be borne. We sink beneath it. You may tell Rachel--Ah, that name!
"TRACY TUPMAN."

[illustration: The "Leather Bottle," Cobham, Kent. From a
photograph]

No sooner had Mr. Pickwick read this plaintive missive than he
decided to follow, with his two other companions, Winkle and
Snodgrass, in search of their depressed friend. On the coach
journeyto Rochester "the violence of their grief had sufficiently
abated to admit of their making a very excellent early dinner,"
and having discovered the right road all three set forward again
in the after-noon to walk to Cobham.

"A delightful walk it was; for it was a pleasant afternoon in June,
and their way lay through a deep and shady wood, cooled by the
light wind which gently rustled the thick foliage, and enlivened by
the songs of the birds that perched upon the boughs. The ivy and
the moss crept in thick clusters over the old trees, and the soft
green turf overspread the ground like a silken mat. They emerged
upon an open park, with an ancient hall, displaying the quaint and
picturesque architecture of Elizabeth's time. Long vistas of
stately oaks and elm trees appeared on every side; large herds of
deer were cropping the fresh grass; and occasionally a startled
hare scoured along the ground, with the speed of the shadows thrown
by the light clouds which sweep across a sunny landscape like a
passing breath of summer."

Dickens wrote that charming descriptive passage in 1836, probably
whilst spending his honeymoon at Chalk near by, and anyone taking