ncourage vagrants." But it was
too good-natured a voice to belong to a political economist.

I wish I were as sure of a house as that the poor fellow will get a
shilling, in spite of the new poor-law and Lord Brougham.

The lady, after looking at the child, said something or other to her
companion; and, as we turned away at the corner, we heard the
discourager of vagrants apologizing to himself, and also reading a
severe lecture on the impropriety of alms-giving. "Remember, I
disapprove of it entirely. You are indebted for it to this lady, who
interposed for you." So the poor man got his shilling after all; and we
considered it a favourable omen of success in getting a house.

The next turn brought us to a dwelling which we think it a sort of
sacrilege to call a public-house. The Baskerville Arms, in the village
of Clyroe, is more fit for the home of a painter or a poet than for the
retail of beer, "to be drunk on the premises." There was a row of three
nice clean windows in the front; the house seemed to stand in the midst
of an orchard of endless extent, though in reality it faced the road;
and, with a clear recollection of the line,

"Oh, that for me some cot like this would smile,"

upon our heart and lips, we tapped at the door, and went into the room
on the right hand. Every thing was in the neatest possible
order--bunches of May in the grate, and bouquets of fresh flowers in two
elegant vases upon the table. What nonsense to call this a public-house!
It puts us much more in mind of Sloperton, Moore's cottage in Wiltshire;
and in a finer neighbourhood than any part of Wiltshire can show.

The landlady came; a fit spirit to rule over such a domain--the
beau-ideal of tidiness and good humour. There were only two bedrooms;
and one parlour was all they could give up.

The raven of Barnaby Rudge had a hard fight of it to maintain his
ground. We very nearly said die! for we had felt a sort of assurance
that this was our haven at last.

The landlady saw our woe.

"There's such a beautiful cottage," she said, "a mile and a half
further on."

"Is it furnished?"

"Well, I don't know. I think somehow it is. Would you like to go and see
it? I don't know but my husband would put enough of furniture into it to
do for you, if you liked it."

It was, at all events, worth the trial. A little girl was sent with us
to act as guide; and along a road we sauntered in supreme delight--so
quiet, so retired, and so rich i