We ring the bell at the gate which shuts the house out from view, and are promptly answered by a pleasant-speaking housemaid, who takes our cards on a salver, and ushers us into the library. We are requested to enter our names in the visitors' book, and this is done with alacrity. We are under the impression that we shall only be allowed to see the hall and study, a privilege allowed to any visitor on presentation of a card; but fortunately for us the courteous owner appears, and says that, as he has half an hour to spare, he will show us entirely over the house. He is better than his word, and we, delighted with the prospect, commence our inspection of the late home of the great novelist with feelings of singular pleasure, which are altogether a new sensation. Do any readers remember, when perusing the Waverley novels in their youth, a certain longing (as the height of their ambition, possibly gratified in after-life) to see Abbotsford, the home of the "Wizard of the North"? That is a feeling akin to the one which possesses us on the present occasion, a feeling of veneration almost amounting to awe as we recall, and seem to realize, not only the presence of Charles Dickens himself, but of the many eminent literary, artistic, and histrionic characters—his contemporaries—who assembled here, and shared the hospitality of the distinguished owner. "Dickens penetrates here—where does not his genial sunshine penetrate?"
Turning over the leaves of the visitors' book, Major Budden calls our attention to the signatures of Americans, who constitute by far the majority of visitors. Among the more recent appears the name of that accomplished actress, Miss Mary Anderson—herself a great admirer of Charles Dickens—who came accompanied by a party of friends. We also found her name, with the same party, in the visitors' book at Richard Watts's Charity in Rochester. Major Budden spoke also of the great enthusiasm always exhibited by our American friends in regard to Dickens, some of whom had told him more than once that it was the custom to instruct their children in a knowledge of his works: they read them, in fact, in the schools.
The library, or study, is a very cosy little room, made famous by Mr. Luke Fildes's picture of "The Empty Chair." It is situated on the west side of the porch, looking to the front, with the shrubbery in the distance; and among the most conspicuous objects contained in it are the curious counterfeit book-backs devised by Dickens and his friends, and arranged as shelves to fit the door of the room. They number nearly eighty, and a selection is given below of a few of the quaintest titles, viz.:—
The Quarrelly Review. 4 vols.
King Henry the Eighth's Evidences of Christianity. 5 vols.
Noah's Arkitecture. 2 vols.
Chickweed.