Through the long years of his short life he was always consistent in his love for Kent and the old surroundings.  When the after days came and while travelling abroad, how vividly the childish love returned!  As he passed rapidly over the road on his way to France he once wrote:  “Midway between Gravesend and Rochester 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.

“‘Halloa!’ said I to the very queer small boy, ‘where do you live?’

“‘At Chatham,’ says he.

“‘What do you do there?’ said 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 annoyed 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.”

What stay-at-home is there who does not know the Bull Inn at Rochester, from which Mr. Tupman and Mr. Jingle attended the ball, Mr. Jingle wearing Mr. Winkle’s coat? or who has not seen in fancy the “gypsy-tramp,” the “show-tramp,” the “cheap jack,” the “tramp-children,” and the “Irish hoppers” all passing over “the Kentish Road, bordered” in their favorite resting-place “on either side by a wood, and having on one hand, between the road-dust and the trees, a skirting patch of grass?  Wild-flowers grow in abundance on this spot, and it lies high and airy, with the distant river stealing steadily away to the ocean, like a man’s life.”

Sitting in the beautiful chalet during his later years and watching this same river stealing away like his own life, he never could find a harsh word for the tramps, and many and many a one has gone over the road rejoicing because of some kindness received from his hands.  Every precaution was taken to protect a house exposed as his was to these wild rovers, several dogs being kept in the stable-yard, and the large outer gates locked.  But he seldom made an excursion