possesses,
and which, so far as we can perceive (all honour to him), is kept in the
same excellent condition that characterized it during the novelist's
lifetime. What is particularly striking about it is at once its
compactness, completeness, and unpretentiousness.

Descending to the library, whence we started nearly three hours
previously, we refresh ourselves with a glass of water from the
celebrated deep well--a draught deliciously cool and clear--which the
hospitable Major presses us to "dilute" (as Professor Huxley has
somewhere said) in any way we please, but which we prefer to drink, as
Dickens himself drank it--pure. Before we rise to leave the spot we have
so long wished to see, and which we have now gone over to our hearts'
content, we sadly recall to memory for a moment the "last scene of all
that ends this strange, eventful history,"--that tragic incident which
occurred on Thursday, 9th June, 1870, when there was an "empty chair" at
Gad's Hill Place, and all intelligent English-speaking nations
experienced a personal sorrow.

And so with many grateful acknowledgments to our kind and courteous
host, who gives us some nice flowers and cuttings as a parting souvenir,
we take our leave, having derived from our bright sunny visit to Gad's
Hill Place that "wave of pleasure" which Mr. Herbert Spencer describes
as "raising the rate of respiration,--raised respiration being an index
of raised vital activities in general." In fine, the impression left on
our minds is such as to induce us to feel that we understand and
appreciate more of Dickens's old home than any illustration or written
description of it, however excellent, had hitherto adequately conveyed
to us. We have seen it for ourselves.

* * * * *

The reminiscences which follow are from Mrs. Lynn Linton and three of
Charles Dickens's nearest neighbours.

GAD'S HILL SIXTY YEARS AGO.

The early love which Charles Dickens felt for Gad's Hill House, and his
boyish ambition to be one day its owner, had been already anticipated by
my father. As a boy and young man, my father's heart was set on this
place; and when my grandfather's death put him in sufficient funds he
bought it. Being a beneficed clergyman, both of whose livings were in
the extreme north of England, he could not live in the house; but he
kept it empty for many years, always hoping to get leave of absence from
the Bishop for a term long enough to justify the r