mplete, even to the styes and
kennels, which by all accounts were to be given away. One such
advertisement I particularly remember for a kind of insane generosity
which pervaded it. It described at length a farmhouse, 'stone-built
and covered with ivy' (observe the very definite sense of the
picturesque conveyed in this phrase), containing ten rooms, commanding
pleasant views of a well-wooded country, together with a large orchard,
and one hundred and fifty acres of freehold land, the whole of which
might be purchased for 750 pounds; and, added the advertiser, 'the
furniture at present in the house is included in the price.' I do not
know where this terrestrial Paradise existed; I believe it was in
Essex; but I often regretted that I made no effort to discover it.

However, the morning paper, if it contained no paragraph comparable
with this in point of style and seduction, certainly did appear
singularly rich in Paradises. Philanthropists, disguised as
land-agents, contended eagerly with one another through many columns of
advertisements, offering a reluctant world all the advantages of rural
happiness on what appeared merely nominal terms. It appeared that they
did not even want the money, which they mentioned only in a kind of
gentlemanly whisper; pay them but 100 pounds in sound cash, and the
rest might stand at mortgage upon easy terms for an indefinite period!
One might have imagined that the whole of rural England was
depopulated; that Eden itself had been cut up into building lots; that,
in fact, the land-agent was subsidised by a paternal government to
persuade the townsman to turn landed proprietor on terms which even the
squatter in new lands would regard as generous.

The reality I soon found to be entirely different. The moment I set
about the deliberate business of finding a cottage I made a series of
surprising discoveries which I will now relate.

In the first place, I found that many of these much vaunted farmhouses
were situated in districts utterly destitute of beauty, and even
desolate. One specimen may stand for the whole. I omit the
particulars of the advertisement, which was drawn up in the usual
style; but I must say, in justice to its author, that when I
interviewed him in his city office he did what he could to discourage
too abundant hope. He did not go the length of admitting his
description false, but he told me drily that 'I had better see the
thing for myself.' An hour's journ