Knutsford, celebrated as the scene of Mrs. Gaskell's "Cranford," commands many pleasant walks, and is the threshold not only to Tatton, but to several other parks and estates of great celebrity. Booth Hall, with its noble avenue of lindens, the winding sylvan wilderness called Spring Wood, and its ample sheet of ornamental water, decked with lilies, and in parts filled with that most curious aquatic, the _Stratiotes_, is of considerable historic interest;--Toft, a mile to the south, with its stately avenue, now of elms, in triple rows;--and Tabley, about a mile to the west, the park once again with a spacious mere, also have high claims upon the attention of every one who has the opportunity of entering. Tabley is peculiarly interesting in its ancient hall, which stands upon an island in the upper portion of the mere, and dates from the time of Edward III. Only a remnant now exists, but being covered with ivy, it presents a most picturesque appearance. When will people see in that peerless evergreen not a foe, but an inestimable friend, such as it is when knives and shears, and the touch of the barbarian are forbidden? It is the ivy that has preserved for the archæologist many of the most precious architectural relics our country possesses. Where ivy defends the surface, nothing corrodes or breaks away.
Toft Park gives very agreeable access to Peover,--a place which may also be reached pleasantly from Plumbley, the station next succeeding Knutsford. Not "rich" botanically, the field-path is still one of the most inviting in the district. The views on either side, cheerful at all seasons, are peculiarly so in spring, when the trees are pouring their new green leaves into the sunshine, and the rising grass and mingled wild-flowers flood the ground with living brightness. In parts, towards the end of May, there is hereabouts an unwonted profusion of Shakspeare's "Lady-smock." We admit, admiringly, that it "paints the meadows with delight:"--to the first impression, when gathered and in the hand, it scarcely seems "silver-white." A single spray in the hand is unquestionably _lilac_, faint and translucent, but still lilac, exquisitely veined. Beware. Shakspeare, when he talks of flowers may always be trusted. At all events his only error is that curious one in _Cymbeline_.[8] Viewed from a little distance, and obliquely, the effect of a plentiful carpet of this lovely wild-flower is distinctly and decidedly "silver-white." In all things a good deal depends upon the angle at which we look, and never is the rule more needed than when the subject is one of delicate tint. They were keen observers, depend upon it, who in the Middle Ages gave name and fame at the same moment to the pretty flowers that still preserve the ancient association with "Our Lady," the Virgin Mary. Lower Peover church is one of the few examples extant of the old-fashioned timber structure, the greater portion of the interior being constructed of oak, while externally, excepting the stone Elizabethan tower, it is "magpie," or black and white, like so many of the old Cheshire halls and ancient manor-houses. An epitaph in the graveyard is not without suggestiveness:--