attack from which she suffered about five, no,
six years ago, if I remember rightly, kept her
confined to her room for eleven months—at the
same time, Dr. Flook is of opinion that the
attack in this case is much less severe;" and so
he goes on. Nor have you any chance of escape
from him and his tribe. Sometimes, too, this
old gentleman will have a son, concerning whom
he is loquacious. "The establishment would
consist," this communicative person informs
you, "of himself and his wife, and just one son.
Indeed, it is on account of that son that they
wish to come to town for a while. The fact is,
that the boy, clever lad, made his way remarkably
well hitherto, has got an appointment in
the Admiralty, an appointment of rather an
exceptional nature, too, his mother mainly instrumental
in obtaining it through her cousin, Lord
Torpedo, and as it will be necessary for the boy
to be up in London, his mother thinks we
ought to look after him a little just at first.
A young fellow coming up to town for the
first time wants something in the shape of a
home."

Sometimes these communicative people raise
your hopes by the encomiums which they pass
upon your house, but it cannot be too distinctly
understood that their praises, and even their
promises, mean nothing. " Ah, very nice house,
very nice house indeed," one of these individuals
will say; "yes, I think it would suit me very
well. I've got a house at present, a good way
from here, at the other side of the town, a
larger house than this, with more bedrooms.
Indeed, it suits me very well, but my wife, she's
taken a fancy to this particular neighbourhood,
and nothing else will do, and ladies, you know,
ladies must have their way. Yes, I think this
house will do very well. When did you say it
would be vacant? Ah, well, I think I shall
take it—house agent, Mr. Smith, you say?
Yes; oh, it will do very nicely." Of this
gentleman you never hear again. He doesn't take
the house, nor does he go near Mr. Smith,
the agent.

There is a lady, too, with a flattering tongue,
who is not to be relied on. She has a morose
companion of the male sex with her, whom she
in vain seeks to warm into enthusiasm. She it
is who exclaims, " Oh, what a dear little
conservatory; what charming pictures; bedrooms
are nice and lofty, dear, aren't they?" To all
which the gentleman only responds by uttering
a sound which authors can only convey very
inadequately by the monosyllable " Humph."

Yet of that man who says " Humph," there is
more chance than of the flattering lady. It
may be set down as an axiom, that when you
have an article—house, horse, picture, what you
will—to dispose of, and when a lady or gentleman
praises that article very much, and says
that he or she will call again, you may look
upon such lady or gentleman thenceforth as
non-existent for your purpose. The disparagers
are disagreeable, but they have one merit at
least, they are trustworthy.

And this stands to reason. Would you, if
you were going to take a house, praise it to the
owner's face? It would be madness. You
would tempt him, on the spur of the moment, to
change his sovereigns into guineas, to turn the
scraper, and the letter-box, and the very
finger-plates on the drawing-room door into fixtures,
and invent a premium on the spot for your special
benefit. No, no; if you mean to take a house,
you disparage it, you look about you with an
appearance of disgust, you mutter to your
companion that " really you think the other house
round the corner would suit you better," and
that this particular residence is very dear. By
doing this, you humble the owner of the
property, you lower the worth of it in his own
eyes. You keep him humble and diffident, and
dispose him to penitence and abundant concession.

There is one more particular kind of
house-hunter, without mention of whom this small
list would be incomplete. This is the timid
visitor, and a more difficult customer to deal
with can hardly be imagined. There is no
getting him to look at things. There is no
getting him fairly into any room. He is so
dreadfully afraid of intruding. He stands with
his head thrust forward at the door. " This is
the drawing-room," says the servant; to which
the timid gentleman assents, but when invited
to enter, emphatically declines to do so. " He
can see from where he is, and it's very nice."
Nothing will induce him to enter any room in
which he catches sight of a human being; on
the contrary, he skips back as if he had been
shot, nor will he even " intrude " into any one
of the sleeping apartments. From these he
retires ghastly with fear, and, indeed, the
impression conveyed by his whole conduct is that
of an individual who believes that if he once
gets inside any one of the rooms which he is
invited to examine, he will be then and there
shut up, and not be delivered without payment
of a prodigious ransom.

This nervous gentleman may close the list
of house-hunters. They are a timid and
suspicious race, and seem to be on the look-out
for snares and pitfals at every turn. No doubt
their fears are not altogether groundless, a house
—like a horse—being generally one great
conglomerate mass of defects, which do not
declare themselves until we have paid our money
and lost all power of receding from the bargain.

[On re-perusing these pages, I cannot help
observing that they are characterised by a depth
of feeling which might lead some persons to
suppose, that, in describing some of the troubles
of a gentleman with a house on his hands, I am
treating of my own case. Nay, on one occasion
I remark that I have even spoken in the first
person singular. Let me then now banish all
disguise, and frankly inform the reader that he
is right. It is my house that is to let. Perhaps
this may act as an advertisement. It's
a nice house—Bronchitis Buildings, Brompton,
Number 6. Come and see it; and as to the
chair with the mother-of-pearl back, which