Passing on the right the handsome residence of the Head Master of the Grammar School, we cross the Vines, and turn on the right hand to Minor Canon Row, a terrace of seven red-brick houses at the north end of _St. Margaret Street_ and on the south side of the Cathedral Close. This locality bears the appellation, in the before-mentioned book, of Minor Canon Corner, the residence of the _Rev. Septimus Crisparkle_ and his mother, the “china shepherdess.” In chapter 6 we find the following pleasant reference to the same:— “Minor Canon Corner was a quiet place in the shadow of the Cathedral, which the cawing of the rooks, the echoing footsteps of rare passers, the sound of the Cathedral bell, or the roll of the Cathedral organ, seemed to render more quiet than absolute silence. . . . Red-brick walls harmoniously toned down in colour by time, strong-rooted ivy, latticed windows, panelled rooms, big oaken beams in little places, and stone-walled gardens where annual fruit yet ripened upon monkish trees, were the principal surroundings of pretty old Mrs. Crisparkle and the Reverend Septimus as they sat at breakfast.” Immediately north of this position stands the old Cathedral of Rochester, with its “well-known massive grey square tower,” in which, we may remember, the respected _Mr. John Jasper_ was engaged as Lay Precentor; with the reputation of being devoted to his art, and “having done such wonders with the choir.” In the interior, on the wall of the south-west transept, is a quaint monument to the memory of _Richard Watts_, a prominent townsman to whom further reference will be made. Underneath this is placed a brass memorial-tablet, inscribed— “CHARLES DICKENS.—Born at Portsmouth, seventh of February 1812. Died at Gadshill Place, by Rochester, ninth of June 1870. Buried in Westminster Abbey. To connect his memory with the scenes in which his earliest and his latest years were passed, and with the associations of Rochester Cathedral and its neighbourhood, which extended over all his life, this tablet, with the sanction of the Dean and Chapter, is placed by his executors.” The author’s latest suggestive sketch, in association with this ancient fane, may be here suitably recalled:— “A brilliant morning shines on the old city. Its antiquities and ruins are surpassingly beautiful, with the lusty ivy gleaming in the sun, and the rich trees waving in the balmy air. Changes of glorious light from moving boughs, songs of birds, scents from gardens, woods, and fields—or, rather, from the one great garden of the whole cultivated island in its yielding time—penetrate into the Cathedral, subdue its earthy odour, and preach the Resurrection and the Life. The cold stone tombs of centuries ago grow warm; and flecks of brightness dart into the sternest marble corners of the building, fluttering there like wings.”