17th century). On the walls we find specimens of that somewhat rare
fern, the scaly spleenwort (_Ceterach officinarum_).

[Illustration: Cliffe Church]

Time does not permit us to go on to Gravesend, which like this place
was one of Dickens's favourite spots ("We come, you see" [says Mr.
Peggotty, speaking of himself and Ham to David Copperfield, when they
visited him at Salem House], "the wind and tide making in our favor, in
one of our Yarmouth lugs to Gravesen'"), so we defer our visit to that
popular resort until another occasion.

We notice in places where the harvest has been cleared (which, alas!
owing to excess of wet and absence of sun, has not been an abundant
one), preparations for cultivation next year, exhibiting that peculiar
effect from ploughing which that gifted writer and born naturalist, the
late Richard Jeffreys, described in his book _Wild Life in a Southern
County_, with that love for common things which was so characteristic of
him:--

"The ploughmen usually take special care with their work near public
roads, so that the furrows end on to the base of the highway shall be
mathematically straight. They often succeed so well that the furrows
look as if traced with a ruler, and exhibit curious effects of vanishing
perspective. Along the furrow, just as it is turned, there runs a
shimmering light as the eye traces it up. The ploughshare, heavy and
drawn with great force, smooths the earth as it cleaves it, giving it
for a time a 'face,' as it were, the moisture on which reflects the
light. If you watch the farmers driving to market, you will see that
they glance up the furrows to note the workmanship and look for game;
you may tell from a distance if they espy a hare, by the check of the
rein and the extended hand pointing."

Our destination is now Higham--"Higham by Rochester, Kent,"--Dickens's
nearest village, in which, from his first coming to Gad's Hill, he took
the deepest interest, and after a further long tramp of nearly four
miles steadily maintained, we reach Lower Higham towards dusk; and in a
lane we ask an old labourer (who looks as though he would be all the
better for "Three Acres and a Cow") if we are on the right road to
Higham Station. Curtly but civilly the man answers, "Keep straight on,"
when an incident occurs which brightens up matters considerably. The
questioner says to the labourer, "Do you remember the late Charles
Dickens?" (We always spoke, when in the district, of "th