“Stop!  Stop!” cried I; “how much do you intend to give a-year for all these conveniences:” 

“How much?” Why, I should say we ought not to give more than $250.”

“We ought not,” said I, gravely, “but I greatly fear we shall for that amount have to put up with a far inferior home to the one you contemplate.  But come, let us answer a few of these advertisements; some of them depict the very place you wish for.”

So after selecting those which, when they had described in bright colors the houses to be let, added, “Terms very moderate,” we “presented compliments” to Messrs. A., B., C., D., and in due time received cards to view the “desirable country residences” we had written about.  But our hopes of becoming the fortunate occupants of any one of those charming abodes were soon dashed to the ground; for with the cards came the terms; and we found that a “very moderate rental” meant from $600 to $750 per annum.  We looked at each other rather ruefully; and the ungenerous remark of “I told you so” rose to my lips.  However, I did not give it utterance, but substituted the words, “Never mind, let us send for another ‘Times,’ and only answer those advertisements which state plainly the rent required.”  This time we enlarged our ideas on the subjects of rent and distance, and resolved that if that beautiful place near Esher would suit us, we would not mind giving $300 a-year for it.

In a few days arrived answers to our last inquiries.  We fixed on the one which appeared the most eligible, but were a little dismayed to find that “near Esher” meant six miles from the station.

“Never mind,” said H., resolutely, “the pony can take us to it in fine weather, and in winter we must not want to go to London.”

We started the next morning by rail, and found the “Cottage” almost as pretty as it had appeared on paper.  But, alas! it been let the day previous to our arrival, and we had to return to town minus five dollars for our expenses.

The next day, nothing daunted,—­indeed, rather encouraged by finding the house we had seen really equal to our expectations,—­we set off to view another “villa,” which, from the particulars we had received from the agent, appeared quite as attractive.  This time we found the place tenantless; and, as far as we were concerned, it would certainly remain so.  It had been represented as a “highly-desirable country residence, and quite ready for the reception of a family of respectability.”  It was dignified with the appellation of “Middlesex Hall,” and we were rather surprised when we found that this high-sounding name signified a mean-looking place close to the road; and when the door was opened for our admission, that we stepped at once from the small front court into the drawing-room, from which a door opened into a stone kitchen.  The rest of the accommodation corresponded with this primitive mode of entrance; the whole place was in what is commonly