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Lamb, Charles, 1775-1834

"The Best Letters of Charles Lamb"

Does Master Hannah give maccaroons
still, and does he fetch the Cobbetts from my attic? Perhaps it wouldn't
be too much trouble for him to drop the enclosed up at my aforesaid
chamber, and any letters, etc., with it; but the enclosed should go
without delay. N.B.--He isn't to fetch Monday's Cobbett, but it is to
wait my reading when I come back. Heigh-ho! Lord have mercy upon me, how
many does two and two make? I am afraid I shall make a poor clerk in
future, I am spoiled with rambling among haycocks and cows and pigs.
Bless me! I had like to have forgot (the air is so temperate and
oblivious here) to say I have seen your brother, and hope he is doing
well in the finest spot of the world. More of these things when I
return. Remember me to the gentlemen,--I forget names. Shall I find all
my letters at my rooms on Tuesday? If you forget to send 'em never mind,
for I don't much care for reading and writing now; I shall come back
again by degrees, I suppose, into my former habits. How is Bruce de
Ponthieu, and Porcher and Co.?--the tears come into my eyes when I think
how long I have neglected--.
Adieu! ye fields, ye shepherds and--herdesses, and dairies and
cream-pots, and fairies and dances upon the green.
I come, I come. Don't drag me so hard by the hair of my head, Genius of
British India! I know my hour is come, Faustus must give up his soul, O
Lucifer, O Mephistopheles! Can you make out what all this letter is
about? I am afraid to look it over.


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