In the days of Queen Bess the pretty village of Stoke Newington was a pleasant object for a country walk of about three miles from the City boundary of London. The village lay amid dense woods whence came its name—Stoe being the Saxon word for wood, and Stoke Newington meaning the new town in the wood. Its derivation shows what an old place it is, and we may picture to ourselves how, ages ago, the dwellers within the City walls would joyfully leave London, on holidays, by the Moor Gate, and wend their way northward to the shady trees and grassy banks of the roadway known as the 'Green Lanes'—names which, like Stoke Newington, still survive. Along that road the royal chariot of Queen Elizabeth might occasionally be met coming from the Tower; for at Stoke Newington, in a mansion beside the church, dwelt some of the Dudley family, whom she delighted to honour.

A story is told how, when her Majesty was the persecuted Princess Elizabeth, living under the stern rule of her sister, Queen Mary, she paid a stolen visit to London to see how Court matters were progressing. The Dudleys befriended her, and went so far as to hide her in a brick tower in the Park, communicating with their home by a secret passage. To judge by what history tells of Queen Mary, these devoted friends ran no slight risk, and Queen Elizabeth, in later years, did her best to repay their kindness. We read that, on one visit after her accession, she took a jewel of great value from her dress and presented it to the daughter of the house, Lady Anne Dudley. One avenue off the Park is still known as Queen Elizabeth's Walk, and tradition says she was fond of pacing up and down there with the master of the house.

The next time we hear much of Stoke Newington Park, it was in the hands of Mr. Jonathan Hoare, one of the founders of the great banking house of that name; and, later still, it was rented from the Ecclesiastical Commissioners by one of the Crawshay family, then known as 'the iron princes' of Wales. His lease set forth that he was to pay the sum of one hundred and nine pounds a year rent, with one good, fat turkey, the latter probably appearing at the annual dinner of his landlords. For this consideration he was allowed to call house and land after his own name, but was forbidden to cut down timber. Mr. Crawshay's tenancy closed romantically with the incident which won the place its present title.

He had two fair daughters, whom no doubt he wished to see married to rich and noble husbands. Great, therefore, was his anger when he found that one of them had given her affections to the curate of the parish, Mr. Clissold by name. Mr. Clissold was forthwith forbidden to set foot within Crawshay Farm again. To ensure this, the walls of the place were made higher, and the hard-hearted parent expressed his firm resolve of shooting any messenger who tried to carry letters secretly. How long this state of affairs lasted does not appear, but it was ended by the death of Mr. Crawshay. Then the curate and his hardly-won bride became tenants of the mansion, and changed its name to Clissold Park or Place.

As Clissold Park it was bought from the Ecclesiastical Commissioners for ninety-six thousand pounds, and formally opened by Lord Rosebery in 1889.

Perhaps the greatest charm of this particular park lies in its evident old age—trees, turf, and the disused mansion all bear witness that it is no newly planted recreation ground, but a noble relic of the days of old, with a stately dignity all its own.

A number of deer enclosed in the middle of the park prove that these pretty creatures are not always shy. A family of kittens could not be less afraid of the admiring crowd which watches them. At the same time the deer were presented to the park, a number of guinea-pigs were also introduced, and they still flourish in their cosy enclosure, giving endless delight to the children of the neighbourhood.

The beauty of the park is greatly increased by the waters of the New River, which wind in and out of the grounds as well as round them, although the charm of the stream is somewhat spoilt by a close iron fencing, walling in the water on both sides. This, however, appears to be a necessity, to protect the numerous fish from the keenness of would-be fishermen.

Bridges cross the river in many places, and two lakes of some size, studded with wooded islets, afford homes for swans, ducks, and other water-fowl. Near the mansion there is a bandstand, and all about the grounds there are seats and rustic shelters for the elders, whilst the young folk and children are making merry with games.

In the spring and autumn a very favourite place for basking in the sun is the terrace before the old house, in part of which refreshments are provided. Some of the views in the park are exceedingly pretty, especially in the direction of the deer park, looking towards the mansion, where the old parish church stands out against the trees, whilst the fine open tower of a new church, with a graceful spire, rises above the green foliage.

Stoke Newington has been the home of various celebrated men: John Howard, the philanthropist, who did so much to alleviate the horrors of prison-life; Defoe, whom we all love for the sake of Robinson Crusoe; Dr. Watts, author of many of our best-known hymns, among the number.

It is pleasant to know that the leafy walk of the Green Lanes is still an attractive one for Londoners, although the mossy banks of former days have long been lined with handsome houses, and though a wide expanse of densely populated town lies between Clissold Park and the street still known as London Wall, whence the Moor Gate, with all its companion portals, have long vanished.