After dragging the wheel, the coach ran rapidly down the descent, and then rolling on, stopped at a neat clean house, with a small garden in the front. At the little white gate were four fine setters, with a servant out of livery; who instantly touched his hat to Burrel, and, approaching the door, said, "This is the house, sir." "Very well," answered Burrel; "and now farewell Captain Delaware," he said, turning to his companion, and, giving him his hand with as much frank good humour as if he had addressed an old acquaintance, "I doubt not we shall meet again." Delaware grasped his hand without reply, and the other alighted. All his dogs sprang up to greet him with evident joy, much to the detriment of his clothes, but not the least of his good humour, and after gazing up and down the road for a moment as one does in a strange place, he walked through the little gate and entered the house, at the door of which stood a tidy old lady, evidently curtsying to a new lodger. The coach drove on; and then again stopped at the lodge of the park, where Captain Delaware alighted also. His portmanteau was given to the woman at the lodge; and he himself with a quick step walked up the path which led to the mansion. CHAPTER II. Whether there be something inherent in the nature of things which renders any object that man very much desires, thenceforth very difficult to be obtained; or whether it be, that, by a certain perversity in man's nature, he only desires those things that _are_ difficult to be obtained, I cannot tell; but one point is very clear in every body's experience, that whenever we fix our heart upon one particular object, and strive for it very ardently, however easy it might seem before, we find a thousand difficulties and obstacles start up upon our path, and overrule our wishes. Nevertheless, as there is nothing upon earth half so tiresome--ay, and half so useless, too--as a disquisition upon causes and effects, we will proceed with the events which gave rise to the above sage observation, which, by rights, should have followed this chapter as a corollary upon it, instead of a sort of epigraph at its head. The person who has figured before the reader during a long day's journey in a stage-coach under the name of Burrel, entered the small neat house we have before described; and, after having considered attentively with his eyes all the proportions and dimensions of the little parlour which was to be his sitting-room, he seated himself before the antique, and somewhat obscure, mahogany table that it contained, and addressed his servant--who had followed into the room, together with the decent, respectable landlady--pronouncing those two important, but somewhat laconic words, "Get dinner!"