{"id":1049,"date":"2024-11-06T11:21:00","date_gmt":"2024-11-06T11:21:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newton-le-willows.com\/wp\/?p=1049"},"modified":"2024-11-09T15:17:41","modified_gmt":"2024-11-09T15:17:41","slug":"the-lake-poem-by-j-h-lane","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/?p=1049","title":{"rendered":"The Lake – Poem by J H Lane<\/span>"},"content":{"rendered":"

I.<\/b> FULL sixty years ago, a pretty vale
\n(Now hidden neath the waters of the lake)
\nExtended, in a winding course, from where
\nThe railway arches span the road and brook,<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

To Castle Hill, and thence, diverging, ran
\nEastwards to Golborne Dale, and westwards joined
\nThe little sylvan valley of the Dene.
\nAdown each vale a rippling streamlet flowed,
\nWhich, at the hill commingling, journeyed on
\nTwixt flowery banks, and murmured past the spot
\nWhere now the strong embankment separates
\nThe winding lake and willow-shaded brook,
\nUntil it reached the now dismantled mill,
\nAnd, through the mill-race rushing, turned the wheel
\nThat ground the millers corn. Thence issuing,<\/p>\n

The stream meandered on to Red Bank farm,
\nWhere Cromwells army put the Scots to flight
\nWhat time the Civil Wars made streams of blood
\nTo flow throughout the land ; then glided on,
\nPast sainted Oswalds favoured seat, to lose
\nAt length its waters in the Merseys tide.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Along this pretty vale (so ancients tell)
\nThe villagers, on summer eves, would stroll
\nTo Castle Hill, and there, beneath the oaks,
\nWould sit and listen to the throstles lay
\nOr trill of lark ascending to the skies ;<\/p>\n

And also there the country swain would make
\nHis loving plaint to maiden at his side.<\/p>\n

But soon a change came oer this lovely scene?
\nFull many a load of boulders, wood, and clay
\nWas tumbled in the vale, and slowly rose
\nThe strong embankment now with trees and shrubs
\nAnd many-coloured rhododendrons crowned.
\nThe noise of woodmans axe and falling trees
\nResounded through the dell ; the willows tall
\n(Which gave the little town its pretty name)
\nWere felled; the stream oerflowed its banks and clomb
\nThe valleys sides ; and, to ! the lake was made.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

But, ere the embankment settled firm and strong,
\nTorrential rains descended, and the lake,
\nIn swollen pride, high oer the outlets dashed,
\nPloughing a channel through the quaking dam;
\nWhilst apprehension filled the little town!
\nThen suddenly the rainy torrent ceased,<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The lake subsided, and the breach was closed.
\nThen with the finny tribe the lake was stocked?
\nThe dace with silvery scales, the prickly perch,
\nThe greedy pike, the ample-sided bream,
\nThe gaily-speckled trout, the slippery eel,
\nAnd little rounded gudgeon found a home
\nWithin its waters, and fast multiplied.
\nThe lake became well known for miles around,
\nAnd many a goodly catch of fish repaid
\nThe anglers silent watch and patient skill.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The banks were pleasantly diversified.
\nWith leas and little woods, in which the oak,
\nThe beech, the sycamore, the birch, the ash,
\nThe willow, rowan, thorn, and cherry-tree
\nIn season flourished. Scattered here and there,
\nThe modest primrose nestled near the fern,
\nWhence dewy eyes of violets shyly peeped;<\/p>\n

And hyacinths an azure carpet spread
\nBeneath the beechs verdant canopy;
\nThe foxglove reared its stately stem aloft
\nBedecked with drooping bells of pinky hue;
\nAnd hawthorn white its fragrance shed around;
\nWhile from the edge, the brambles spreading shoots,
\nWith snowy bloom arrayed, oerhung the stream,
\nTo change in time to luscious jetty fruit.<\/p>\n

All in the trees the feathered songsters sang?
\nThe mellow-throated blackbird poured its lay;
\nThe speckled-breasted throstle loudly piped;
\nThe linnet and the chaffinch gaily chirped;
\nThe robin and the sparrow swelled the choir,
\nAnd murmuring bees the harmony enhanced.
\nFrom intervening meadows larks arose,
\nTheir throats aquiver with sweet melody;
\nAnd, hidden in the beeches of the park,
\nA colony of rooks did loudly caw;
\nThe kingfisher, with undulating flight,
\nSkimmed oer the placid surface of the mere ;
\nThe dusky martin made its summer home
\nWithin the sandy burrows of the delf;<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

The swallow sought the shady nooks where flies
\nAnd gnats did most abound, and filled its crop
\nFor callow offspring neath the cottage eaves.
\nFrom mong the rushes by the water-side,
\nThe water-hen forsook her reedy nest,
\nAnd, with her brood of little fluffy chicks
\nDisporting in her wake, she fearfully
\nSet out upon her journey down the mere.
\nIn unfrequented nook, the heron stood,
\nAll silent and alert, ready to strike
\nThe finny prey that rashly ventured near.
\nThe swans, with arched wings, sailed proudly oer
\nThe rippled deep, their stately, snowy forms.
\nReflected in the limpid wave; and ducks,<\/p>\n

With sallow broods surrounded, sought the reeds
\nAnd water-flags in quest of insect food.
\nFrom ferny covert near the hill, the cluck
\nOf startled pheasant smote the ear, and soon,
\nOn whirring wings, she sped across the mere,
\nFast followed by her brighter-plumaged mate,
\nTo disappear among the bracken green ;
\nWhile from her burrow nigh the spreading thorn,
\nWhose snowy blossoms scent the morning breeze,
\nThe timid, weasel-fearing rabbit stole
\nTo feed upon the fragrant clover-buds
\nOr gambol with her young on daisied lea;
\nAnd neath the jutting margins of the lake,
\nThe water-rat all unmolested roamed
\nIn search ,of fish or anglers fallen bait.<\/p>\n

Soon pleasure-boats were placed upon the lake,
\nAnd parsons with their Sunday-schools and choirs
\nCame picnicking from all the country round,
\nAnd sweetly sang their choruses and hymns;
\nAnd many a pleasant afternoon was spent
\nBy friends on visit to the villagers,
\nWhich brought no little trade into the town.
\nSuch were the sights and sounds on Newton Lake,
\nOn summer days, some fifty years ago ;
\nAnd then, on winter days, when Boreas
\nWith icy breath had frozen all the lake,
\nHow gaily rang the voices of the lads
\nAnd lasses as they skimmed the slippery floor!<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

II.<\/b> And now, my fair one, come along with me,
\nAnd let us step into this little boat,
\nAnd, while you take the tiller-lines and steer,
\nIll take the oars and row you round the lake,
\nAnd tell you stories of my youthful days,
\nWhen with my mates I strayed along its banks,<\/p>\n

Across its surface sped with sail and oar,
\nOr bathed and angled in its waters deep.<\/p>\n

Now, as we leave the little stage behind,
\nAnd point the prow towards the willowed brook,
\nWell notice on your right the meadow green.
\nT was here the little fleet of boats was kept
\nUpturned in winter. In the centre grew
\nA sturdy oak, round which a rope was lashed
\nThat held a block to draw the boats ashore.
\nOne autumn day four lads were busy there
\nHauling the boats up high upon the bank,
\nAnd as they hauled the rope broke suddenly,
\nPrecipitating two into the lake,
\nWhence they emerged, all dripping and subdued,
\nTo scamper home and change their wet attire.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

A little further on, and we have gained
\nThe overflow?a well both wide and deep?
\nDown which, in time of flood, the water falls
\nAnd rushes through a tunnel, underneath
\nThe strong embankment, to the brook beyond.
\nUpon the northern side two shafts appear,
\nWith winding apparatus at the top
\nTo raise an iron cover at their base
\nAnd liberate the water from below.
\nFrom these two upright shafts, some years ago,
\nA sloping bridge extended to the bank,
\nOer which, when floods prevailed, the keeper walked,
\nWith iron key, to raise the heavy door.<\/p>\n

The bridge is gone, the heavy door is jammed
\nAnd rusted in the grooves, and so the lake,
\nFrom month to month, a higher level keeps
\nAnd cannot be reduced as heretofore.
\nOnce, in the rainy season, when the lake
\nWas pouring deeply oer the outlets brim,
\nTwo lads had ventured near, when suddenly
\nThe current drew full half the boat across
\nThe yawning gulf. In fear they climbed the bow
\nAnd scrambled on the bridge ; then, landing, ran
\nTo tell the. keeper of the accident.
\nHe, in a larger boat, with man and rope
\nDrew near, and fastening the rope astern
\nThe imperilled craft, with strenuous oar pulled back
\nThe boat that, left, might soon have toppled oer.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

With lingering oar, now glide we by the darn,
\nAnd drink the breeze so redolent of bloom
\nOf white and crimson hawthorn and of shrub.
\nSoon we have reached the feeder of the mill?
\nA narrow tunnel running through the darn,
\nThe mouth concealed by a heavy door
\nSet in a wooden frame, with winding gear
\nTo lift or drop to suit the millers need.<\/p>\n

Hard by a passage led into the road,
\nWhere trippers often landed from the boats
\nTo gain the station by.a shorter route.
\nAnd here my theme demands a sadder note
\nTo claim your tender-hearted sympathy,
\nFor near a love-lorn maiden drowned herself.
\nAh me! t is two and forty years ago
\nThe deed was done that moved the town to tears !
\nNot far removed a village damsel dwelt
\nIn service with a kind old widower
\nAnd maiden relative. She happy seemed
\nUntil she met a youth, who courted her
\nAnd her affections won. But she was told
\nThat he was false and wooed another maid ;
\nAnd this so preyed upon poor Lizzies mind,
\nShe sought to end her broken-hearted life.
\nShe first a letter to her mistress wrote,
\nIn which she told her grief and her intent,
\nAnd one to him whom she so dearly loved,
\nAnd then, in darkness, plunged into the lake.
\nThe brook was vainly dragged, and then the mere
\nWas tried, and hereabouts the maid was found
\nWith clenched hands and high uplifted arms,
\nAs though her latest act was that of prayer.
\nWith decent care, she in a cart was laid
\nAnd slowly taken to her childhoods home ;
\nAnd, as the silent form was borne within,
\nWhat words can tell the parents agony !<\/p>\n

Come, dry your tears, and let as onward move
\nTo other scenes! Upon the bank, above
\nThis tiny bay, the little son of him
\nWho built the stately mansion on the cliff
\nWas one day fishing in the lake for pike,
\nAnd, as he drew the spinning bait ashore,
\nA sturdy fish from out his lair rushed up
\nAnd seized it. Then the fight began. The pike,
\nWell hooked and smarting, darted to and fro,
\nWhile gaily spun the reel till all the line
\nWas out and taut. The lad held bravely on,
\nBut for a while the fish did stronger prove,
\nAnd pulled him from the bank into the lake.
\nAt length the fishs efforts ceased, and then
\nThe lad, with rod oer shoulder, dragged the pike
\nBehind him up the field into the house,
\nWhere he received the praise that was his due.<\/p>\n

A few yards onward, where the sloping cliff
\nDips to the level of the flowery mead,
\nOnce stood a donkey-house?used years ago
\nBy two young fellows as a dressing-room !
\nYou smile! But listen to the story first!
\nTwo worthy scions of a noble race
\nOft hither came to sail a little boat
\nEquipped with canvas, and a heavy stone
\nAs ballast underneath the middle thwart.
\nAnd what more joyous, healthy sport than this-
\nTo scud before the wind with bellied sail
\nOn even keel ; or, tacking oft, to skim
\nThe lake with starboard or with larboard list!
\nFrom Castle Hill they sped before the gale,
\nAnd, passing Redclyffe, tried to tack across,
\nWhen suddenly a stormy gust oerturned
\nThe little craft and tossed them overboard.
\nThe heavy ballast sank the little boat ;
\nBut the young fellows quickly swam ashore,
\nAnd rushed into the donkey-house, and turned
\nThe shaggy tenant out. Their sorry plight
\nWas told unto the lady of the house,
\nWho sent her husbands long-discarded clothes;
\nAnd there they doffed the wet and donned the dry.
\nWith grappling-irons the little boat was raised,
\nAnd, after, ploughed the lake for many years.<\/p>\n

Yet other scenes demand our notice here :
\nSee where the sandy soil above the cliff
\nIs thickly honeycombed with tiny holes!
\nAnd see the martins darting in and out
\nIn loving tendance on their progeny !
\nNow let us rest betwixt these little isles,
\nWhereon the ducks did nest and hatch their broods,
\nAnd view the quarry whence, methinks, was hewn
\nThe stone to build the chapel that once stood
\nWhere stands our noble church upon the hill.
\nThe chapel then the name of “Rokeden” bore?
\nThat is, “a rocky valley filled with trees,”
\nWhich fittingly described the ancient vill
\nBuilt on the borders of the rocky dene.
\nWhen I was young, this stony delf was kept
\nA trim parterre, with flowers of many hues?
\nThe haunt of bird and bee and butterfly.
\nAnd when, in prentice days, I studied
\nFrench At evenings with a local dominie,
\nIn reading “Teleuiaque” by Fenelon,
\nI pictured in my mind this fairy scene
\nAs beautiful Calypsos island grot !<\/p>\n

A few more strokes, and presently we reach
\nA spot where, when the lake was drained to build
\nThe archway oer the brook at Golborne Dale,
\nWe youngsters found a spacious mussel-bed ;
\nAnd much we wondered whence these mussels came,
\nAnd why so many in the lake were found.
\nNow, let me pull across this narrow creek,
\nAnd skirt the bank of leafy willow-trees ;
\nAnd soon we round a shallow point whereon
\nA parson with some ladies ran his boat,
\nAnd knew not how to float her off again.
\nWith oar in hand, he stepped into the bow
\nAnd pushed with all his might, without avail.
\nAt length he called for help, and then was told
\nTo get into the stern, which done, the boat,
\nWith lightened prow, slipped off the shallow point?
\nWhich long thereafter bore his name of ” Brown.”<\/p>\n

Along this bank, how oft, in schoolboy days,
\nWith silent oar I ve rowed thee, Doctor I,eete,–
\nThou ruthless slayer of the greedy pike !
\nWith memorys eye I see thee now, erect,
\nAlert, with rod in hand, ready to strike
\nDid but the tip of tail or fin appear.
\nI see the fishs splash as, pricked, he darts
\nFrom right to left, then downward plunges ;
\nAnd hear the music of the spinning reel
\nAs, yard by yard, the line unwinding speeds !
\nThou lettst him run his reckless, mad career,
\nKnowing full well his struggles soon will cease.
\nI hear thy voice, “Unship your oars and lay
\nThem in the boat ; stand ready with the net!”
\nWith tightened.line thou drawest him to the boat,
\nAnd soon the great twelve-pounder lies full length
\nBeneath the thwart. ” Put back to land!” thou sayest;”
\nAnd I will pack him up, and send him off To
\nDisley as a present to the Squire ! ”<\/p>\n

We gain the field betwixt the little woods,
\nDirectly opposite the southern end
\nOf that small wood which runs to Castle Hill.
\nHow often we have rested on this bank,
\nIn swimming over from the other side,
\nBefore we crossed again to dress ourselves!
\nIn fancy I can see their faces now
\nThe faces of my mates of long ago.
\nWhere are those happy lads whom once I knew?-
\nA few are settled in Canadian wilds ;
\nAnd some departed to the larger towns
\nTo win their way to fame and opulence ;
\nWhilst two or three have joined the vagrant train
\nAnd wander seeking work from town to town;
\nA few are sleeping in the churchs shade,
\nAnd others drifted far beyond the ken
\nOf anxious friend or grieving relative.<\/p>\n

Such changes Time hath wrought with those I knew.
\nThe noisy plash of oars hath frighted now
\nThe water-kingfisher with vest of blue.
\nQuick ! note his waving flight as on he wings
\nTo settle in you hyacinthine bloom !
\nHe sallies forth alone, perchance to lure
\nUs from the spot where, on her tunnelled nest,
\nHis duller-vested mate serenely sits.<\/p>\n

We pass along this wooded slope, and soon
\nWe gain the eastern turn to Golborne Dale.
\nHa! what is this dense mass that blocks our way?
\nThis pleasant reach of water once was clear
\nOf all this filthy mass of mud and weeds;<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

But let us disembark, and stroll along
\nThe southern bank as far as Golborne Bridge,
\nAnd I will tell you how the lake was spoiled.
\nThe time the lake was made, a limpid brook
\n(Yclept ” The Millingford “-) meandering flowed
\nFrom north of Ashton; past the Golborne mills,<\/p>\n

Under the railway arch, into the lake.
\nThe brooklets bed was deeper then than now,
\nAnd often I have pushed my boat beneath
\nThe arch, emerging at the Golborne side.
\nThe brook was stocked with fish, and many a creel
\nWas filled there from in olden days; but now
\nThe water of the brook is foul and black,
\nIn which swims nought but fever-spreading rat.
\nFirst boiling water from the Golborne mills,
\nAt intervals, was turned into the brook,
\nWhich killed the fish full half-way down the reach.
\nYes, bream and dace and perch and little pike,
\nIn dozens, I have seen, parboiled, upturned,
\nAnd floating there?to be devoured by rats!
\nThis flushing of the brook brought down the mud
\nAnd sediment into the lake ; then mills
\nAnd works along the brook contributed,
\nUnchecked, their refuse to the muddied stream;
\nThen, thirty years or more ago, a cry
\nAgainst the lakes pollution roused to action
\nOur board of Makerfield Commissioners.
\nForthwith a deputation was arranged
\nTo sail the lake from end to end, and sniff
\nThe water here and there, and samples take
\nFor test by chemical analysis;
\nAnd then the matter slept, to be aroused,
\nFrom time to time, to fall asleep again!<\/p>\n

Retrace we now this path along the bank,
\nAnd note, with gladdened eye, yon noble beech
\nWith boughs depending oer the sullied stream.
\nThink you, my dear, that Nature eer designed
\nThose beautiful light-green serrated leaves
\nShould shade the waters of a sewage-farm ?
\nAh no ! The stream was once so pure and clear
\nThat you could see the pebbles in its bed.
\nI still remember well, one summer noon,
\nRepairing here to angle for the perch,<\/p>\n

And, such the clearness of the stream,
\nI saw The fishes ope their mouths to seize the worm !
\nAnd note that cutting in the stony bank,
\nJust large enough to hold a boat for two ;
\nT was called ” The Lovers Nook “; and I have seen
\nSome charming pictures in that little spot,
\nThe while the laughing ripples lapped the boat;
\nBut now the slimy waters cannot lap,
\nOr sing their erstwhile pleasing melody
\nTo happy lovers in the shady nook !
\nAnear this nook was once a fenced pool,
\nWherein, in summer-time, the farmer washed
\nHis fleecy flock ere they were sheared for wool;
\nTo-day no farmer comes to wash his sheep?
\nThe fence is vanished and the pool is dry.<\/p>\n

Give me your hand, and let us re-embark,
\nAnd I will row along this northern bank.
\nHere note the little passage through the trees,
\nWith steps to mount into the field above.
\nA stage was here, to which was locked a boat
\nBelonging to the tenant at the hall.
\nAbove the steps was erst a pebbled road
\nWhich crossed the valley, either side the stream,
\nAnd pointed towards the early British town
\nOf Lowton in the east. A little on
\nWe pass the boat-house built into the lake,
\nAnd row beneath the pretty bridge which leads
\nTo Golborne Hall. Still on we glide along
\nThese tall ancestral trees, wherein the rooks
\nHave made their dwellings long ere we were born.
\nAnd view with pride this pretty sylvan scene
\nWhich stretches hence unto the dam above!
\nWe reach the brook that runs from out the dam
\nAnd empties in the lake. Those bulrushes
\nAnd waterflags have been the nesting-place
\nOf swans for many years, yet, strange to say,
\nNo cygnets have been seen upon the lake !<\/p>\n

Oh ! mark, my dear, as round we turn our craft,
\nThat lovely bank of hyacinths in bloom,
\nBeside that gnarled oak which hath withstood
\nThe stormy blasts of nigh a century.
\nThere have I found the cowslip and the primrose,
\nWhen, as a boy, I roamed these fields among.
\nWe pass beneath the bridge, and stay a while
\nAt Castle Hill, on which one tree is seen,
\nWhere formerly ten venerable oaks
\nTwined mighty branches round its verdant crest.
\nThe hill has lost its past rotundity,
\nFor seventy years ago its grassy sides<\/p>\n

Were tunnelled, and straight downward from the crest
\nA shaft was sunk into the level mead ;<\/p>\n

And there the miners found a chamber small,
\nHalf-circular in form, wherein were laid,
\nOn little tiers of oak, the calcined bones
\nOf one deemed worthy honoured sepulture.
\nT is said a ghostly lady clad in white,
\nAt midnights witching hour or twilight gray,
\nWas seen to flit all silently around
\nThe barrow old ; but since the sacred spot
\nWas desecrated by the pick and spade,
\nHer nightly flittings round the hill have ceased.
\nBeneath the hill, where late a withered oak
\nOerhung the lake, a rocky cave was scooped,
\nWhich bore the name of Robin Hood, the bold.<\/p>\n

With sturdy pull and feathered oars, we glide
\nBeside this sloping bank of rugged oaks,
\nWhose withered limbs proclaim their hoary age.
\nThe hedge that fenced it from the level field
\nHas been removed. How often I have scanned
\nThis hedge in search of nests, and from the bank
\nHave culled the wilding flowers that grew below !
\nWe skim along the dipping meadow land
\nAnd reach the little creek of rushes tall?
\nThe home of amber-headed dragon-flies.
\nA copious stream of water from the drains
\nOf many fields here flowed into the lake,
\nAt which the fishes found a feeding-place
\nA spot well known to village fishermen.
\nA few more yards, and we have gained the place
\nFrom which we started just an hour ago ;
\nAnd, as I help you land, may I express
\nMy thanks for your delightful company,
\nAnd hope my musings have not failed to please !<\/p>\n

\n


\n“I once or twice explored the whole watercourse from the point where the three parishes of Havdock, Golborne, and Newton-le-Willows meet, near the outlet of the Dean Dam, and where there is or was a freshet or well near to the Rocky Dean and the old Dean School, down to the Golborne Dale Bridge, and often went through the tunnel under the railway in a boat with William Hicklenton, when we were both ser?geants in the 73rd Volunteers, out of which we went to the Rifle Range, which we had both assisted to make, and notably the earthwork at the top of the ravine?a work that employed the whole company but a very short time. I remember that I was looked upon as an expert because I had a very sharp-edged spade and could fill a barrow in a very few minutes. After this the range on the Moss was opened, and the other discontinued because there were complaints of stray shots on the Queens highway. Exactly opposite to the Castle Hill were some cottages, but I have no distinct recollection of them, though I have of the well that stood in the brook, and into which I fell when skating after it became a lake ; indeed, there were several wells along the head of the lake, giving evidence that at some remote period this dell or dale might have been more populous than it was within the memory of man. Mr. B.
\nB. Glover once told me that the oldest name for this settlement known on the Estate Plans was Rocky Dean. Well, Denn (or ” deighu,” as it is pro?nounced) was the Anglo-Saxon for ” a valley ” or ” hollow,” and furnishes a reason for the newer or Newton,” which is the Danonorm name.?(See Rasks “Anglo-Saxon Grammar,” Thorpes edition.) ” Some say that dene or denne, whereof dena commeth, is properly a valley or dale. Dena silvice and the like, as drofden, or drnfden, or druden, signifieth a thicket of wood in a valley ; for drrif, or dru, signifieth a thicket of wood, and is often mentioned in Domesday. And sometimes clena or denna signifieth, as villa or denn, a toane.”?(See Coke upon Littleton “<\/i><\/p>\n

Institutes of the Laws of England, 1794.”) I have always thought that, in the earliest
\nperiod, ” Rokeden ” was the “old town” as distinct from the “Newtown,” and may have
\nextended all along the Dean and Lady Hill valley, as well as downward to the Mill and up the Dale. Newton in Latin is de novel villd, in French la neuve vine. Alfreds purpose in founding the monastery of Hyde (900), first called New Minster, was carried into effect by King Edwards charter of A.D. 901. and a second, the year of his accession, A.D. 903, so that the adjective “new” as part of a name is at least a thousand years old in English history. Alfred died A.D. 901. ” Their fortresses or towns consisted in the natural defence of impene?trable forests.”?Cs. Bel. Gal. VI. I have always been of opinion that old St. Peters Church was built of stone from the dell near Castle Hill, for before the mere was formed there was quite a quarry hole there.”? Peter Mayor Campbell.<\/p>\n

\n

Before the lake was made, old Newtonians tell us that, midway between the embankment and the bridge, there were stepping-stones over the brook, which was shallow at this spot, and that the drivers of carts would splash with them through the stream and drive up the road which came out near “The Willows” gates, rather than go round by the bridge and up what was then called Bridge-street. They also tell us that Under the spreading willow-trees The village smithy stood, which was a lock-up shop owned by one Bradshaw, and was situated on the brook side of the road nearly opposite the Tea-well. Of course, as the brook filled up the stepping-stones became submerged, and the,village swain lost the opportunity of continuing his gallantry in helping his lady-love over the stream. Our ancients further inform us that the County Bridge was in its present position before they were born. In our day the railings were placed on the bridge to prevent youthful village Blondins from walking across to the danger of a duckiiig in the brook. That there was a bridge in Newton so long ago as the commencement of the seventeenth century is attested by the subjoined extract from “The Manuscripts of Lord Kenyon,” published by The Historical Manuscripts Commission:<\/p>\n

1633. Aug. 13. Wigan. Sir Peter Leighe, who is at Haidock, desires copies or notes of the orders made at the Sessions, for building bridges, for two or three years last past,
\nsince the building of Newton Bridge.<\/p>\n

\n


\n“I was both in and about the smithy like every other village urchin, and with other lads
\nexplored the whole valley up and down many a time, though the lower portion, near the Slopes, was a tangle of brushwood, where we went a-nutting, before it was enclosed and Mr. Birleys house was built. Of course, when the embankment was made, there was a popular outcry that the appearance of the whole valley would be spoiled. But first the embankment burst, owing to an unusual rainy season, and before the earthwork had time to settle, which by some was said to “serve them right” for destroying several very pleasant walks, notably one to Castle Hill.”<\/i>? Peter Mayor Campbell.<\/p>\n

\n

Transcribed for use in the Newton le Willows Website, by Steven Dowd, from the 1914, Vol I, Newton-in-Makerfield, by John Henry Lane.<\/p>\n

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I. FULL sixty years ago, a pretty vale (Now hidden neath the waters of the lake) Extended, in a winding course, from where The railway arches span the road and brook, To Castle Hill, and thence, diverging, ran Eastwards to Golborne Dale, and westwards joined The little sylvan valley of the Dene. Adown each vale a rippling streamlet flowed, Which, at the hill commingling, journeyed on Twixt flowery banks, and murmured past the spot Where now the strong embankment separates The winding lake and willow-shaded brook, Until it reached the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4193,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[102,9],"tags":[33,88],"class_list":["post-1049","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-local-hstory","category-newton-history","tag-newton-le-willows","tag-newton-poems"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1049","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1049"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1049\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4202,"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1049\/revisions\/4202"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4193"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1049"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1049"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newton-le-willows.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1049"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}