of the road, which nevertheless was well situated;
half-way up a green hill, with its aspect due south, a little cascade
falling down artificial rock-work, and a terrace with a balustrade, and a
few broken urns and statues before its Ionic portico; while on the
roadside stood a board, with characters already half effaced, implying
that the house was to be "Let unfurnished, with or without land."

The abode that looked so cheerless, and which had so evidently hung long
on hand, was the property of Squire Hazeldean. It had been built by his
grandfather on the female side--a country gentleman who had actually been
in Italy (a journey rare enough to boast of in those days), and who, on
his return home, had attempted a miniature imitation of an Italian villa.
He left an only daughter and sole heiress, who married Squire Hazeldean's
father: and since that time, the house, abandoned by its proprietors for
the larger residence of the Hazeldeans, had been uninhabited and
neglected. Several tenants, indeed, had offered themselves; but your
squire is slow in admitting upon his own property a rival neighbor. Some
wanted shooting. "That," said the Hazeldeans, who were great sportsmen
and strict preservers, "was quite out of the question." Others were fine
folks from London. "London servants," said the Hazeldeans, who were moral
and prudent people, "would corrupt their own, and bring London prices."
Others, again, were retired manufacturers, at whom the Hazeldeans turned
up their agricultural noses. In short, some were too grand, and others
too vulgar. Some were refused because they were known so well: "Friends
are best at a distance," said the Hazeldeans. Others because they were
not known at all: "No good comes of strangers," said the Hazeldeans. And
finally, as the house fell more and more into decay, no one would take it
unless it was put into thorough repair: "As if one was made of money!"
said the Hazeldeans. In short, there stood the house unoccupied and
ruinous; and there, on its terrace, stood the two forlorn Italians,
surveying it with a smile at each other, as, for the first time since
they set foot in England, they recognized, in dilapidated pilasters and
broken statues, in a weed-grown terrace and the remains of an orangery,
something that reminded them of the land they had left behind.

On returning to the inn, Dr. Riccabocca took the occasion of learning
from the innkeeper (who was indeed a tenant of the Squire's) such