ome a letter from Lamb to Hone, dated May 19, 1823. William
Hone (1780-1842), who then, his stormy political days over, was
publishing antiquarian works on Ludgate Hill, had sent Lamb his _Ancient
Mysteries Described_, 1823. Lamb thanks him for it, and invites him to
14 Kingsland Row, Dalston, the next Sunday: "We dine exactly at 4."]

LETTER 321

MARY LAMB TO MRS. RANDAL NORRIS

Hastings, at Mrs. Gibbs, York Cottage, Priory, No. 4. [June 18, 1823.]

My dear Friend,--Day after day has passed away, and my brother has said,
"I will write to Mrs. [? Mr.] Norris to-morrow," and therefore I am
resolved to write to _Mrs. Norris_ to-day, and trust him no longer. We
took our places for Sevenoaks, intending to remain there all night in
order to see Knole, but when we got there we chang'd our minds, and went
on to Tunbridge Wells. About a mile short of the Wells the coach stopped
at a little inn, and I saw, "Lodgings to let" on a little, very little
house opposite. I ran over the way, and secured them before the coach
drove away, and we took immediate possession: it proved a very
comfortable place, and we remained there nine days. The first evening,
as we were wandering about, we met a lady, the wife of one of the India
House clerks, with whom we had been slightly acquainted some years ago,
which slight acquaintance has been ripened into a great intimacy during
the nine pleasant days that we passed at the Wells. She and her two
daughters went with us in an open chaise to Knole, and as the chaise
held only five, we mounted Miss James upon a little horse, which she
rode famously. I was very much pleased with Knole, and still more with
Penshurst, which we also visited. We saw Frant and the Rocks, and made
much use of your Guide Book, only Charles lost his way once going by the
map. We were in constant exercise the whole time, and spent our time so
pleasantly that when we came here on Monday we missed our new friends
and found ourselves very dull. We are by the seaside in a _still less
house_, and we have exchanged a very pretty landlady for a very ugly
one, but she is equally attractive to us. We eat turbot, and we drink
smuggled Hollands, and we walk up hill and down hill all day long. In
the little intervals of rest that we allow ourselves I teach Miss James
French; she picked up a few words during her foreign Tour with us, and
she has had a hankering after it ever since.

We came from Tunbridge Wells in a Postchaise, and