“What! get the staircases fixed, the doors and windows put in, the walls papered and painted?”

“Yes,” was answered, in a confident tone, which expressed indignation at the doubt we had implied.

We then ventured to say, that, “Allowing he could get the house ready by the time we required to move, we saw no sign of the coach-house and stable, lawn or flower-garden, kitchen or meadow.”

“As for the coach-house and stable,” said the showman, “I can get your horses put up in the village.”

We hastened to disclaim the horses, and humbly confessed that our stud consisted of one pony only.

“The less reason to be in a hurry for the stable, for you can put one pony anywhere; and as for the lawn and gardens, they will be laid out when the house is let; and the heath will be levelled and sown for a meadow, and anything else done for a good tenant that is in reason.”

We were likewise assured that wonders had been done already, for that four months ago the ground was covered with furze.  We got rid of our talkative friend with the promise that we would “think of it;” and indeed, we did think, that Mr.—­, who was a very respectable house-agent, ought to ascertain what sort of places were place in his hands before he sent people on such profitless journeys.  The expense attending this one amounted to nearly eight dollars.

Another week as passed in a similar manner, in going distances varying from ten to twenty-five miles daily in pursuit of houses which we were induced to think must suit us, but when seen proved as deceptive a those I have mentioned.  We gained nothing by our travels but the loss of time, money, and hope.  At last the idea entered our heads of going to some of the house-agents, and looking over their books.

Our first essay was at the office of Mr. A. B., in Bond street.  “Have you any houses to let at such a distance from town, with such a quantity of land, such a number of rooms?” &c.

“Oh, yes madam,” said the smiling clerk, and immediately opened a large ledger; “what rent do you propose giving?”

“From $250 to $350 yearly,” answered we, and felt how respectable we must appear in the opinion of the smart gentleman whom we addressed; how great then was our surprise when he closed his large volume with a crash, and with a look of supreme contempt said, “We have nothing of that kind in our books.”  To use one of Fanny Kemble’s expressions, “we felt mean,” and left the office of this aristocratical house-agent half ashamed of our humble fortunes.

I fear I should tire the patience of the reader, did I detail all our “adventures in search of a house,” but we must entreat indulgence for our last journey.  We once more started on the South-Western line, to see a house which, from the assurances we had received from the owner, resident in London, must a last be the house, and for which the rent asked was $350; but once more were we doomed to disappointment by finding that the “handsome dining and drawing-rooms” were two small parlors, with doors opening into each other; and that “five excellent bed-chambers” were three small rooms and two wretched attics.