ye water before
me, alternately dipping in vial and inkstand. This may enflame
my zeal against Bankrupts--but it was my speculation when
I could see better. Half the world's misery (Eden else) is
owing to want of money, and all that want is owing to Bankrupts.
I declare I would, if the State wanted Practitioners,
turn Hangman myself, and should have great pleasure in
hanging the first after my salutary law should be establish'd.
I have seen no annuals and wish to see none. I like your
fun upon them, and was quite pleased with Bowles's sonnet.
Hood is or was at Brighton, but a note, prose or rhime, to him,
Robert Street, Adelphi, I am sure would extract a copy of
_his_, which also I have not seen. Wishing you and yours all
Health, I conclude while these frail glasses are to me--eyes.

C.L.

["Dioclesian." The Emperor Diocletian abdicated the throne after
twenty-one years' reign, and retired to his garden. Charles V. of
Germany imitated the Roman Emperor, and after thirty-six years took the
cowl.

"Hazlitt has just been defrauded." The failure of Hunt & Clarke, the
publishers of the _Life of Napoleon_, cost Hazlitt L500. He had received
only L140 towards this, in a bill which on their insolvency became
worthless.

"Friend * * * * *." Not identifiable.]

LETTER 498

CHARLES LAMB TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

[P.M. January 22, 1830.]

And is it a year since we parted from you at the steps of Edmonton
Stage? There are not now the years that there used to be. The tale of
the dwindled age of men, reported of successional mankind, is true of
the same man only. We do not live a year in a year now. 'Tis a punctum
stans. The seasons pass us with indifference. Spring cheers not, nor
winter heightens our gloom, Autumn hath foregone its moralities, they
are hey-pass re-pass [as] in a show-box. Yet as far as last year occurs
back, for they scarce shew a reflex now, they make no memory as
heretofore--'twas sufficiently gloomy. Let the sullen nothing pass.

Suffice it that after sad spirits prolonged thro' many of its months, as
it called them, we have cast our skins, have taken a farewell of the
pompous troublesome trifle calld housekeeping, and are settled down into
poor boarders and lodgers at next door with an old couple, the Baucis
and Baucida of dull Enfield. Here we have nothing to do with our
victuals but to eat them, with the garden but to see it grow, with the
tax gatherer but to hear him knock, with the maid but