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CHARTLEY PARK.

ONE of the most bizarre superstitions of any time or clime is connected with Chartley, near Lichfield, a seat of the Ferrers family. When the immense possessions of the Ferrers were forfeited by the attainder of the Earl after his defeat at Burton Bridge, where he led the rebellious barons against Henry the Third, the Chartley estate, being settled in dower, was alone reserved to the family.

In the Park of Chartley, still described as a wild and romantic spot, untouched by the hand of the agriculturist, and left in its primitive state, is preserved a singular species of wild cattle, declared to be indigenous, and of a race nearly extinct. In Bewick's Quadrupeds, the principal external appearances which distinguish this breed of cattle from all others are thus described: "their colour is invariably white, muzzles black; the whole of the inside of the ear, and about one third of the outside, from the tip downwards, red; horns white with black tips, very fine, and bent upwards."

In the year the battle of Burton Bridge was fought and lost, a black calf was born in this unique race; and the downfall of the grand house of Ferrers happening about the same time, gave rise to the tradition, still current, that the birth of a dark-hued, or parti-coloured calf from the wild breed in Chartley Park, is a sure omen of death within the same year to a member of the Ferrers family. It is a noticeable coincidence, says

the Staffordshire Chronicle of July 1835, that a calf of this description has been born whenever a death has happened in the family of late years. The decease of the seventh Earl Ferrers, and of his countess, and of his son, Viscount Tamworth, and of his daughter, Mrs. William Jolliffe, as well as the deaths of the son and heir of the eighth Earl, and of his daughter, Lady Francis Shirley, were each preceded by the ominous birth of the fatal-hued calf. In the spring of 1835 an animal perfectly black was calved by one of this mysterious tribe, in the Park of Chartley, and the portentous event was speedily followed by the death of the Countess, the second wife of the eighth Earl Ferrers.

This outré family tradition has served for the groundwork of a romantic, once popular novel, entitled Chartley, or the Fatalist.

CLEGG HALL.

IN Roby and Wilkinson's suggestive work on Lancashire Legends, to which we are indebted for some of the traditions in this volume, is an account of the Clegg Hall tragedy. The story, as given in the work just referred to, is as follows::

Clegg Hall, about two miles N.E. from Rochdale, stands on the only estate within the parish of Whalley which still continues in the local family name. On this

site was the old house built by Bernulf de Clegg and Quenilda his wife, as early as the reign of Stephen. Not a vestige of it remains. The present comparatively modern erection was built by Theophilus Ashton, of Rochdale, a lawyer, and one of the Ashtons of Little Clegg, about the year 1620. After many changes of occupants, it is now in part used as a country ale-house; other portions are inhabited by the labouring classes, who find employment in that populous manufacturing district. It is the property of the Fentons, by purchase from the late John Entwisle, Esq., of Foxholes.

“To Clegg Hall, or rather what was once the site of that ancient house, tradition points through the dim vista of past ages as the scene of an unnatural and cruel tragedy. It was in the square, low, dark mansion, built in the reign of Stephen, that this crime is said to have been perpetrated,-one of those halftimbered houses, called 'post-and-petrel,' having huge main timbers, crooks, &c., the interstices being wattled and filled with a compost of clay and chopped straw. Of this rude and primitive architecture were the houses of the English gentry in former ages. Here, then, was that horrible deed perpetrated which gave rise to the stories yet extant relating to the Clegg Hall boggarts.' The prevailing tradition is not exact as to the date of its occurrence; but it is said that some time about the thirteenth or fourteenth century, a tragedy resembling that of the Babes in the Wood' was perpetrated here. A wicked uncle destroyed the lawful heirs of Clegg Hall and estates-two orphan children that

were left to his care-by throwing them over a balcony into the moat, in order that he might seize on their inheritance. Ever afterwards-so the story goes-the house was the reputed haunt of a troubled and angry spirit, until means were taken for its removal, or rather expulsion.

"Of course, this 'boggart,' says Mr. Wilkinson, "could not be the manes of the murdered children, or it would have been seen as a plurality of spirits; but was, in all likelihood, the wretched ghost of the ruffianly relative, whose double crime would not let him. rest in the peace of the grave. Even after the original house was almost wholly pulled down, and that of A.D. 1620 erected on its site, the 'boggart' still haunted the ancient spot, and its occasional visitations were the source of the great alarm and annoyance to which the inmates were subjected. From these slight materials, Mr. Roby has woven one of those fictions, full of romantic incident, which have rendered his Traditions of Lancashire so famous. We have taken such facts only," concludes Mr. Wilkinson, "as seem really tra

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"It is only just to state," remarks Mr. Wilkinson, "that the story of Clegg Hall Boggart' was communicated to Mr. Roby by Mr. William Nuttall, of Rochdale, author of Le Voyageur, and the composer of a ballad on the tradition. In this ballad, entitled 'Sir Roland and the Clegg Hall Boggart,' Mr. Nuttall makes Sir Roland murder the children in bed with a dagger. Remorse eventually drove him mad, and he died raving during a violent storm. The Hall was ever after haunted by the children's ghosts, and also by demons, till St. Antonea (St Anthony) with a relic from the Virgin's shrine, exorcised and laid the evil spirits."

ditionary, recommending the lovers of the marvellous to the work just cited for a very entertaining tale on this subject."

To this meagre if suggestive account of a popular story, may be added, that in a curious manuscript volume, now, or recently, the property of Dr. Charles Clay, of Manchester, Mr. Nuttall notes that “many ridiculous tales were told of the two boggarts of Clegg Hall, by the country people." That there were two, all local accounts would seem to testify. "At one time," proceeds Mr. Nuttall, "they (the country people) unceasingly importuned a pious monk in the neighbourhood to exorcise or lay the ghosts,' to which request he consented. Having provided himself with a variety of charms and spells, he boldly entered on his undertaking, and in a few hours brought the ghosts to a parley. They demanded, as a condition of future quiet (the sacrifice of) a body and a soul. The spectators (who could not see the ghosts), on being informed of their desire, were petrified, none being willing to become the victim. The cunning monk told the tremblers: 'Bring me the body of a cock, and the sole of a shoe.' This being done, the spirits were forbidden to revisit the pale glimpses of the moon' till the whole of the sacrifice was consumed. Thus ended the first laying of the Clegg Hall boggarts."

Unfortunately, the plan of laying the ghosts adopted by the wily priest has not proved permanently successful; whether the "sacrifice" has been wholly consumed, or the fact that the spirit of the demand not being