Entwistle, the station next beyond Turton, gives access to a bit of water-scenery that would scarcely be expected. Lymm and Hollingworth have prepared us for magnificent reservoirs; "Entwistle Lodge," the embankment for which was constructed about fifty years ago, is little inferior in beauty. As at Lymm, it has given existence also to a dell beneath, into which, after heavy rain, causing the water to overflow, there descends a cataract of at least a hundred and fifty feet fall. The dell is the only place near Manchester where the lily-of-the-valley appears to grow truly wild. In autumn it abounds with golden-rod, ferns, hawkweeds, and the blue jasione, and upon the slopes, as in Hurst Clough, there are many bushes of the deepest-coloured of the wild English roses, the _Rosa villosa_. A romantic natural dell called "The Jumbles," near Edgworth, is also rich in wild-flowers, but a factory having taken possession, it invites one no longer.
The valley through which the railway pursues its course, running on to Darwen, and thence to Blackburn, is one of those which perfectly illustrates the rich character of the Lancashire uplands. An excellent idea of its various wealth is gathered from near the Scout, when on the way to Smithills, and even while travelling it is impossible not to perceive how fruitful is every part in the picturesque, particularly in amphitheatres receding among the hills, which if somewhat naked, still always have a cheerful look. All the way, moreover, there is the noble spectacle of human activity. Langho station, a quarter of an hour beyond Blackburn, opens the way once more to pleasing novelty of scene, not to mention its ancient and beautiful little chapel, the oldest place of Christian worship in Lancashire still used as one, and from which it is no more than a pleasant walk of two or three miles to Whalley itself, the locality of the earliest Christian preaching in our county. Here it was that Paulinus, in 627, made his first efforts to convert the Northumbrians--crosses in the ancient graveyard commemorate the event, memorials of pious labour which belong, in truth, not more to this once lonesome valley than to the nation. The church, immensely venerable, portions of it being Norman, is crowded with interesting antiquities, and would itself well repay the journey, even were there no Whalley Abbey alongside; say rather the few portions of the grand old pile that have been spared by Time, and by that still heavier despoiler, man bent on destruction. The abbey, founded in 1296, belonged to the Cistercians, and, as usual with that fraternity, was dedicated to the Virgin, whence the sacred monogram M still discoverable upon some of the relics. Like all other abbeys, it was for more than two hundred and forty years a place of refuge for every one who needed succour or counsel. Within its consecrated precincts there was always wisdom to guide the inexperienced, and charity to relieve the famishing and distressed. The dissolution of the monasteries in the calamitous year 1539 by a monarch who thirsted less for reformation than for spoil, brought everything to an end; and though the building itself was not demolished till some time afterwards, the delay was less designed than accidental. Eventually the very stones were scattered far and wide; hence there is no identifying the various portions as we do at Furness, and Fountains, and Tintern, and Glastonbury, and Rievaulx. The archæologist conversant with monastic ruins is able to trace them, but for the ordinary visitor, after the abbot's house, long since modernised, and the two grand old gateways, there are only a few grey and shattered walls, some fragments of arches, and broken corridors. The extent of the abbey grounds, enclosed partly by the river, partly by an artificial trench or moat, exceeds thirty-six acres. The building itself appears to have consisted of three quadrangles, the westernmost holding the cloisters, and being edged upon the north by the wall of the church. There were, in addition, as usual, stables and outer offices. In the presence of so vast an extinction, it is pleasant to mark the abundance of trees now growing within the ancient boundaries; and more particularly to note the taste with which in ancient nooks of aisle and corridor, clumps of green fern have been planted by the owner or resident, Mr. Appleby. At one time these most interesting ruins were opened to the public as freely as the church. Now they are virtually closed, owing to the misconduct of a party of excursionists--not from Manchester--the innocent, as in so many other places that have been abused, suffering for the guilty.