three acres of good meadow-land, an excellent coach-house and
stabling, with houses for cows, pigs, and poultry, all in good order.

The "bad neighborhood" was not so very bad. The cottages just outside
the gates were small, new buildings; and once inside, you saw nothing
but your own grounds. It possessed the advantage of being less than
two miles from a station, and not more than twelve from London.

"This will do," we both exclaimed, "if the rent is not too high."

We had been asked $600 for much inferior places; so that it was with
great anxiety we directed our civil driver to take us to the party who
had the disposal of the house. When there, we met with the welcome
intelligence, that house, gardens, orchard, meadows, and buildings,
were all included in a rental of $370 per annum. We concluded the
bargain there and then, and on that day fortnight took possession of
"Our Farm of Four Acres."

Before we close this chapter, we will address a few words to such of
our readers as may entertain the idea that houses in the country may
be had "for next to nothing." We had repeatedly heard this asserted,
and when we resolved to give $300 a year, we thought that we should
have no difficulty in meeting with a respectable habitation for that
sum, large enough for our family and with the quantity of land we
required, as well as within a moderate distance of London. We have
already told the reader how fallacious we found this hope to be.
Houses within forty or fifty miles of London, in what are called "good
situations," are nearly, if not quite as high rented, as those in the
suburbs, and land worth quite as much. If at any time a "cheap place"
is to be met with, be quite sure that there is some drawback to