It seemed as if any change must be to something worse.
"Nevertheless, you must have a change.

Doctor Jessop insists upon it.
Here have I been beating up and down the country for a week past--'Adventures in Search of a Country Residence'-- and, do you know, I think I've found one at last.

Shouldn't you like to hear about it ?" I assented, to please him.
"Such a nice, nice place, on the slope of Enderley Hill.

A cottage--Rose Cottage--for it's all in a bush of cluster-roses, up to the very roof." "Where is Enderley ?" "Did you never hear of Enderley Flat, the highest tableland in England?
Such a fresh, free, breezy spot--how the wind sweeps over it! I can feel it in my face still." And even the description was refreshing, this heavy, sultry day, with not a breath of air moving across the level valley.
"Shouldn't you like to live on a hill-side, to be at the top of everything, overlooking everything?
Well, that's Enderley: the village lies just under the brow of the Flat." "Is there a village ?" "A dozen cottages or so, at each door of which half-a-dozen white little heads and a dozen round eyes appeared staring at me.

But oh, the blessed quiet and solitude of the place! No fights in filthy alleys! no tan-yards--I mean"-- he added, correcting himself--"it's a thorough country spot; and I like the country better than the town." "Do you, still?
Would you really like to take to the 'shepherd's life and state,' upon which my namesake here is so eloquent?
Let us see what he says." And from the handful of books that usually lay strewn about wherever we two sat, I took up one he had lately got, with no small pains I was sure, and had had bound in its own proper colour, and presented it to me--"The Purple Island," and "Sicelides," of Phineas Fletcher.