Perhaps you have heard from Kate that I succeeded yesterday in the very
first walk, and took a cottage at a place called Alphington, one mile
from Exeter, which contains, on the ground-floor, a good parlour and
kitchen, and above, a full-sized country drawing-room and three
bedrooms; in the yard behind, coal-holes, fowl-houses, and meat-safes
out of number; in the kitchen, a neat little range; in the other rooms,
good stoves and cupboards; and all for twenty pounds a year, taxes
included. There is a good garden at the side well stocked with cabbages,
beans, onions, celery, and some flowers. The stock belonging to the
landlady (who lives in the adjoining cottage), there was some question
whether she was not entitled to half the produce, but I settled the
point by paying five shillings, and becoming absolute master of the
whole!
I do assure you that I am charmed with the place and the beauty of the
country round about, though I have not seen it under very favourable
circumstances, for it snowed when I was there this morning, and blew
bitterly from the east yesterday. It is really delightful, and when the
house is to rights and the furniture all in, I shall be quite sorry to
leave it. I have had some few things second-hand, but I take it seventy
pounds will be the mark, even taking this into consideration. I include
in that estimate glass and crockery, garden tools, and such like little
things. There is a spare bedroom of course. That I have furnished too.
I am on terms of the closest intimacy with Mrs. Samuell, the landlady,
and her brother and sister-in-law, who have a little farm hard by. They
are capital specimens of country folks, and I really think the old woman
herself will be a great comfort to my mother. Coals are dear just
now--twenty-six shillings a ton. They found me a boy to go two miles out
and back again to order some this morning. I was debating in my mind
whether I should give him eighteenpence or two shillings, when his fee
was announced--twopence!
The house is on the high road to Plymouth, and, though in the very heart
of Devonshire, there is as much long-stage and posting life as you would
find in Piccadilly. The situation is charming. Meadows in front, an
orchard running parallel to the garden hedge, richly-wooded hills
closing in the prospect behind, and, away to the left, before a splendid
view of the hill on which Exeter is situated, the cathedral towers
rising up into the sky in the most picturesque manner possible. I don't
think I ever saw so cheerful or pleasant a spot. The drawing-room is
nearly, if not quite, as large as the outer room of my old chambers in
Furnival's Inn. The paint and paper are new, and the place clean as the
utmost excess of snowy cleanliness can be.
You would laugh if you could see me powdering away with the upholsterer,
and endeavouring to bring about all sorts of impracticable reductions
and wonderful arrangements. He has by him two second-hand carpets; the
important ceremony of trying the same comes off at three this afternoon.
I am perpetually going backwards and forwards. It is two miles from
here, so I have plenty of exercise, which so occupies me and prevents my
being lonely that I stopped at home to read last night, and shall
to-night, although the theatre is open. Charles Kean has been the star
for the last two evenings. He was stopping in this house, and went away
this morning. I have got his sitting-room now, which is smaller and more
comfortable than the one I had before.
You will have heard perhaps that I wrote to my mother to come down
to-morrow. There are so many things she can make comfortable at a much
less expense than I could, that I thought it best. If I had not, I could
not have returned on Monday, which I now hope to do, and to be in town
at half-past eight.
Will you tell my father that if he could devise any means of bringing
him down, I think it would be a great thing for him to have Dash, if it
be only to keep down the trampers and beggars. The cheque I send you
below.
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[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]