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.