of Rochester he was leaving everything that had given his
early life its picturesqueness or sunshine."

What the Lake District is to Wordsworthians, Melrose to lovers of Scott,
and Ayr to Burns, Rochester and its neighbourhood is to Dickens
enthusiasts throughout the English-speaking world.

The very subtlety of the spell in the former cases holds aloof many an
average mortal who grasps at once the home thrusts, the lightly veiled
satire, the poor human foibles, fads, and weaknesses in the characters of
Dickens. The ordinary soul, in whom the "meanest flower that grows"
produces no tears, may possibly be conscious of a lump in his throat as he
reads of the death of Jo or Little Nell. The deaths of Fagin and Bill
Sikes are, after all, a more native topic to the masses than the final
exit of Marmion.

Not only so, but the very atmosphere of the human abodes, to say nothing
of minute and readily identified descriptions of English scenery,
permeates the stories of Dickens.

Gad's Hill at Higham can, to be sure, hardly be reckoned as a London
suburb, but on the other hand it was, in a way, merely a suburban
residence near enough thereto to be easily accessible.

Even in his childhood days Dickens had set his heart upon the possession
of this house, which was even then known as Gad's Hill Place. His father,
who at that time had not fallen upon his unfortunate state, had encouraged
him to think that it might be possible, "when he should have grown to a
man," did he but work hard.

At any rate Dickens was able to purchase the estate in 1856, and from that
date, until his death in 1870, it was occupied by him and his family.
Writing to Forster at this time, Dickens stated that he had just "paid the
purchase-money for Gad's Hill Place" (L1,790). How Dickens' possession of
the house actually came about is told in his own words, in a letter
written to his friend, M. De Cerjet, as follows:

"I happened to be walking past (the house) a year or so ago, with my
sub-editor of _Household Words_ (Mr. W. H. Wills), when I said to him:
'You see that house? It has always a curious interest for me, because when
I was a small boy down in these parts, I thought it the most beautiful
house (I suppose because of its famous old cedar-trees) ever seen. And my
poor father used to bring me to look at it, and used to say that if ever
I grew up to be a clever man perhaps I might own that house, or such
another house. In remembrance of which, I