ut this last is premature by
half that time. Cut off in the flower of Colebrook. The Middletonian
stream and all its echoes mourn. Even minnows dwindle. A parvis fiunt
MINIMI. I fear to invite Mrs. Hood to our new mansion, lest she envy it,
& rote [? rout] us. But when we are fairly in, I hope she will come &
try it. I heard she & you were made uncomfortable by some unworthy to be
cared for attacks, and have tried to set up a feeble counteraction thro'
the Table Book of last Saturday. Has it not reach'd you, that you are
silent about it? Our new domicile is no manor house, but new, &
externally not inviting, but furnish'd within with every convenience.
Capital new locks to every door, capital grates in every room, with
nothing to pay for incoming & the rent L10 less than the Islington one.
It was built a few years since at L1100 expence, they tell me, & I
perfectly believe it. And I get it for L35 exclusive of moderate taxes.
We think ourselves most lucky. It is not our intention to abandon Regent
Street, & West End perambulations (monastic & terrible thought!), but
occasionally to breathe the FRESHER AIR of the metropolis. We shall put
up a bedroom or two (all we want) for occasional ex-rustication, where
we shall visit, not be visited. Plays too we'll see,--perhaps our own.
Urban! Sylvani, & Sylvan Urbanuses in turns. Courtiers for a spurt, then
philosophers. Old homely tell-truths and learn-truths in the virtuous
shades of Enfield, Liars again and mocking gibers in the coffee houses &
resorts of London. What can a mortal desire more for his bi-parted
nature?

O the curds & cream you shall eat with us here!

O the turtle soup and lobster sallads we shall devour with you there!

O the old books we shall peruse here!

O the new nonsense we shall trifle over there!

O Sir T. Browne!--here.

O Mr. Hood & Mr. Jerdan there,

thine,

C (urbanus) L (sylvanus) (ELIA ambo)--

Inclos'd are verses which Emma sat down to write, her first, on the eve
after your departure. Of course they are only for Mrs. H.'s perusal.
They will shew at least, that one of our party is not willing to cut old
friends. What to call 'em I don't know. Blank verse they are not,
because of the rhymes--Rhimes they are not, because of the blank verse.
Heroics they are not, because they are lyric, lyric they are not,
because of the Heroic measure. They must be call'd EMMAICS.------

[Mr. Watts was Alaric A. Watts.

"Thro' the _Table Book_." La