So fading upon me, from disuse, have been the
beauties of Nature, as they have been confidently called; so ever fresh
and green and warm are all the inventions of men and assemblies of men
In this great city. I should certainly have laughed with dear Joanna.
Give my kindest love _and my sister's_ to D. and yourself. And a kiss
from me to little Barbara Lewthwaite. [1] Thank you for liking my play!
C.L.
XXXVI.
TO MANNING.
_February_, 1801.
I am going to change my lodgings, having received a hint that it would
be agreeable, at our Lady's next feast. I have partly fixed upon most
delectable rooms, which look out (when you stand a-tiptoe) over the
Thames and Surrey Hills, at the upper end of King's Bench Walks, in the
Temple. There I shall have all the privacy of a house without the
encumbrance; and shall be able to lock my friends out as often as I
desire to hold free converse with my immortal mind; for my present
lodgings resemble a minister's levee, I have so increased my
acquaintance (as they call 'em), since I have resided in town. Like the
country mouse, that had tasted a little of urban manners, I long to be
nibbling my own cheese by my dear self without mousetraps and
time-traps. By my new plan, I shall be as airy, up four pair of stairs,
as in the country; and in a garden, in the midst of enchanting, more
than Mahometan paradise, London, whose dirtiest drab-frequented alley,
and her lowest-bowing tradesman, I would not exchange for Skiddaw,
Helvellyn, James, Walter, and the parson into the bargain.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159