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CHAPTER XII. 



CHARTLEY QUEEX ADELAIDE AT SUDBURY THE REV. 



GERMAN BUCKSTON. 



There is no more sporting place in the Meynell country 

 than the above, and few which are wilder or more 

 picturesque. As you stand in the centre of the park, with 

 its scattered clumps of fir trees, and nothing but the 

 white cattle, the deer, and the rabbits to keep you com- 

 pany, you might as well be in the solitude of the Rocky 

 Mountains. The latter term is used advisedly, for surely 

 it is very like what is called "a park" in those parts, 

 especially in autumn, or on a frosty day in winter, when 

 the sky is blue overhead and the rough, tussocky grass 

 is yellow under foot, while the rabbits have honeycombed 

 the surface like any badgers. For these latter flourish 

 greatly in the foot-hills of that far-off western land. 



For aught the writer knows to the contrary, there are 

 very few parks anywhere in England like those two in 

 Staffordshire — Bagot's and Chartley. For where else do 

 you find the park without the house? No doubt there 

 were plenty of others at one time, though in many cases 

 only the name remains without the pales. But Chartley 

 is exactly as it was when the Conqueror came — or many 

 a century before his time, except so far as it is enclosed by 

 its fence, which is said to have been put up in the reign 

 of Henry III., when the white cattle were driven in from 

 the forest. 



Its castle,* which is now in ruins, was built in 1220, 



* Redfern's " Antiquities of Uttoxcter." 



