, a little to the west of the hall, overlooks or allows of glimpses of no fewer than six counties. Hence it is itself seen from great distances. The grounds pertaining to the hall, access to which is granted at certain times, supply an excellent example of high–class professional laying–out, without exciting the sense of surfeit such as at Alton is scarcely avoidable. The woodland paths are pretty, and in autumn the floricultural part emulates even Vale Royal. The hall, just beyond the village, upon the left hand, is the third of the name. The original, or “Old” hall, a most interesting, quaintly–timbered structure, still exists, and is at present occupied by the Hon. Algernon Egerton. The second was pulled down about twenty years ago. The present magnificent structure, so conspicuous from the railway, was commenced in or about 1839 by the first Earl of Ellesmere, then Lord Francis Egerton, under the superintendence of Mr. Blore, the architect of the new façade of Buckingham Palace. Upon the right–hand side of the road, after emerging from the village, there is a very pretty sylvan adjunct to the park called the Hen Pen, the paths meandering through which often recall the scenery of Mere Clough. The village itself is exceptionally picturesque, the late Earl having encouraged the erection of private houses and other buildings in the style of the old hall, the ancient black and white or “magpie” fashion, these gaining in turn from the happily chosen position of the church, which last is considered to be one of the most successful productions of Mr. Gilbert Scott, and is in any case a most beautiful example of Geometrical Decorated. Worsley may be reached by three different routes. First, there is the station of its own name, upon the Tyldesley line, going thence across the fields. Secondly, there is the old way viâ Patricroft, proceeding thence on foot by the side of the canal, a walk of about two miles. Thirdly, when permission can be obtained, there is the delightful path through Botany Bay Wood, one of the most sequestered to be found anywhere near Manchester. Being strictly preserved, it is of course only at certain seasons, and then only by special favour, that people are allowed to pass through, or can reasonably ask for leave. The entrance to it is from Barton Moss, beginning with the station, then crossing the waste at right angles, so as to step on to a broad causeway which borders the moss in a line parallel with the rails, and after becoming greener and softer, at last enters the wood. Filling the whole of the space between the grounds of Worsley Hall and the edge of the moss, and of purely artificial origin, this charming leafy covert received its somewhat singular name from the workmen by whose labour it was formed. So arduous was the toil demanded by the draining and subsequent planting, that they compared it to the penalty of transportation to the eighty years ago famous “Botany Bay” of the antipodes, the terror of evil doers, and precursor of the Dartmoor of to–day. Barton Moss is essentially a portion or adjunct of Chat Moss, an element of the landscape as surveyed from the higher parts of Worsley, which can hardly be considered cheerful, though rich in interesting associations, foremost among which is the history of the means adopted to overcome the difficulties it presented to the constructors of the original Liverpool and Manchester Railway. The naturalist still finds upon it abundance of welcome objects, including the bog–myrtle, Myrica Galë, one of the very few really indigenous British plants which can be rightfully called aromatic. A surface like Chat Moss, saturated with wet, seems in little danger of ignition, yet no further back than in June, 1868, a very considerable portion was on fire. The conflagration commenced in a plantation near Astley. Within an hour most of the trees were levelled with the ground. A strong wind was blowing at the time, the fire spread rapidly, and the flames and clouds of smoke were seen for miles. Continuing for between four and five days, at last it approached Barton, and only then did it die away. The moss is traversed hereabouts by many ditches cut for draining purposes. They are from five to eight feet wide, and twelve to fifteen feet in depth, and are generally full of water. So powerful, however, was the action of the fire, that when it expired in many of them there was scarcely an inch, and others were entirely dry. A conflagration of similar character occurred in 1790 upon Lindow Common, resulting in the destruction of an enormous quantity of the game then so plentiful there.

Newton–le–Willows, a place of more names than any other in the county, being also called Newton Bridge, and Newton–in–Makerfield, and by sporting men simply Newton, all these superseding the ancient “Rokeden,” gives access to interesting places both right and left. The town itself has its attractions, consisting of little more than the one old original broad street, with plenty of archæological curiosities, which preserves the primitive idea of a rural English village. Some very pleasant walks, partly sylvan, invite us to the northern side, where also will be found a large and picturesque sheet of water. Like Taxal and Rudyard it is artificial, having been formed by barricading the outlets of two small streams—the Dene and the Sankey—which previously occupied little independent valleys of their own, so that the outline of the “lake” so called, is most agreeably irregular. In parts it is abundantly flowered with water–lilies, so easy is it for good taste to confer a pure and lasting ornament. On the southern side of the line the specialty consists in the very ancient and interesting village of Winwick, with its celebrated church and innumerable antiquities, including a runic cross in the graveyard. Thence, by permission, there is a charming walk towards Warrington, first along the old lane in front of the church, then through the grounds and shrubberies attached to Winwick Hall, after leaving which the path becomes public. The rhododendrons at Winwick Hall are probably the oldest, as they are certainly the largest and finest in the district. They give one a perfect idea of the stalwart vitality of this inestimable flowering shrub, and place it before us, in all likelihood, just as developed in its native valleys upon the borders of the Euxine, all these very large and venerable rhododendrons, wherever seen, being the original Ponticum. While the original “anemone” was the flower we now call the cistus, the original “rhododendron” was after all, not our universal garden favourite so named, but a totally different thing—the shrub, originally from Palestine, cherished in greenhouses as the “oleander.” Such, at least, was the application of the name in the times immediately preceding those when Pliny wrote.

On the extreme south–western margin of the county, where the simple rustic streams we found near Marple, the Goyt and the Etherowe, after uniting their strength, and receiving the waters of the Tame, the Irwell, and the Bollin, at length become glorious as the estuary of the Mersey, there remain for us, in conclusion, two of the most interesting places in Lancashire. These are Speke Hall, near Garston, and the village of Hale; the latter possessed of some fine archæological fragments, with, close by, the park and gardens appertaining to the residence of Colonel Blackburne.

Speke Hall is a most charming example of genuine Elizabethan work, affording, both inside and out, some of the best and most characteristic features of the better kind of domestic architecture which came into general use soon after the middle of the sixteenth century. To compare small things with great, it may be described as a miniature Bramhall. It stands only a few minutes’ walk from the edge of the estuary, and in the olden time would often, no doubt, be approached from the water, to which an avenue or arcade of lofty trees at present shows the way. In front the ground is level, consisting of green fields which reach to the garden fence. The want of elevation, as at Scarisbrick, rather hinders full appreciation of the singular beauty of the building, at all events until we draw near enough to perceive that, like nearly all other mansions of the kind, it was originally protected by a moat. This has long since been superseded by turf, the bridge alone remaining to show the depth and width, and the grand old structure now rising up in all its nobleness of design. It is not the original Speke Hall. At the period of the Domesday survey the estate was held by a Saxon thane. After the Conquest, it fell to the share of that famous Norman, Roger de Poictou, who as a reward for his conduct at the battle of Hastings, received so large a portion of Lancashire. Roger, as we all remember, took part in sundry small acts of disloyalty, for which, in turn, he was punished by forfeiture. Subsequently changing hands yet again, at last—perhaps about 1350—the property came to be owned by a branch of the celebrated old family of Norreys (one of the descendants of which fought under Lord Stanley at Flodden, A.D. 1513), and by these the first hall of the name was erected, in what style is not known. Remaining in their possession, Speke, as we see it to–day, was the work of one Edward Norreys, who commemorates himself in an inscription in antique letters over the principal entrance:—“This worke 25 yards long was wolly built by Edw. N., Esq. Anno 1598.” The ground–plan, as in similar halls, consisted of a spacious quadrangular courtyard, buildings occupying all four of the sides, so that by means of the corridors and galleries, any portion can be reached by an inmate without stepping into the open air. The richness of these corridors, the beauty of the wood–carving, and the general ornamentation, it is impossible to describe briefly; some of the carved oak was brought from Holyrood by the Sir Wm. Norreys of Flodden fame. There is a fine collection also of ancient weapons, miscellaneous curiosities, and paintings. A wonderful and probably unique spectacle, as regards our own country, is presented upon entering the quadrangle. A very considerable portion of its large area is occupied by a pair of yew trees, much older than the building itself, and to accommodate which the builder seems to have given his first thought while measuring, not forgetting that while his walls would remain unchanged, the trees would grow. They are not of the same age. The yew being one of the trees which are distinctly unisexual, it is plain that the object in introducing the second individual was to secure red berries, such as are still produced abundantly every year. In 1736 the Speke estate passed, through a marriage, into the hands of one of the Beauclerk family, concerning whom the historians seem to care to say no more than is needful; and in 1780 it was purchased by Mr. Richard Watt, an opulent Liverpool merchant. Continuing in his family, it is now held by the lady—Miss Ada Watt—whose kindly permission to enter the gates is indispensable.