eld, which I hope to show you at some time when you can
get a few days up to the great Town. Believe me it would give both of us
great pleasure to show you all three (we can lodge you) our pleasant
farms and villages.--

We both join in kindest loves to you and yours.--

CH. LAMB REDIVIVUS.

Saturday.

[The edition of Bunyan was that published for Barton's friend, John
Major, and John Murray in 1830, with a life of Bunyan by Southey, and
illustrations by John Martin and W. Harvey, and a prefatory poem not by
Mrs. Hemans but by Bernard Barton immediately before Bunyan's "Author's
Apology for his Book," from which Lamb quotes.

"Pidcock's." Pidcock showed his lions at Bartholomew Fair; he was
succeeded by Polito of Exeter Change.

"Heath." This was Charles Heath (1785-1848), son of James Heath, a great
engraver of steel plates for the Annuals.

"Mitford's Salamander God." I cannot explain this, except by Mr.
Macdonald's supposition that Lamb meant to write "Martin's."

"The Gem." See note below, p. 839.

Hood's entertainment for Mathews and Frederick Yates, then
joint-managers of the Adelphi, I have not identified. Authors' names on
play-bills were, in those days, unimportant. The play was the thing.

Cary. The Rev. H.F. Cary, translator of Dante.

Coleridge and the Annuals. For example, Coleridge's "Names" was in the
_Keepsake_ for 1829; his "Lines written in the Album at Elbingerode" in
part in the _Amulet_ for 1829. He had also contributed previously to the
_Literary Souvenir_, the _Amulet_ and the _Bijou_.

Here should come an unprinted note from Lamb to Charles Mathews, dated
October 27, 1828, referring to the farce "The Pawnbroker's Daughter,"
which Lamb offered to Mathews for the Adelphi. As I have said, this
farce was never acted.]

LETTER 463

CHARLES LAMB TO CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE

[Enfield, October, 1828.]

Dear Clarke,--We did expect to see you with Victoria and the Novellos
before this, and do not quite understand why we have not. Mrs. N. and V.
[Vincent] promised us after the York expedition; a day being named
before, which fail'd. 'Tis not too late. The autumn leaves drop gold,
and Enfield is beautifuller--to a common eye--than when you lurked at
the Greyhound. Benedicks are close, but how I so totally missed you at
that time, going for my morning cup of ale duly, is a mystery. 'Twas
stealing a match before one's face in earnest. But certainly we had not
a dream of your appropinqui