CHAPTER I.
We settle down in our new home, and I resolve to keep a diary.
Tradesmen trouble us a bit, so does the scraper. The Curate calls and
pays me a great compliment.
My clear wife Carrie and I have just been a week in our new house,
"The Laurels," Brickfield Terrace, Holloway - a nice six-roomed residence,
not counting basement, with a front breakfast-parlour. We have a little
front garden; and there is a flight of ten steps up to the front door, which,
by-the-by, we keep locked with the chain up. Cummings, Gowing, and
our other intimate friends always come to the little side entrance, which
saves the servant the trouble of going up to the front door, thereby taking
her from her work. We have a nice little back garden which runs down to
the railway. We were rather afraid of the noise of the trains at first, but
the landlord said we should not notice them after a bit, and took 2 pounds
off the rent. He was certainly right; and beyond the cracking of the
garden wall at the bottom, we have suffered no inconvenience.