of them ever do dine, with a bottle of wine per man, in this desert of the Dodo, it must make good for the doctor next day!" If the Dodo is undiscoverable, the same need not be said of the Pavilionstone Hotel, because we know that Dickens gave that name to the town of Folkestone, in the chapter entitled "Out of Town." The lion of Pavilionstone, he tells us, is its great hotel, and one sees at once how he manufactured the name, for its hotel was, and is to-day, called the Pavilion. "A dozen years ago, going over to Paris by South-Eastern Tidal Steamer," the narrative goes on, "you used to be dropped upon the platform of the main line Pavilionstone Station (not a junction then) at eleven o'clock on a dark winter's night, in a roaring wind; and in the howling wilderness outside the station was a short omnibus which brought you up by the forehead the instant you got in at the door; and nobody cared about you, and you were alone in the world. You bumped over infinite chalk, until you were turned out at a strange building which had just left off being a barn without having quite begun to be a house, where nobody expected your coming, or knew what to do with you when you were come, and where you were usually blown about, until you happened to be blown against the cold beef, and finally into bed. At five in the morning you were blown out of bed, and after a dreary breakfast, with crumpled company, in the midst of confusion, were hustled on board a steamboat, and lay wretched on deck until you saw France lingering and surging at you with great vehemence over the bowsprit." [Illustration: THE LORD WARDEN HOTEL, DOVER _See page 253_] [Illustration: THE PAVILION HOTEL, FOLKESTONE _From old Engravings_] This was written in 1855, and even by then Dickens had to admit that things had changed considerably for the better.