Though the great mass of the house appeared to have sunk into the ground, the fine old chimneys looked as if they had grown taller, or left the house to sink without them. They almost rivalled in altitude the old trees of the avenue. They were visible from a great distance, but the house was not, for it stood in a hollow; and the ground about was finely watered by divers rivulets, which did not seem at all particular as to the course they took, but with a noble and liberal impartiality spontaneously or promiscuously irrigated, that is to say, sopped the meadows, grounds, and gardens, which surrounded the house. Such was the habitation which the wealthy cousin of the Hon. Philip Martindale proposed for the residence of a young gentleman born to be legislator, and proud of the antiquity of his family and the dignity of his high rank. Philip knew the house, and what is more, he knew that his cousin knew it. It was a keen and bitter mortification to have such a proposal made; but though he fully determined not to stoop so low as to accept it, he was too dependent to reject it point-blank. He merely said:-- “I am inclined to think, sir, from what I recollect of Trimmerstone Hall, that it will require more to put it into good repair than the present building is worth; and the situation being so very low and swampy, I am afraid that I should not enjoy my health there. But, sir, there is no absolute necessity for my having a distinct residence at present, while I remain single. I can reside with my family; and as I think of paying a closer attention to my parliamentary duties, I shall of course spend more of my time in London.” “Ay, ay, so you will; right, I forgot that. Yes, yes, you ought clearly to be more attentive to your parliamentary duties. Well, I am not sorry you think of leaving the Abbey. I shall certainly dispose of it. It was very amusing to build the house; and so the proverb will be verified--Fools build houses, and wise men live in them.” When a man calls himself a fool in the hearing of another, that other is in duty bound to contradict him: for it is not in the nature of things that any man really thinking himself a fool should avow that conviction. To speak paradoxically, if a man sincerely avows himself a fool, he thinks himself a wise man in having found out that he is a fool, and requires a compliment as a matter of course. It is the expected duty of every one therefore, hearing another call himself a fool, to contradict him. To do that well is difficult, and requires great address. It must not be contradicted point-blank and flatly, but it must be circuitously done. Every man who calls himself a fool is offended if he fancies that he is believed, is offended if he be not contradicted, and is also offended if he be contradicted, so as to give proof that he is suspected of expecting contradiction.