ual Swiss fashion by an external staircase), which is much the
prettier, having six windows and a door. There are shutters outside, and
the overhanging roof at first sight gives the building somewhat of a
top-heavy appearance, but this impression wears off after a time, and it
is found to be effective and well-proportioned. "The five mirrors" which
Dickens placed in the chalet have been removed from the upper room, but
they are scarcely necessary, the views of rich and varied foliage and
flowers seen from the open windows, through which the balmy air passes,
forming a series of pictures in the bright sunlight of the August
afternoon delightfully fresh and beautiful. We sit down quietly for a
few minutes and enjoy the privilege; we ponder on the many happy and
industrious hours spent by its late owner in this now classic building;
and we leave it sadly, with the recollection that here were penned the
last lines which the "vanished hand" was destined to give to the world.

The Earl of Darnley generously allows his neighbours to have a key of
his park, and Dickens had one of such keys, a privilege greatly
appreciated by him and his friends. Recently his lordship has erected a
staircase round one of the highest trees in the park, called the "crow's
nest," from whence a very pretty peep at the surrounding country is
obtained.

During our visit we venture to ask the portly housekeeper if she
remembers Charles Dickens? The ray of delight that illumines her
good-natured countenance is simply magical.

"Oh," she says, "I liked Mr. Dickens very much. He was always so full of
fun. Oh! oh! oh!" the recollection of which causes a fit of suppressed
laughter, which "communicates a blancmange-like motion to her fat
cheeks," and she adds: "He used to dine here, and was always very
popular with the family, and in the neighbourhood."

We cannot help thinking that such delightful places as Cobham Hall were
in Dickens's mind when, in _Bleak House_ (_a propos_ of Chesney Wold),
he makes the volatile Harold Skimpole say to Sir Leicester Dedlock--"The
owners of such places are public benefactors. They are good enough to
maintain a number of delightful objects for the admiration and pleasure
of us poor men, and not to reap all the admiration and pleasure that
they yield, is to be ungrateful to our benefactors."

Leaving the park by a pretty undulating walk, and passing on our way a
large herd of deer, their brown and fawn-coloured coats con