Meanwhile, of afternoons we pick up primroses at
Dalston, and Mary corrects me when I call 'em cowslips. God bless you
all, and pray remember me euphoniously to Mr. Gruvellegan. That Lee
Priory must be a dainty bower. Is it built of flints? and does it stand
at Kingsgate?
[1] Lamb was fond of this flourish, and it is frequently found in his
letters.
[2] Miss Hutchinson's invalid relative.
LXXVII.
TO BERNARD BARTON.
_September_ 2, 1823.
Dear B.B.,--What will you not say to my not writing? You cannot say I do
not write now. Hessey has not used your kind sonnet, nor have I seen it.
Pray send me a copy. Neither have I heard any more of your friend's MS.,
which I will reclaim whenever you please. When you come Londonward, you
will find me no longer in Covent Garden: I have a cottage in Colebrook
Row, Islington,--a cottage, for it is detached; a white house, with six
good rooms, The New River (rather elderly by this time) runs (if a
moderate walking pace can be so termed) close to the foot of the house;
and behind is a spacious garden with vines (I assure you), pears,
strawberries, parsnips, leeks, carrots, cabbages, to delight the heart
of old Alcinous. You enter without passage into a cheerful dining-room,
all studded over and rough with old books; and above is a lightsome
drawing-room, three windows, full of choice prints.
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