58 Woodside. 



our way, the Hall in the Park now continuously in sight, 

 until at last we find the woods to the right hand becoming 

 broken, and cultivated fields taking their place. On the 

 other side of the road, a row of pine trees, apparently not in 

 the best of health, offers a nesting place for turtle doves, as 

 the noisy way in which they leave their nests testifies. Soon 

 the chimneys of several cottages appear in sight, and, as we 

 turn to the right, we enter the little village of Cobham. We 

 soon travel the length of the clean little street, and in a few 

 minutes are safely housed in the far-famed Dickens room, 

 at the world-known hostelry, The Leather Bottle, and 

 examine with interest the mementoes of one with whom all 

 human nature must ever remain in sympathy. A few 

 minutes, and we are paying our very best respects to a well- 

 earned repast. Communion with Nature is apt to give zest 

 to, rather than to detract from, the keenness of the appetite. 



Lunch over, we lounge for a short time in the old church- 

 yard, and worm our way through the little gate into the 

 courtyard, beyond where are the almshouses, a quiet retreat 

 for a few aged people. How quiet and peaceful the old 

 square looks ; a perfect haven of rest under the shadow of 

 the peaceful church by its side. 



Returning through the village, we pass by the top of the 

 road by which we entered it, and, glancing at the long 

 avenue of trees leading to the Hall, go on into the Park, 

 through which we intend to make our return journey. A 

 footpath runs through it, and is continued on into the woods 

 and over the fields, finally emerging towards the bottom of 

 the hill whence we started this morning. 



Refreshed by our meal, we step out quickly for a short 

 distance on the springy turf and yielding moss, the Hall 



