"Dance of Death"! I hear that the Two Noble Englishmen have parted no sooner than they set foot on German earth; but I have not heard the reason. Possibly to give moralists an handle to exclaim, “Ah me! what things are perfect?" I think I shall adopt your emendation in the "Dying Lover," though I do not myself feel the objection against "Silent Prayer." My tailor has brought me home a new coat lapelled, with a velvet collar. He assures me every body wears velvet collars now. Some are born fashionable, some achieve fashion, and others, like your humble servant, have fashion thrust upon them. The rogue has been making inroads hitherto by modest degrees, foisting upon me an additional button, recommending gaiters; but to come upon me thus, in a full tide of luxury, neither becomes him as a tailor nor the ninth of a man. My meek gentleman was robbed the other day, coming with his wife and family in a one-horse shay from Hampstead. The villains rifled him of four guineas, some shillings and half-pence, and a bundle of customers' measures, which they swore were bank notes. They did not shoot him, and when they rode off he addrest them with profound gratitude, making a congee: "Gentlemen, I wish you good night, and we are very much obliged to you that you have not used us ill!" And this is the cuckoo that has had the audacity to foist upon me ten buttons on a side, and a black velvet collar! A cursed ninth of a scoundrel ! When you write to Lloyd, he wishes his Jacobin correspondents to address him as Mr C. L. Love and respects to Edith. I hope she is well. Your sincerely, C. LAMB. XXXIX. TO THE SAME Dec. 27, 1798. Dear Southey, Your friend John May has formerly made kind offers to Lloyd of serving me in the India House by the interest of his friend Sir Francis Baring. It is not likely that I shall ever put his goodness to the test on my own account, for my prospects are very comfortable. But I know a man, a young man, whom he could serve thro' the same channel, and I think would be disposed to serve if he were acquainted with his case. This poor fellow (whom I know just enough of to vouch for his strict integrity and worth) has lost two or three employments from illness, which he cannot regain; he was once insane, and from the distressful uncertainty of his livelihood, has reason to apprehend a return of that malady. He has been for some time dependant on a woman whose lodger he formerly was, but who can ill afford to maintain him, and I know that on Christmas night last he actually walked about the streets all night, rather than accept of her Bed which she offer'd him, and offer'd herself to sleep in the kitchen and that in consequence of that severe cold he is labouring under a bilious disorder, besides a depression of spirits which incapacitates him from exertion when he most needs it. For God's sake, Southey, if it does not go against you to ask favors, do it now, ask it as for me-but do not do a violence to your feelings, because he does not know of this application, and will suffer no disappointment. What I meant to say was this-there are in the India House what are called Extra Clerks, not on the Establishment, like me, but employed in Extra business, by-jobs,— these get about £50 a year, or rather more, but A Director can put in at any time a young man in this office, and it is by no means consider'd so great a favor as making an establish'd Clerk. He never rise. would think himself as rich as an Emperor if he could get such a certain situation, and be relieved from those disquietudes which I do fear may one day bring back his distemper. You know John May better than I do, but I know enough to believe that he is a good man-he did make me that offer that I have mention'd, but you will perceive that such an offer cannot authorize me in applying for another Person. But I cannot help writing to you on the subject, for the young man is perpetually before my eyes, and I should feel it a crime not to strain all my petty interest to do him service, tho' I put my own delicacy to the question by so doing. I have made one other unsuccessful attempt already. At all events I will thank you to write, for I am tormented with anxiety. I suppose you have somehow heard that poor Mary Dollin has poisoned herself, after some interviews with John Reid, the ci-devant Alphonso of her days of hope. How is Edith? XL. TO THE SAME C. LAMB. Jan. 21st, 1799. I am requested by Lloyd to excuse his not replying to a kind letter received from you. He is at present situated in most distressful family perplexities, which I am not at liberty to explain, but they are such as to demand all the strength of his mind, and quite exclude any attention to foreign objects. His brother Robert (the flower of his family) hath eloped from the persecutions of his father, and has taken shelter with me. What the issue of his adventure will be, I know not. He hath the sweetness of an angel in his heart, combined with admirable firmness of purpose; an uncultivated, but very original, and I think, superior, genius. But this step of his is but a small part of their family troubles. I am to blame for not writing to you before on my own account; but I know you can dispense with the expressions of gratitude, or I should have thanked you before for all May's kindness. He has liberally supplied the person I spoke to you of with money, and had procured him a situation just after himself had lighted upon a similar one, and engaged too far to recede. But May's kindness was the same, and my thanks to you and him are the same. May went about on this business as if it had been his own. But you knew John May before this, so I will be silent. I I shall be very glad to hear from you when convenient. I do not know how your Calendar and other affairs thrive; but above all, I have not heard a great while of your "Madoc "-the opus magnum. would willingly send you something to give a value to this letter; but I have only one slight passage to send you, scarce worth the sending, which I want to edge in somewhere into my play, which, by the way, hath not received the addition of ten lines, besides, since I saw you. A father, old Walter Woodvil, (the witch's protégé,) relates this of his son John, who "fought in adverse armies," being a royalist, and his father a parliamentary man : "I saw him in the day of Worcester fight, Who gave his youthful politics a bent Quite from the principles of his father's house ;) There did I see this valiant Lamb of Mars, This spring of honour, this unbearded John, This veteran in green years, this sprout, this Woodvil, Which seem'd to scorn the manage of a boy,) Prick forth with such a mirth into the field, To mingle rivalship and acts of war Even with the sinewy masters of the art. You would have thought the work of blood had been |