Monkhouse. I give a facsimile of it in my large
edition.

"'Time'--as was said of one of us." Johnson wrote of Shakespeare, in the
Prologue at the opening of Drury Lane Theatre in 1747:--

And panting Time toil'd after him in vain.

"The Saints' days." See note to the letter to Mrs. Wordsworth, Feb. 18,
1818.

"Mr. Gnwellegan." Probably Lamb's effort to write the name of Edward
Quillinan, afterwards Wordsworth's son-in-law, whose first wife had been
a Miss Brydges of Lee Priory.

"Lee Priory"--the home of Sir Egerton Brydges, at Ickham, near
Canterbury, for some years. He had, however, now left, and the private
press was closed.

In _Notes and Queries_, November 11, 1876, was printed the following
scrap, a postscript by Charles Lamb to a letter from Mary Lamb to Miss
H. I place it here, having no clue as to date, nor does it matter:--]

LETTER 317

(_Fragment_)

CHARLES LAMB TO MISS HUTCHINSON (?)

A propos of birds--the other day at a large dinner, being call'd upon
for a toast, I gave, as the best toast I knew, "Wood-cock toast," which
was drunk with 3 cheers.

Yours affect'y

C. LAMB.

LETTER 318

CHARLES LAMB TO JOHN BATES DIBDIN

[No date. Probably 1823.]

It is hard when a Gentleman cannot remain concealed, who affecteth
obscurity with greater avidity than most do seek to have their good
deeds brought to light--to haye a prying inquisitive finger, (to the
danger of its own scorching), busied in removing the little peck measure
(scripturally a bushel) under which one had hoped to bury his small
candle. The receipt of fern-seed, I think, in this curious age, would
scarce help a man to walk invisible.

Well, I am discovered--and thou thyself, who thoughtest to shelter under
the pease-cod of initiality (a stale and shallow device), art no less
dragged to light--Thy slender anatomy--thy skeletonian D---- fleshed and
sinewed out to the plump expansion of six characters--thy tuneful
genealogy deduced--

By the way, what a name is Timothy!

Lay it down, I beseech thee, and in its place take up the properer sound
of Timotheus--

Then mayst thou with unblushing fingers handle the Lyre "familiar to the
D----n name."

With much difficulty have I traced thee to thy lurking-place. Many a
goodly name did I run over, bewildered between Dorrien, and Doxat, and
Dover, and Dakin, and Daintry--a wilderness of D's--till at last I
thought I had hit it--my conjectures wandering upon a melancholy
J