John Jones said that if certain mists did not intervene we might descry "the sea of Liverpool"; and perhaps the only thing wanting to make the prospect complete, was that sea of Liverpool.

We were, however, quite satisfied with what we saw, and turning round the corner of the hill, reached its top, where for a considerable distance there is level ground, and where, though at a great altitude, we found ourselves in a fair and fertile region, and amidst a scene of busy rural life.

We saw fields and inclosures, and here and there corn-stacks, some made, and others not yet completed, about which people were employed, and waggons and horses moving.

Passing over the top of the hill, we began to descend the southern side, which was far less steep than the one we had lately surmounted.

After a little way, the road descended through a wood, which John Jones told us was the beginning of "the Park of Biddulph." "There is plenty of game in this wood," said he; "pheasant cocks and pheasant hens, to say nothing of hares and coneys; and in the midst of it there is a space sown with a particular kind of corn for the support of the pheasant hens and pheasant cocks, which in the shooting-season afford pleasant sport for Biddulph and his friends." Near the foot of the descent, just where the road made a turn to the east, we passed by a building which stood amidst trees, with a pond and barns near it.
"This," said John Jones, "is the house where the bailiff lives who farms and buys and sells for Biddulph, and fattens the beeves and swine, and the geese, ducks, and other poultry which Biddulph consumes at his table." The scenery was now very lovely, consisting of a mixture of hill and dale, open space and forest, in fact the best kind of park scenery.