cool retreats, and lime avenues, and overhung
bathing-places, and all other things delicious
that season; until I have nearly gone mad with
hatred of Great Dowdy-street, and fancied
myself pretty able to comprehend the feelings of the
Polar bears in their dull retrogressive promenade
in the Zoological Gardens. That none of our
friends had ever heard of Great Dowdy-street;
that no cabman could be instructed as to its
exact whereabout, naming it generally as
"somewhere near the Fondlin';" that migration
to a friend's house in a habitable region to
dinner occasioned an enormous expense in cab
fare; that all the tradesmen with whom we had
previously dealt declined our custom, "as they
never sent that way;" that we found Tottenham-
court-road a line of demarcation, behind which
we left light, and sunshine, and humanity—on
our side of which we tumbled into darkness
and savagery; that we were in the midst, of a
Hansom cab colony, clattering home at all
hours of the night; and in the immediate
neighbourhood of all the organ men, who gave us
their final grind just before midnight; all these
were minor but irritating annoyances. At length,
after six years' experience of this life, we heard
that Uncle Snape was dead and had left me
some money, and we immediately determined on
quitting Great Dowdy-street.

"Oh! my life in Egypt!" sighs Cleopatra, in
the Dream of Fair Women, remembering the
dalliance and the wit, the Libyan banquets, and
all the delights of that brief but glorious season.
"Oh! my life in Agatha Villa, Old
Brompton!" say I, which was quite as brief,
and almost as glorious. We entered upon
Agatha Villa immediately on quitting Great
Dowdy-street, and revelled in the contrast.
Such an elegant house, such a dining-room in
red flock paper and black oak furniture, such a
drawing-room in satin paper and chintz, opening
with large French windows upon a little
lawn, such a study for me, such a spare
bedroom for a bachelor friend from Saturday till
Monday! It was at Agatha Villa that we
commenced our delightful little Sunday dinners—
which indeed finished in the same place. It
was at Agatha Villa we first discovered how fond
people were of us, what a popular writer I was,
how my oratorical displays at the Old Bailey
were making a sensation. People liked coming
to see us at Agatha Villa: not for the mere sake
of what they got, of course, but because they
were sure of meeting "such charming people"
at our house: money was all very well, they
would remark, but no money could bring together
such a host of genius as was always to be
seen at Agatha Villa. The host of genius (I'm
not speaking of myself) was expensive to entertain;
it stopped late, it dined heavily, it smoked
on the lawn, and remained sipping cold drinks
until past midnight. Its admirers remained too:
sometimes some of the host of genius borrowed
money and didn't return it; the host of genius
was always either painting a picture which I
was expected to buy, or giving a concert which
we were expected to patronise, or having a
"ben" for which we had to take stalls. From
one of the admirers of the host of genius, I
bought, a pair of horses; they were not good
horses; from another I purchased a phaeton, it
was a bad one! I confess I did not like the
manner in which some of the host of genius
used to climb up the walls and kiss their hands
to Miss Crump's young ladies who were walking
in the next garden, and I owned to Miss
Crump that it was too strong retaliation even
for the pianoforte practice at 5 A.M.; they could
not take any liberties with my neighbour on the
other side, for he was Dr. Winks, the celebrated
mad-doctor, and we were always in a state of
mental terror lest some of his patients should
get loose and come over the wall at us.
However, the life at Agatha Villa, though merry,
was brief. Through my own exertions, and
those of the host of genius, I ran through a
couple of thousand pounds in two years, and
then the Cotopaxi Grand Imperial Mining
Company, in which I had invested the rest of Uncle
Snape's money, went to smash, and I had to
give up Agatha Villa.

The thought of having to return to London
and its dreariness, in the summer which had just
set in, was the bitterest morsel of that tart of
humility which we were about to partake of;
and you may judge, therefore, with what delight
I received an offer of a country-house, rent free,
for a year. "It's a capital old house, any way,"
said old Cutler, its owner, "a capital house,
near town, and yet thoroughly in the country.
I'm going to take my gal abroad for a year to
see the Continent, and you're not only welcome
to live at Wollops, but I shall be obliged to you
for keeping the place aired." Now, Wollops
was a house, if you like! An old red-brick
Queen Anne mansion, with little deep mullioned
diamond-paned windows, with quaint old armour
in the hall, and a portrait of Brabazon de Wollop,
temp. Charles the Second, over the chimney-
piece; there were long passages, and tapestry-
hung rooms, and oak corridors, and secret doors,
and a wine-cellar so like a subterraneous dungeon,
that my heart sunk within me every time I
entered it; there were likewise numerous
bedrooms with tremendous bedsteads all plumes
and hangings; and a stone kitchen like that one
in the Tower of London which Mr. Cruikshank
drew. The house stood in the middle of splendid
grounds, there was a carriage-drive up to it,
its drawing and dining room windows looked
out upon a beautiful lawn dotted here and there
with brilliant beds of verbena and scarlet
geranium; and there was a lake, and a kitchen
garden, and an orchard, all kept up at Mr.
Cutler's expense; and everything was so noble
and so grand, that a friend, who knew the reason
of our quitting Agatha Villa, remarked, on seeing
Wollops, that one more attempt at retrenchment
would take us into Buckingham Palace. From
our windows we looked away over green fields,
to Harrow on the one side, to Highgate on the
other, and it was worth something when coming

From brawling courts
And dusty purlieus of the law,