echter, the actor. Here he did his writing "up among
the branches of the trees, where the birds and butterflies fly in and
out."

The occupiers of Gad's Hill Place since the novelist's death have been
Charles Dickens, the younger, Major Budden, and latterly the Honourable F.
W. Latham, who graciously opens certain of the apartments to visitors.

In the immediate neighbourhood of Rochester is Cobham, with its famous
Pickwickian inn, "The Leather Bottle," where Mr. Tupman sought retirement
from the world after the elopement of Miss Wardle with Alfred Jingle.

Dickens himself was very fond of frequenting the inn in company with his
friends.

The visitor will have no need to be told that the ancient hostelry
opposite the village church is the "Leather Bottle" in question, so
beloved of Mr. Pickwick, since the likeness of that gentleman, painted
vividly and in the familiar picturesque attitude, on the sign-board,
loudly proclaims the fact. It should be one of the fixed _formulae_ of the
true Dickensian faith that all admirers of his immortal hero should turn
in at the "Leather Bottle" at Cobham, and do homage to Pickwick in the
well-known parlour, with its magnificent collection of Dickens relics, too
numerous to enumerate here, but of great and varied interest, the present
proprietor being himself an ardent Dickens enthusiast.

Here is a shrine, at once worthy, and possessed of many votive offerings
from all quarters.

Dickens' personality, as evinced by many of his former belongings, which
have found a place here, pervades the bar parlour. So, too, has the very
spirit and sentiment of regard for the novelist made the "Leather
Bottle's" genial host a marked man. He will tell you many anecdotes of
Dickens and his visits here in this very parlour, when he was living at
Higham.

The "mild and bitter," or the "arf and arf," is to-day no less pungent and
aromatic than when Dickens and his friends regaled themselves amid the
same surroundings.

It should be a part of the personal experience of every Dickens enthusiast
to journey to the "unspoilt" village of Cobham and spend a half-day
beneath the welcoming roof of the celebrated "Leather Bottle."

The great love of Dickens for Rochester, the sensitive clinging to the
scenes of that happy, but all too short childhood at Chatham, forms an
instance of the magnetic power of early associations.

"I have often heard him say," said Forster, "that in leaving the
neighbourhood