Even now he is whetting one of his smallest razors to clean wipe me
out, perhaps. Well!
[Footnote 1:] An etching of Lamb, by Brooke Pulham, which is said to be
the most characteristic likeness of him extant.
XCVI.
TO THOMAS HOOD,
_September_ 18, 1827.
Dear Hood,--If I have anything in my head, I will send it to Mr. Watts.
Strictly speaking, he should have all my album-verses; but a very
intimate friend importuned me for the trifles, and I believe I forgot
Mr. Watts, or lost sight at the time of his similar "Souvenir." Jamieson
conveyed the farce from me to Mrs. C. Kemble; he will not be in town
before the 27th.
Give our kind loves to all at Highgate, and tell them that we have
finally torn ourselves outright away from Colebrooke, where I had _no_
health, and are about to domiciliate for good at Enfield, where I have
experienced _good_.
"Lord, what good hours do we keep!
How quietly we sleep!" [1]
See the rest in the "Compleat Angler."
We have got our books into our new house. I am a dray-horse if I was not
ashamed of the indigested, dirty lumber, as I toppled 'em out of the
cart, and blessed Becky that came with 'em for her having an unstuffed
brain with such rubbish. We shall get in by Michael's Mass. 'T was with
some pain we were evulsed from Colebrooke.
You may find some of our flesh sticking to the doorposts.
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