Chapter VII: An Afternoon at Gad's Hill Place

"It was just large enough, and no more; was as
pretty within as it was without, and was perfectly
arranged and comfortable."--_Little Dorrit._

"This has been a happy home. . . . I love
it. . . ."--_The Cricket on the Hearth._

A NEVER-TO-BE-FORGOTTEN day was Saturday, the twenty-fifth of August, 1888, a day remarkable, as were many of the closing days of the summer of that year, for its bright, sunny, and cheerful nature. The sky was a deep blue--usually described as an Italian sky--broken only by a few fleecy, cumulus clouds, which served to bring out more clearly the rich colour of the background. There was a fine bracing air coming from the north-west, for which the county of Kent is famous. Truly an enjoyable day for a holiday! and one that Dickens himself would have loved to describe. So after a desultory stroll about the streets of Rochester, one of many delightful strolls, we make our first outward tramp, and that of course to Gad's Hill. By the way, much attention has been devoted to the consideration of the derivation of the name, "Gad's Hill." It is no doubt a corruption of "God's Hill," of which there are two so-called places in the county, and there is also a veritable "God's Hill" a little further south, in the Isle of Wight.

Crossing Rochester Bridge, we enter the busy town of Strood, pass through its long thoroughfare, go up the Dover Road,--which was the ancient Roman military road afterwards called Watling Street, until a little above Strood it turned slightly to the left, passing through what is now Cobham Park,--and leave the windmill on Broomhill to the right. The ground rises gently, the chalk formation being exposed here and there in disused pits. A portion of the road higher up is cut through the Thanet sands, which rest on the chalk. Again and again we stop, and turn to admire the winding valley of the Medway. As we get more into the country and leave the town behind, we find the roadsides still decked with summer flowers, notably the fine dark blue Canterbury bell--the nettle-leaved Campanula (_Campanula Trachelium_)--and the exquisite light-blue chicory (_Cichorium Intybus_); but the flowers of the latter are so evanescent that, when gathered, they fade in an hour or two. This beautiful starlike-blossomed plant is abundant in many parts of Kent. We pass on the right the pretty high-standing grounds of Mr. Hulkes at the "Little Hermitage," and notice the obelisk further to the right on still higher land, erected about fifty years ago to the memory of Charles Larkin (a name very suggestive of "the eldest Miss Larkins") of Rochester,--"a parish orator and borough Hampden"--by his grateful fellow-citizens.

A walk of less than three miles brings us to the "Sir John Falstaff"--"a delightfully old-fashioned roadside inn of the coaching days, which stands on the north side of the road a little below 'Gad's Hill Place,' and which no man possessed of a penny was ever known to pass in warm weather."

Mr. Kitton relates in _Dickensiana_ the following amusing story of a former waiter at the "Falstaff":--

"A few days after Dickens's death, an Englishman, deeply grieved at the event, made a sort of pilgrimage to Gad's Hill--to the home of the great novelist. He went into the famous 'Sir John Falstaff Inn' near at hand, and in the effusiveness of his honest emotions, he could not avoid taking the country waiter into his confidence.

"'A great loss this of Mr. Dickens,' said the pilgrim.

"'A very great loss to us, sir,' replied the waiter, shaking his head; 'he had all his ale sent in from this house!'"

One of the two lime-trees only remains, but the well and bucket--as recorded by the _Uncommercial Traveller_ in the chapter on "Tramps"--are there still, surrounded by a protective fence.

We have but little time to notice the "Falstaff," for our admiring gaze is presently fixed on Gad's Hill Place itself, the house in which Dickens resided happily--albeit trouble came to him as to most men--from the year 1856 till his death in 1870. Everybody knows the story of how, as a little boy, he cherished the idea of one day living in this house, and how that idea was gratified in after-life. It is from the _Uncommercial Traveller_, in the chapter on "Travelling Abroad," and the repetition is never stale. He says:--

"So smooth was the old high road, and so fresh
were the horses, and so fast went I, that it was
midway between Gravesend and Rochester, and the
widening river was bearing the ships, white-sailed
or black-smoked, out to sea, when I noticed by the
wayside a very queer small boy.

"'Holloa!' said I to the very queer small boy,
'where do you live?'

"'At Chatham,' says he.

"'What do you do there?' says I.

"'I go to school,' says he.

"I took him up in a moment, and we went on.
Presently, the very queer small boy says, 'This is
Gad's Hill we are coming to, where Falstaff went
out to rob those travellers, and ran away.'

"'You know something about Falstaff, eh?' said I.

"'All about him,' said the very queer small boy.
'I am old (I am nine), and I read all sorts of
books. But _do_ let us stop at the top of the
hill, and look at the house there, if you please!'

"'You admire that house?' said I.

"'Bless you, sir,' said the very queer small boy,
'when I was not more than half as old as nine, it
used to be a treat for me to be brought to look at
it. And now, I am nine, I come by myself to look
at it. And ever since I can recollect, my father,
seeing me so fond of it, has often said to me, 'If
you were to be very persevering, and were to work
hard, you might some day come to live in it.'
Though that's impossible!' said the very queer
small boy, drawing a low breath, and now staring
at the house out of window with all his might.

"I was rather amazed to be told this by the very
queer small boy; for that house happens to be _my_
house, and I have reason to believe that what he
said was true."

Mrs. Lynn Linton, the celebrated novelist, who resided at Gad's Hill as a child, has very kindly given us her personal recollections of it sixty years ago, and of the interesting circumstances under which Charles Dickens subsequently purchased the property;--which will be found at the end of this chapter.

Before seeking permission to enter the grounds of Gad's Hill Place, which are surrounded by a high wall, and screened externally by a row of well-topped lime-trees, we retrace our steps for a few minutes, in order to refresh ourselves with a homely luncheon, and what Mr. Richard Swiveller would call a "modest quencher," at the Sir John Falstaff. It may be certain that not much time is consumed in this operation. We then take a good look at the remarkable house opposite, the object of our pilgrimage, which has been made well known by countless photographs and engravings. It is a comfortable, but a not very attractive-looking red-brick house of two stories, with porch at entrance, partly covered with ivy. All the front windows, with the exception of the central ones, are bayed, and there are dormer windows in the roof, which is surmounted by a bell-turret and vane. What a strange fascination it has for admirers of Dickens when seen for the first time! According to Forster, in his _Life_ of the novelist, the house was built in 1780 by a well-known local character named James Stevens, who rose to a good position. He was the father-in-law of the late Professor Henslow, the Botanist, of Cambridge. Dickens paid for it the sum of L1,790, and the purchase was completed on Friday, 14th March, 1856. The present owner is Major Austin F. Budden,[11] of the 12th Kent Artillery Volunteers, who, we find, in the course of subsequent conversation, had also done good municipal service, having filled the office of Mayor of Rochester for two years,--from 1879 to 1881,--and that he was elected at the early age of twenty-eight.

We ring the bell at the gate which shuts the house out from view, and are promptly answered by a pleasant-speaking housemaid, who takes our cards on a salver, and ushers us into the library. We are requested to enter our names in the visitors' book, and this is done with alacrity. We are under the impression that we shall only be allowed to see the hall and study, a privilege allowed to any visitor on presentation of a card; but fortunately for us the courteous owner appears, and says that, as he has half an hour to spare, he will show us entirely over the house. He is better than his word, and we, delighted with the prospect, commence our inspection of the late home of the great novelist with feelings of singular pleasure, which are altogether a new sensation. Do any readers remember, when perusing the Waverley novels in their youth, a certain longing (as the height of their ambition, possibly gratified in after-life) to see Abbotsford, the home of the "Wizard of the North"? _That_ is a feeling akin to the one which possesses us on the present occasion, a feeling of veneration almost amounting to awe as we recall, and seem to realize, not only the presence of Charles Dickens himself, but of the many eminent literary, artistic, and histrionic characters--his contemporaries--who assembled here, and shared the hospitality of the distinguished owner. "Dickens penetrates here--where does not his genial sunshine penetrate?"

Turning over the leaves of the visitors' book, Major Budden calls our attention to the signatures of Americans, who constitute by far the majority of visitors. Among the more recent appears the name of that accomplished actress, Miss Mary Anderson--herself a great admirer of Charles Dickens--who came accompanied by a party of friends. We also found her name, with the same party, in the visitors' book at Richard Watts's Charity in Rochester. Major Budden spoke also of the great enthusiasm always exhibited by our American friends in regard to Dickens, some of whom had told him more than once that it was the custom to instruct their children in a knowledge of his works: they read them, in fact, in the schools.

The library, or study, is a very cosy little room, made famous by Mr. Luke Fildes's picture of "The Empty Chair." It is situated on the west side of the porch, looking to the front, with the shrubbery in the distance; and among the most conspicuous objects contained in it are the curious counterfeit book-backs devised by Dickens and his friends, and arranged as shelves to fit the door of the room. They number nearly eighty, and a selection is given below of a few of the quaintest titles, viz.:--

The Quarrelly Review. 4 vols.

King Henry the Eighth's Evidences of Christianity. 5 vols.

Noah's Arkitecture. 2 vols.

"The empty chair" Gad's Hill Ninth of June 1870.]

Chickweed.

Groundsel (by the Author of Chickweed).

Cockatoo on Perch.

History of a Short Chancery Suit. 21 vols.

Cats' Lives. 9 vols.

Hansard's Guide to Refreshing Sleep (many volumes).

The Wisdom of our Ancestors--I. Ignorance. II. Superstition. III. The Block. IV. The Stake. V. The Rack. VI. Dirt. VII. Disease.

Several of the titles were used for a similar purpose at Tavistock House, London--Dickens's former residence.

We cannot help, as we sit down quietly for a few minutes, wondering how much of _Little Dorrit_, _Hunted Down_, _A Tale of Two Cities_, _Great Expectations_, _The Uncommercial Traveller_, _Our Mutual Friend_, and _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_ (which were all issued between 1856 and 1870) was written in this famous room, to say nothing of those heaps of exquisite letters which so helped, cheered, interested, or amused many a correspondent, and have delighted the public since.

In the hall, which has the famous parquet floor laid down by Dickens, is still hanging the framed illumination, artistically executed by Owen Jones, and placed there immediately after Dickens became the "Kentish freeholder on his native heath" as he called it. It is as follows:--

This House,
GAD'S HILL PLACE,
stands on the summit of Shakespeare's Gad's Hill,
ever memorable for its association with
Sir John Falstaff, in his noble fancy.

"But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning by four o'clock early at Gad's Hill. There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses; I have vizards for you all; you have horses for yourselves."[12]

From the hall we enter the dining-room, a cheerful apartment looking on to the beautiful lawn at the back, which has at the end the arched conservatory of lilac-tinted glass at top, in which the novelist took so much interest, and where he hung some Chinese lanterns, sent down from London the day before his death. We are informed that in this building he signed the last cheque which he drew, to pay his subscription to the Higham Cricket Club. The door of the dining-room is faced with looking-glass, so that it may reflect the contents of the conservatory. Among these are two or three New Zealand tree-ferns which Dickens himself purchased. In the dining-room Major Budden pointed out the exact spot where the fatal seizure from effusion on the brain took place, on the afternoon of Wednesday, 8th June, 1870, and where Dickens lay: first on the floor to the right of the door on entering, and afterwards to the left, when the couch was brought down (by order of Mr. Steele, the surgeon of Strood, as we subsequently learned), upon which he breathed his last.

The drawing-room faces the front, and, like the dining-room, has been lengthened, and opens into the conservatory. In fact, Dickens was always improving Gad's Hill Place. There is a memorable reference to the conservatory by Forster in the third vol. of the _Life_. He says:--

"This last addition had long been an object of desire with him, though he would hardly, even now, have given himself the indulgence but for the golden shower from America. He saw it first in a completed state on the Sunday before his death, when his youngest daughter was on a visit to him.

"'Well, Katey,' he said to her, 'now you see POSITIVELY the last improvement at Gad's Hill,' and every one laughed at the joke against himself. The success of the new conservatory was unquestionable. It was the remark of all around him, that he was certainly, from this last of his improvements, drawing more enjoyment than from any of its predecessors, when the scene for ever closed!"

This room is a long one, and, in common with all the others, gives us, under the auspices of the brilliantly fine day, some idea of the late owner's love of light, air, and cheerfulness. That the situation is also a healthy and bracing one is confirmed by the fact, that in a letter written on board the _Russia_, bound for Liverpool, on the 26th April, 1868, after his second American tour, he speaks of having made a "Gad's Hill breakfast."

Our most considerate cicerone next takes us into several of the bedrooms, these being of large size, and having a little dressing-room marked off with a partition, head-high, so that no cubic space is lost to the main chamber. As illustrative of Charles Dickens's care for the comfort of his friends, it is said that in the visitors' bedrooms there was always hot water and a little tea-table set out, so that each one could at any time make for himself a cup of the beverage "that cheers but not inebriates." The views from these rooms are very charming. Mr. W. T. Wildish afterwards told us, that during the novelist's life-time, Mr. Trood, the landlord of the Sir John Falstaff, once took him over Gad's Hill Place, and he was surprised to find Dickens's own bath-room covered with cuttings from _Punch_ and other comic papers. I have since learned that this was a screen of engravings which had originally been given him.

The gardens, both flower and vegetable, are then pointed out--the approach thereto from the back lawn being by means of a flight of steps--as also the rosary, which occupies a portion of the front lawn to the westward. The roses are of course past their best, but the trees look very healthy.

In the flower garden we are especially reminded of Dickens's love for flowers, the China-asters, single dahlias, and zinnias being of exceptional brightness. As to the violets, which are here in abundance, both the Neapolitan and Russian varieties, the Major shows us a method of cultivating them, first in frames, and then in single rows, so that he can get them in bloom for nearly nine months in the year!

Adjoining the lawn and vegetable garden is "the much-coveted meadow," which the master of Gad's Hill obtained by exchange of some land with the trustees of Sir Joseph Williamson's Mathematical School at Rochester, and in which he planted "a number of limes and chestnuts, and other quick-growing trees." Four grass walks meet in the centre of the vegetable garden, where there is a fine old mulberry tree.

It is stated in Forster's _Life_ of the novelist (Vol. iii. p. 188) that Dickens obtained the meadow by exchange of some land "with the Trustees of Watts's Charity." But this is not right. The distinguished historian of the Commonwealth, and the faithful friend of the novelist all through his life, is so habitually accurate, that it is an exceptional circumstance for any one to be able to correct him. However, I am indebted to Mr. A. A. Arnold, of Rochester, for the following authentic account of the transaction.

Dickens was always anxious to obtain this meadow (which consists of about fourteen acres), and, believing that the Trustees of Sir Joseph Williamson's Mathematical School at Rochester were not empowered to sell their land, he purchased a field at the back of his own shrubbery from Mr. Brooker, of Higham, with a view--as appears from the following characteristically courteous and business-like letter--to effect an exchange.

"GAD'S HILL PLACE,
HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT.
_Monday, Thirtieth June, 1862._

"GENTLEMEN,

"Reverting to a proposal already made in general
terms by my solicitor, Mr. Ouvry, of Lincoln's Inn
Fields, to Messrs. Essel and Co., I beg to submit
my application to you in detail.

"It is that you will have the kindness to consider
the feasibility of exchanging the field at the
back of my property here (marked 404 in the
accompanying plan), for the plot of land marked
384 in the said plan.

"I believe it will appear to you, on inquiry, that
the land I offer in exchange for the meadow is
very advantageously situated, and is of greater
extent than the meadow, and would be of greater
value to the Institution, whose interests you
represent. On the other hand, the acquisition of
the meadow as a freehold would render my little
property more compact and complete.

"I have the honor to be, Gentlemen,
Your faithful and obedient Servant,
CHARLES DICKENS.

"To the Governors of
Sir Joseph Williamson's Free School,
Rochester."

The offer fell through at the time; but it was renewed in 1868 in a different form, and eventually the field was sold (by permission of the Charity Commissioners) to Charles Dickens at an "accommodation" price--L2,500--which really exceeded its actual market value.

But to resume our inspection. The whole of the back of the house, looking southward, is covered by a Virginia creeper (_Ampelopsis quinquefolia_) of profuse growth, which must be an object of singular beauty in the autumn when the crimson tints appear. As it now stands it is beautifully green, and there is scarcely more than a leaf or two here and there marking autumnal decay. The two famous hawthorn trees were blown down in a gale some years ago.

In a quiet corner under a rose-tree (_Gloire de Dijon_), flanked by a _Yucca_ in bloom, the bed underneath consisting of deep blue lobelia, is a touching little memorial to a favourite canary. This consists of a narrow little board, made like a head-stone, and set aslant, on which is painted in neat letters the following epitaph:--

This is
the grave of
DICK,
the best of birds,
born
AT BROADSTAIRS,
_Midsummer_, 1851,
died
AT GAD'S HILL PLACE,
_4th October, 1866_.

No one can doubt who was the author of these simple lines. "Dick," it should be said, "was very dear both to Dickens and his eldest daughter," and he has been immortalized in Forster's _Life_. There is a very humorous account given of the attacks which the cats in the neighbourhood made upon him, and which were frustrated by an organized defence. The following is the passage:--

"Soon after the arrival of Dickens and his family at Gad's Hill Place, a household war broke out, in which the commander-in-chief was his man French, the bulk of the forces engaged being his children, and the invaders two cats." Writing to Forster, Dickens says:--"'The only thing new in this garden is that war is raging against two particularly tigerish and fearful cats (from the mill, I suppose), which are always glaring in dark corners after our wonderful little Dick. Keeping the house open at all points, it is impossible to shut them out, and they hide themselves in the most terrific manner: hanging themselves up behind draperies, like bats, and tumbling out in the dead of night with frightful caterwaulings. Hereupon French borrows Beaucourt's gun, loads the same to the muzzle, discharges it twice in vain, and throws himself over with the recoil, exactly like a clown. . . . About four pounds of powder and half a ton of shot have been fired off at the cat (and the public in general) during the week. The funniest thing is, that immediately after I have heard the noble sportsman blazing away at her in the garden in front, I look out of my room door into the drawing-room, and am pretty sure to see her coming in after the birds, in the calmest manner possible, by the back window.'"

Passing on our way the large and well-lighted servants' hall, over which is the bachelors' room,--whence in days gone by that rare literary serial, _The Gad's Hill Gazette_,[13] issued from a little printing press, presented by a friend to the sixth son of the novelist, who encouraged his boy's literary tastes,--we next see the stables, as usual, like everything else, in excellent order. A small statue of Fame blowing her golden trumpet surmounts the bachelors' room, and looks down upon us encouragingly.

Our attention is then turned to the well, which is stated to be two hundred and seventeen feet deep, in the shed, or pumping-room, over which is the Major's mare, "Tell-tale," cheerfully doing her daily twenty minutes' task of drawing water, which is pumped up to the cistern on the roof for the supply of the house. There is said to be never less than twenty feet of water in the well.

It may be interesting to mention that Gad's Hill Place ("the title of my estate, sir, my place down in Kent"), which is in the parish of Higham, and about twenty-six miles from London, stands on an elevation two hundred and fifty feet above mean sea-level. The house itself is built on a bed of the Thanet sands. The well is bored right through these sands, which Mr. W. H. Whitaker, F.R.S., of H. M. Geological Survey (who has kindly given me some valuable information on the subject), states "may be about forty feet thick, and the water is drawn up from the bed of chalk beneath. This bed is of great thickness, probably six hundred or seven hundred feet, and the well simply reaches the level at which the chalk is charged with water, _i. e._ something a little higher than the level of the neighbouring river." The chalk is exposed on the lower bases of Gad's Hill, such as the Railway Station at Higham, the village of Chalk, the town of Strood, etc.

There are humorous extracts from letters by Dickens in Forster's _Life_ respecting the well, which may appropriately be introduced. He says:--

"We are still (6th of July) boring for water here, at the rate of two pounds per day for wages. The men seem to like it very much, and to be perfectly comfortable." . . . And again, "Here are six men perpetually going up and down the well (I know that somebody will be killed), in the course of fitting a pump; which is quite a railway terminus--it is so iron, and so big. The process is much more like putting Oxford Street endwise, and laying gas along it, than anything else. By the time it is finished, the cost of this water will be something absolutely frightful. But of course it proportionately increases the value of the property, and that's my only comfort. . . . Five men have been looking attentively at the pump for a week, and (I should hope) may begin to fit it in the course of October." The depression caused by the prospect of the "absolutely frightful" cost of the water seems to have continued to the end of the letter, for it thus concludes:--"The horse has gone lame from a sprain, the big dog has run a tenpenny nail into one of his hind feet, the bolts have all flown out of the basket carriage, and the gardener says all the fruit trees want replacing with new ones."

Two of the Major's dogs are chained in the places formerly occupied by Dickens's dogs, "Linda" and "Turk." The chains are very long, and allow the animals plenty of room for exercise. The space between the two permitted a person to walk past without their being able to come near him; and, as an instance of Dickens's thoughtful kindliness even to the lower animals, two holes were made in the wall so that the dogs could get through in hot weather, and lie in the shade of the trees on the other side. On the back gate entering into the lane at the side of the house was painted, "Beware of the dogs!" This caution appears to have been very necessary, for we heard more than once the story of an intrusive tramp who trespassed, and going too near the dogs, got sadly mauled. Dickens, with characteristic goodness, sent him at once to Chatham Hospital, and otherwise healed his wounds.

We are next conducted round the grounds, and have an opportunity of examining the front of the house more in detail. The porch is flanked by two cosy seats, the pretty little spade-shaped shields, and lateral angular ornamental supports on the back of which, we are informed, were constructed of pieces of wood from Shakespeare's furniture given to Dickens by a friend. A large variegated holly grows on either side of the porch, and a semi-circular gravel walk leads to the door. There is a closely-cut lawn in front, and opposite the hollies are two fine specimens of _Aucuba Japonica_--the so-called variegated laurel.

It will be remembered that the master of Gad's Hill had a tunnel excavated under the Dover Road (which runs through the property), so as to approach the "shrubbery" previously referred to, without having to cross the open public road. We did not learn who constructed the tunnel, but it was designed either by his brother, Mr. Alfred L. Dickens, who died at Manchester in 1860, or by his brother-in-law, Mr. Henry Austin. The entrance to the tunnel is by a flight of about twenty steps, flanked by two beautifully-grown specimens of _Cedrus deodara_, the "deodar," or god-tree of the Himalayas. The tunnel itself is cut through the sands, and, being only a little longer than the width of the road, it is not at all dark, but very pleasant and cool on a hot day. A corresponding flight of steps leads us into the shrubbery, which is shut off from the main road by iron railings only. Both ends of the tunnel are covered with ivy, which has the effect of partially concealing the openings. Readers of Forster's _Life_ will recollect that the Swiss chalet presented to Dickens by his friend Fechter the actor, and in which he spent his last afternoon, formerly stood in the shrubbery. The chalet now stands in the terrace-garden of Cobham Hall.

Before we reach the exact place we have an opportunity of examining the two stately cedar trees (_Cedrus Libani_) which are the arboreal gems of the place. Major Budden informs us that they are about one hundred and twenty-eight years old, and were planted in their present position when they had attained about twenty years' growth. Some idea of their luxuriance may be formed when it is mentioned that the girth of each tree exceeds sixteen feet, and the longest branch of one of them measures eighty-four feet in length. In consequence of the habit of these trees "fastigiating" at the base, a very numerous series of lateral ramifying branches is the result. These branches spread out in terraces, and the rich green foliage, covered with exudations of resin, seems as though powdered silver had been lightly dusted over it. Each tree extends over a circular area of about eighty feet of ground in diameter. Under one of the cedars is the grave of "the big and beautiful Linda," Dickens's favourite St. Bernard dog. One of the trees has been injured, a large branch over-weighted with snow having broken off some years ago.

Two or three noble ash trees also grace this spot, running straight up in a column some thirty-five feet before shooting out a canopy of branches and leaves. There are also a few Scotch firs, the trunks well covered with ivy, and a pretty specimen of the variegated sycamore. The undergrowth of laurel, laurustinus, briar, privet, holly, etc., is very luxuriant here, and the vacant ground is closely covered with the wood anemone (_Anemone nemorosa_), which must form a continuous mass of pearly white flowers in spring-time.

The ground formerly occupied by the chalet is pointed out to us, its site being marked by a bed of rich scarlet nasturtiums. It will be recollected that Dickens describes the interior of the building in a letter to an American friend, which is thus recorded in Forster's _Life_:--

"Divers birds sing here all day, and the nightingales all night. The place is lovely and in perfect order. . . . I have put five mirrors in the chalet where I write, and they reflect and refract, in all kinds of ways, the leaves that are quivering at the windows, and the great fields of waving corn, and the sail-dotted river. My room is up among the branches of the trees; and the birds and the butterflies fly in and out, and the green branches shoot in at the open windows, and the lights and shadows of the clouds come and go with the rest of the company. The scent of the flowers, and indeed of everything that is growing for miles and miles, is most delicious."

But the glory of Gad's Hill Place is reserved for us until the close of our visit, when Major Budden very kindly takes us up to the roof, which is approached by a commodious flight of steps; and here, on this exceptionally fine day, we are privileged to behold a prospect of surpassing beauty. Right away to the westward is the great Metropolis, its presence being marked by the usual pall of greyish smoke. Opening from the town, and becoming wider and wider as the noble river approaches its estuary, is the Thames, now conspicuous by numerous vessels, showing masts and white and brown sails, and here and there by the smoky track of a steamer.

We remember how often the city and the river have been the scene of many and many an exploit in Dickens's novels. Northward are the dreary marshes, the famous "meshes" of _Great Expectations_, hereafter to be noticed. Then far to the eastward runs the valley of the Medway, the picturesque city of Rochester thereon being crowned by those conspicuous landmarks, its magnificent Castle and ancient Cathedral. In the background is the busy town of Chatham, its heights being capped by an enormous square and lofty building erected by the sect called "Jezreelites," whatever that may be. We were informed that the so-called "immortal" leader had just died, and it has since been reported that the gloomy building is likely to be converted into a huge jam factory. Beyond, and nearly seven miles off, is the high land called "Blue Bell," about three hundred feet above mean sea-level, and all along to the south the undulating grounds and beautiful woodland scenery of Cobham Park complete the picture.

As Major Budden points out in detail these many natural beauties of the district, we can quite understand and sympathize with Dickens's love for this exquisite spot; and we heartily congratulate the present owner of Gad's Hill Place on the charming historical property which he 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 removal of his large family from Keswick to Rochester. In 1831 a five years' leave of absence was granted; and we all came up by coach to this Mecca of my father's love. We were three days and three nights on the road; and I remember quite distinctly the square courtyard and outside balcony of the old Belle Sauvage Inn, where we put up on our arrival in London. I remember, too, the powerful scent of the Portugal laurel and the bay-tree which grew on the right-hand side of Gad's Hill House as we entered--brought out by the warm damp of the late autumn afternoon. In our time all the outhouses had leaden figures on the top. There was a cupola with an alarm bell, which one night was rung lustily, to the terror of the whole neighbourhood, and the ashamed discovery among ourselves that rats were not burglars. In the shrubbery were two large leaden figures of Pomona and Vertumnus, standing on each side of the walk leading up to the arbour. We had then two arbours--one opposite the house at the end of the green walk, and another in a dilapidated state further in the shrubbery. They were built of big flint stones, many of which had holes in them, where small birds made their nests. I remember in one was a tomtit which was quite tame, and used to fly in and out while we were watching it. The two cedars, which I believe are still there, were a little choked and overshadowed by a large oak-tree, which my father cut down. Between seventy and eighty coaches, "vans," and mail-carts passed our house during the day, besides private carriages, specially those of travellers posting to or from Dover. Regiments, too, often passed on their way to Gravesend, where they embarked for India; and ships' companies, paid off, rowdy and half-tipsy, made the road really dangerous for the time being. We used to lock the two gates when we heard them coming, shouting and singing up the hill; and we had to stand many a mimic siege from the blue-jackets trying to force their way in. Sweet-water grapes grew and ripened in the open air over the wash-house; and the back of the house was covered with a singularly fine and luscious jargonelle pear. The garden was rich in apples. We had many kinds, from the sweet and pulpy nonsuch, to the small tight little pearmain and lemon pippin. We had nonpareils, golden pippins, brown and golden russets, Ribstone pippins, and what we called a port-wine apple--the flesh red, like that of the "blood-oranges." The small orchard to the right was as rich in cherry-trees, filberts, and cobnuts. In the garden we had a fig-tree, and the mulberry-tree, which is still there, was in full bearing in our time. The garden altogether was wonderfully prolific in flowers as well as fruits--roses as well as strawberries and apples; and the green-house was full of grapes. Nightingales sang in the trees near the house, and the shrubbery was full of song birds. We had a grand view from the leads, where we used sometimes to go, and whence I remember seeing a farmyard fire over at Higham--which fire they said had been caused by an incendiary. There was a Low Church clergyman in the neighbourhood who might have been Chadband or Stiggins. He was fond of some girls we knew, and called them his "lambs." He used to put his arm round their waists, and they sat on his knees quite naturally. I myself heard him preach at Shorne against the institution of pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. He said it was not only superstitious but irreligious; as pancakes meant "pan Kakon," all evil. This I, then a girl of thirteen or so, heard and remember. When my father died his property had to be sold, as he did not make an eldest son. Mr. W. H. Wills, the trusty friend of Charles Dickens, and editor of _Household Words_ and _All The Year Round_, was also a friend of mine. We met at a dinner, and he spoke to me about Gad's Hill, but as if he wanted to buy it for himself. He was afraid to mention Charles Dickens's name, lest we should ask too much. So he told me afterwards. I had been left executrix under my father's will, being then the only unmarried daughter; and I took the news to our solicitor and co-executor, Mr. Loaden. He wrote to Mr. Wills, and the sale was effected. We scored a little triumph over the "ornamental timber." Mr. Dickens objected to our price; the case was submitted to an arbitrator, and we got more than we originally asked. But there was never one moment of pique on either side, nor a drop of bad blood as the consequence. It was always a matter for a laugh and a joke between Mr. Wills and myself. When we first went to Gad's Hill there was a fish-pond at the back; but my father had it filled up, lest one of his adventurous little ones should tumble in. Officers used to come up from Chatham to the Falstaff, and have pigeon matches in our big field; and one of the sights which used to delight our young eyes, was the gallant bearing and gay uniforms of the Commandant at Chatham, when he and his staff rode by. We were great walkers in those days, and used to ramble over Cobham Park, and round by Shorne, and down to the dreary marshes beyond Higham. But this was not a favourite walk with us, and we girls never went there alone. The banks on the Rochester road--past Davies's Straits--were full of sweet violets, white and purple; and the fungi, lichens, flowers, and ferns about Shorne and Cobham yet linger in my memory as things of rarest beauty. We always thought that the coachman, "Old Chumley," as he was called, was old Weller. He was a fine, cheery, trustworthy man; and once when my father was in London, he had one of my sisters and myself--girls then about fifteen and thirteen--put under his charge to be delivered to him at the end of the journey. The dear old fellow took as much care of us as if he had been our father himself. I remember my brothers gave him a new whip, and he was very fond of us all.

E. L. L.

* * * * *

* * * We had at a subsequent visit to Gad's Hill Place, on the invitation of our hospitable friends, Major and Mrs. Budden, the pleasure of a long and interesting conversation with Mr. James Hulkes, J.P., of the Little Hermitage, Frindsbury, a Kentish man, who came to live here more than sixty years ago, and who was thus a very near neighbour of Charles Dickens during the whole of the time that he resided at Gad's Hill Place. We were shown into a delightful room at the back of the house, overlooking the shrubberies of the mansion--in the distance appearing the high ground on which stands the monument to Charles Larkin. The room is a happy combination of part workshop, with a fine lathe and assortment of tools fitted round it--part study, with a nice collection of books, engravings and pictures (some of hunting scenes) on the walls--and part naturalist's den, with cases of stuffed birds and animals, guns and fishing-rods--the fragrant odour of tobacco breathing friendly welcome to a visitor of smoking proclivities. The varied tastes of the owner were sufficiently apparent, and a long chat of over two hours seemed to us but a few minutes.

Mr. Hulkes said he just remembered the road from Strood to Gad's Hill being cut through the sands down to the chalk. It was for some time afterwards called "Davies's Straits," after the Rev. George Davies, the then Chairman of the Turnpike Road Board, and the term indicated the difficulty and expense of the operation. Before the new road was cut, the old highway constituting this part of the Dover Road was very hilly and dangerous.

Reverting to the subject of Charles Dickens, our relator remarked, "I fear I cannot be of much use to you by giving information about Mr. Dickens, as I only knew him as a kind friend, a very genial host, and a most charming companion; to the poor he was always kind--a deserving beggar never went from his house unrelieved." What indeed could be said more! These few simple words, spoken so earnestly after a period of nearly twenty years, sufficed to bring before us the lost neighbour whose memory was so warmly cherished by his surviving friend.

John Forster, in the _Life_, speaks of Mr. Hulkes as being "one of the two nearest country neighbours with whom the [Dickens] family had become very intimate," and mentions that both Mr. and Mrs. Hulkes were present at the wedding of the novelist's second daughter, Kate, with Mr. Charles Alston Collins. Mr. Hulkes spoke of the pleasant parties at Gad's Hill Place, at which he met Mr. Forster, Mr. Wilkie Collins, Mr. Percy Fitzgerald, Mr. Marcus Stone, Mr. H. F. Chorley, and many others; and observed that, on the occasion of charades and private theatricals there, Charles Dickens was always in fine form. He showed us an original manuscript programme (of which we were allowed to take a copy), written on half-a-sheet of foolscap; and from the fact that "_Gads Hill Gazette_ Printing Office" appears in the corner it would seem that it was printed on the occasion for the guests. It is as follows:--

_December 31st, 1863._

"A night's exploit on Gad's Hill."--_Shakespeare._

=Her Majesty's Servants=
will have the honour of presenting
Three Charades!!!

Each Charade is a word of two syllables, arranged
in three Scenes. The first scene is the first
syllable; the second is the second syllable; the
third scene is the entire word.

(_At the end of each Charade the audience is
respectfully invited to name the word._)

=Charade 1!=

Scene I.--The awful end of the Profligate Sailor.

Scene II.--On the way to foreign parts.

Scene III.--Miss Belinda Jane and the faithful
policeman (Division Q).

=Charade 2!!=

Scene I.--Archery at Castle Doodle.

Scene II.--Fra Diavolo a Dread Reality.

Scene III.--The Choice of a too Lowly Youth.

=Charade 3!!!=

Scene I.--The Pathetic History of the Poor Little Sweep.

Scene II.--Mussulman Barbarity to Christians.

Scene III.--Merry England.

_Gad's Hill Gazette_ Printing Office.

The various parts were taken by Dickens and his family, and the entire word of the last Charade is supposed to be "May Day."

In connection with charades, Mr. Hulkes alluded to Dickens's remarkable facility for "guessing a subject fixed on when he was out of the room, in half a dozen questions;" and related the story of how at the young people's game of "Yes and No," he found out the proper answer to a random question fixed upon by Mr. Charles Collins, one of the company, in his absence, which was, "The top-boot of the left leg of the head post-boy at Newman's Yard, London." The squire sometimes took a stroll with his neighbour, but observed "he was too fast a walker for me--I couldn't keep up with him!"

Mr. Hulkes possesses a nearly complete "file" (from 1862 to 1866) of the _Gad's Hill Gazette_, to which he was one of the subscribers, and which was edited by the novelist's son, Mr. Henry Fielding Dickens, and, as before stated, printed at Gad's Hill Place. It chronicled the arrivals and departures, the results of cricket matches and billiard games, with interesting gossip of events relating to the family and the neighbourhood. Occasionally there was a leading article, and now and then an acrostic appeared. Among the subscribers were the novelist and his family, The Lord Chief Justice, The Dean of Bristol, Lady Molesworth, Mrs. Milner Gibson, M. Stone, A. Halliday, J. Hulkes, C. Kent, W. H. Wills, H. F. Chorley, Edmund Yates, etc. The number for January 20th, 1866, contains a humorous correspondence on the management of the journal between "Jabez Skinner" and "Blackbury Jones." Mr. H. F. Dickens kindly allows a copy of the number for December 30th, 1865, to be reproduced, which is interesting as giving an account of the Staplehurst accident, and also the notice issued when the journal was discontinued.

THE

GAD'S HILL GAZETTE

Edited by H. F. Dickens

December 30th 1865 Price 2d

* * * * *

We are very glad to meet our subscribers again after such a long lapse of time, and we hope that they will patronise us in the same kind and indulgent manner as they did, last season.

In the circulars, we announced that some great improvements were to be made in the Gazette-- We are sorry that they cannot appear in this number (as our suppliers of type have disappointed us) but we hope that next week, we shall be able to publish this journal in quite a different form.

Hoping that our subscribers will excuse us this week, we beg to wish them all A Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year!

* * * * *

Christmas at Gad's Hill.

During the past week, Gad's Hill has resounded with the sounds of festivity and merriment.

(Continued on the next page)

As is usually the case, the house has been filled with the guests who have come to taste of Mr Dickens' hospitality. These consisted of Mr Mad, and Master Fechter, Mr & Mrs C. Collins, Mr Mrs and Master C. Dickens junr, Mr Morgan (who suddenly appeared on Christmas Day, having just returned from America) Mr M. Stone, Mr Chorley and Mr Dickenson.

The latter gentleman has not yet entirely recovered from the effects of a most disastrous railway accident in which he was a sufferer, and had it not been for the courage and intrepidity of Mr Dickens, he would not now be spending his Christmas at Gad's Hill.

A short time before the accident occurred, Mr Dickenson had a dispute with a French gentleman about the opening of the window when the former offered to change places, if the open window was disagreeable to his fellow traveller--this they did.--

Then came the accident, accompanied by all its frightful incidents. The French gentleman was killed, Mr Dickenson was stunned and hurled with great violence under the debris of a carriage.

Mr Dickens, who was in another compartment, managed to crawl out of the window and then, caring little for his own safety, busied himself in helping the wounded. Whilst engaged in doing this, he passed by a carriage, underneath which he saw a gentleman (Mr Dickenson) lying perfectly still, and bleeding from the eyes, ears, nose and mouth.

He was immediately taken to the town of Staplehurst where he so far recovered as to be able to return to London, that evening.

Next morning he was suffering from a very severe concussion of the brain and was ill for many weeks--But to our subject.

On Christmas Day, Mr, Mrs & Miss Malleson came to dinner. At about 9, an ex tempore dance began and was kept up till about 2 o'clock Tuesday morning. During the week, billiards has been much resorted to. (See next page)

All the visitors are still here, except Mr Fechter and family who left on December 26th, and Mr Morgan (who is to return on 31st. Talking of Mr Fechter, our readers will be glad to hear that he has made a most decided success in his new piece entitled--The Master of Ravenswood--

* * * * *

Sporting Intelligence.

Billiards

Of all the matches that have been played during the past week the most important was a Great Handicap on Christmas Day, the prize being a pewter. Annexed is an account of it.

Stone Scratch C Dickens jun 20 Harry 30
Fechter 5 Dickenson 20 C Dickens 35
Morgan 10 Collins 30 Plorn 40

Our space will not allow us to enter into the minute details of this match suffice it to say that Mr Dickenson won but that as regards good play, he was excelled by Mr Stone (who, however, was so heavily weighted that he could not win. Great credit is due to Mr Ch Dickens junr for the way in which he handicapped the men.

On Saturday 30th a match is to be played between The Earl of Darnley and Mr M Stone.

* * * * *

Gad's Hill Gazette Office.
January--1867.

In a circular issued last August, we announced that a final number of the Gad's Hill Gazette was to be published this Xmas. We are grieved however to state, that the shortening of the Wimbledon School holidays (in which establishment the Editor is a pupil) has rendered this impossible.

It is with feelings of the deepest regret that we find ourselves obliged to conclude the publication of our Journal in this sudden and unexpected manner, but we feel sure that the great indulgence of the Public will overlook this, as it has done many other great errors in the Gad's Hill Gazette.

In conclusion, we beg to take leave of our Subscribers in our public capacity of Editor, thanking them for their kindness in supporting our Journal, and wishing them all

--"A Happy New Year."--

(Signed) Sole Editor

Mrs. Hulkes had a number of pleasant recollections of Gad's Hill Place, and of Charles Dickens and his family. "As a girl," said this lady, "I was an admiring reader of his works, and I longed to see and know the author; but little did I think that my high ambition would ever be gratified." That a warm friendship existed between his admirer and Charles Dickens, who subsequently became her near neighbour, is evidenced by the fact that, in reply to her request, he allowed this lady the great privilege of reading the catastrophe of that exquisitely-pathetic and nobly-altruistic story of _A Tale of Two Cities_, some weeks before its publication, as appears from the following letter:--

"GAD'S HILL PLACE,
"HIGHAM BY ROCHESTER, KENT.
"_Sunday evening, Sixteenth Oct., 1857._

"MY DEAR MRS. HULKES,

"My daughter has shown me your note, and it has
impressed me with the horrible determination to
become a new kind of Bluebeard, and lay an awful
injunction of secrecy on you for five mortal
weeks.

"Here is the remainder of the _Tale of Two
Cities_. Not half-a-dozen of my oldest and most
trusty literary friends have seen it. It is a real
pleasure to me to entrust you with the
catastrophe, and to ask you to keep a grim and
inflexible silence on the subject until it is
published. When you have read the proofs, will you
kindly return them to me?

"With my regard to Mr. Hulkes,

"Believe me always,
"Faithfully yours,
"CHARLES DICKENS.

"MRS. HULKES."

Mrs. Hulkes said that when Dickens went to Paris in 1863, he jokingly said to her, "I am going to Paris; what shall I bring you?" She replied, "A good photograph of yourself, as I do not like the one you gave me; and I hear the French people are more successful than the English, or their climate may help them." And he brought a photograph of himself, of which there were only four printed. It now graces Mrs. Hulkes' drawing-room, and represents the novelist very life-like in full face, head and bust. The photograph was taken by Alphonse Maze, and has been exquisitely engraved in Mr. Kitton's _Charles Dickens by Pen and Pencil_.

Mrs. Hulkes mentioned a curious and interesting circumstance. On the night before the funeral of her friend, Miss Dickens sent down to the Little Hermitage to ask if she could kindly give her some roses. Mrs. Hulkes cut a quantity from one of the trees in the garden (Lamarque, she believes), and the tree never bloomed again, and soon after died. No doubt, as she observed, it bled to death from the excessive cutting. It was the second case only of the kind in her experience as a rose-grower during very many years.

Charles Dickens also took interest in his friend's son (their only child, who has since finished his University career), and this gentleman prizes as a relic a copy of _A Child's History of England_, which was presented to him, with the following inscription written in the characteristic blue ink--"Charles Dickens. To his little friend, Cecil James Hulkes. Christmas Eve, 1864." In a letter to Miss Hogarth, written from New York, on Friday, 3rd January, 1868, he says:--"I have a letter from Mrs. Hulkes by this post, wherein the boy encloses a violet, now lying on the table before me. Let her know that it arrived safely and retaining its colour."

There are many interesting relics of Gad's Hill Place now in the possession of the family at the Little Hermitage, notably Charles Dickens's seal with his crest, and the initials C. D., his pen-tray, his desk, a photograph of the study on 8th June, 1870 (a present from Miss Hogarth), the portrait above referred to, an arm-chair, a drawing-room settee, a dressing-table, and a library writing-table.

* * * * *

On another occasion we were favoured with an interview by Mr. J. N. Malleson, of Brighton, who formerly resided at the Great Hermitage, Higham, and who was a neighbour of Charles Dickens for many years. Mr. Malleson came to the Great Hermitage in 1859, and a day or two after Christmas Day in that year--having previously been a guest at the wedding of Dickens's second daughter Kate, with Mr. Charles Alston Collins--he met the novelist, who, stopping to chat pleasantly, asked his neighbours where they dined at Christmas? "Oh, Darby and Joan," said our informant. Dickens laughingly replied:--"That shall never happen again"; and the following year, and every year afterwards, except when their friend was in America, Mr. and Mrs. Malleson received and accepted invitations to dine at Gad's Hill Place. On the exception in question, the family of Dickens dined at the Great Hermitage.

* * * * *

In the autumn of the year 1889 we had a most interesting chat with Mr. William Stocker Trood, at his residence, Spearcehay Farm, Pitminster, pleasantly situated in the vale of Taunton, for many years landlord of the Sir John Falstaff at Gad's Hill. The first noteworthy circumstance to record is that his name is not _Edwin_ Trood, as commonly supposed, but William Stocker, as above stated, Stocker being an old family name. This fact disposes of the supposition that the former two names, with the alteration of a single letter, gave rise in Dickens's mind to the designation of the principal character in _The Mystery of Edwin Drood_. The name of "Trood" is by the substitution of one letter easily converted into Drood, and that word is perhaps more euphonious with "Edwin" as prefixed to it; but "William Stocker" is not by any means easily converted into "Edwin." The idea that "Edwin Drood" is derived from "William Stocker Trood" may therefore be dismissed as a popular fallacy. It may be mentioned, however, _en passant_, that Mr. Trood had a brother named Edward, who sometimes visited him at the Falstaff, and also a son who bore the name of his uncle.

We found our informant to be wonderfully genial, hale and hearty, although in his eighty-fifth year. He had a perfect recollection of Charles Dickens, and remembered his first coming to Gad's Hill Place. Before the house was properly furnished and put in order, both Mr. and Mrs. Dickens sometimes slept at the Falstaff; and afterwards, when visitors were staying at Gad's Hill Place, and the bedrooms there were full, some of them slept at the Inn; in particular, John Forster, Wilkie Collins, and Marcus Stone. He said Mr. Dickens was a very nice man to speak to, and Mrs. Dickens was a very nice lady. They were always kind and pleasant as neighbours, but Mr. Dickens did not talk much. Said Mr. Trood:--"When I was at Higham, Mr. Dickens used to say no one could put in a word; I had all the talk to myself." The sons were all very pleasant; in fact, he liked the family very much indeed.

Mr. Trood sometimes acted as local banker to Charles Dickens, and used to cash his cheques for him. Only the day before his death, he cashed a cheque for L22, and was subsequently offered L24 for it by an admirer of Dickens who desired the autograph; but to his credit it should be mentioned that he did not accept the offer.

Our informant next spoke of the wonderful partiality of Dickens to cricket; he would stand out all night if he could watch a cricket match. The matches were always played in Mr. Dickens's field, and the business meetings of the club were held monthly at the Falstaff. Mr. Trood was Treasurer of the club. Occasionally there was a dinner.

A circumstance was related which made a profound impression on our friend. The family at Gad's Hill Place were very fond of music, and on one occasion there were present as visitors two great violinists, one a German and the other an Italian, and it was a debated question among the listeners outside the gates, where the music could be distinctly heard, which played the better. Mr. Trood had just returned from Gravesend in the cool of the summer evening, about ten o'clock, and stood in the road opposite listening, "spellbound," to the delightful music. Miss Dickens played the accompaniments.

Mr. Trood spoke with a lively and appreciative recollection of the Christmas sports that were held in a field at the back of Gad's Hill Place, and of the good order and nice feeling that prevailed at those gatherings, although several thousand people were present. Among the games that were played, the wheeling of barrows by blind-folded men seemed to tickle him most.

Our octogenarian friend also spoke of the great love of Dickens for scarlet geraniums. Hundreds of the "Tom Thumb" variety were planted in the beds on the front lawn and in the back garden at Gad's Hill Place.

Soon after the terrible railway accident at Staplehurst, Dickens came over to the Falstaff and spoke to Mr. Trood, who congratulated him. Said Dickens, "I never thought I should be here again." It is a wonderful coincidence to record, that a young gentleman named Dickenson, who subsequently became intimate with the novelist, changed places (so as to get the benefit of meeting the fresh air) with a French gentleman in the same carriage who was killed, and Mr. Dickenson escaped! The accident happened on the 9th June, 1865, and Dickens died on the "fatal anniversary," 9th June, 1870.

Mr. Trood confirmed his daughter's (Mrs. Latter's) account of the _fracas_ with the men and performing bears, given in another chapter, adding, "That _was_ a concern."

* * * * *

The beautiful city of Exeter is not far from Taunton, and we naturally avail ourselves of the opportunity of stopping there for a few hours, and stroll over to see the village of Alphington. It was here, in the year 1839, that Charles Dickens took and furnished Mile End Cottage for his father and mother and their youngest son. He thus describes the event in a letter to Forster:--"I took a little house for them this morning (5th March, 1839), and if they are not pleased with it I shall be grievously disappointed. Exactly a mile beyond the city on the Plymouth road there are two white cottages: one is theirs, and the other belongs to their landlady. I almost forget the number of rooms, but there is an excellent parlour with two other rooms on the ground floor, there is really a beautiful little room over the parlour which I am furnishing as a drawing-room, and there is a splendid garden. The paint and paper throughout is new and fresh and cheerful-looking, the place is clean beyond all description, and the neighbourhood I suppose the most beautiful in this most beautiful of English counties." The negotiations with the landlady and the operation of furnishing the house are most humorously pourtrayed in the same letter.

The cottage is also described in _Nicholas Nickleby_, which he was writing at the time. Mrs. Nickleby, in allusion to her old home, calls it "the beautiful little thatched white house one storey high, covered all over with ivy and creeping plants, with an exquisite little porch with twining honeysuckles and all sorts of things."

Fifty years have passed since the parents of the novelist went to live at Alphington, which, notwithstanding the subsequent growth of the city, still continues to be a pretty suburb with fine views of the Ide Hills to the westward, and Heavitree to the eastward. Our efforts to obtain any reminiscences of the Dickens family in the village were quite unsuccessful--so long a time had elapsed since their departure--although, to oblige us, the vicar of the place kindly made enquiries, and took some interest in the matter.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] Since this was written, Gad's Hill Place has been purchased by the Hon. F. G. Latham. Major Budden has resigned his commission locally, and now holds a commission in the Limerick City Artillery Militia. It is very pleasant to place on record that in subsequent visits to "Dickens-Land" I was always received with friendly kindness by Major and Mrs. Budden, whose hospitality I often enjoyed. Their enthusiasm for the late owner of Gad's Hill Place, and their willingness to show every part of their beautiful residence to any one specially interested, was most gratifying to a lover of Dickens. Like the novelist, Mrs. Budden is fond of private theatricals, and has published a little book on _Mrs. Farley's Wax-Works and How to Use Them_.

[12] It has been suggested that the lines above quoted might give one the impression that they are those of Falstaff. This, of course, is not the case. They are spoken by Poins, when in company with Falstaff, Prince Henry, and others. They occur in Act I. Scene ii. of _King Henry IV._, Part 1.

A Note to Charles Knight's Edition of Shakespeare, contained in the "Illustrations to Act I." of the same Play, states that Gad's Hill appears to have been a place notorious for robbers before the time of Shakespeare, for Stevens discovered an entry of the date of 1558 in the books of the Stationers' Company, of a ballad entitled, "The Robbery at Gad's Hill." And the late Sir Henry Ellis, of the British Museum, communicated to Mr. Boswell, Editor of Malone's Shakespeare, a narrative in the handwriting of Sir Roger Manwood, Chief Baron of the Exchequer, dated 5th July, 1590, which shows that Gad's Hill was at that period the resort of a band of well-mounted robbers of more than usual daring, as appears from the following extract:--

"In the course of that Michaelmas term, I being at London, many robberies were done in the bye-ways at Gad's Hill, on the west part of Rochester, and at Chatham, down on the east part of Rochester, by horse thieves, with such fat and lusty horses, as were not like hackney horses nor far-journeying horses; and one of them sometimes wearing a vizard grey beard, he was by common report in the country called 'Justice Grey Beard;' and no man durst travel that way without great company."

[13] At an interview with Mr. H. F. Dickens some time afterwards, he told me the story of the origin of _The Gad's Hill Gazette_. There was a good deal of sand exposed at the back of the house, and the sons of the novelist--who like other boys were full of energy,--were fond of playing at "burying" each other. Their father naturally feared that this kind of play might have some disastrous effects, and develop into burying in earnest. So he said one day to his sons, "Why not establish a newspaper, if you want a field for your energies?" _The Gad's Hill Gazette_ was the result. At first the tiny journal was written on a plain sheet and copies made; then a Manifold Writer was used; and afterwards came the Printing Press.