ate all kinds of memorials and
_Relics_, and assumed a look of fright and horror whenever he reproached
me with being a _Papist_, instead of a _Quaker_, which sect he pretended
to doat upon." The book would be Novello's album, with Lamb's "Free
Thoughts on Eminent Composers" in it (see next letter but one).

Shield was William Shield (1748-1829), the composer. He was buried in
Westminster Abbey in the same grave as Clementi. Nicolo Jomelli
(1714-1774) was a Neapolitan composer.]

LETTER 518

CHARLES LAMB TO WILLIAM HONE

May 21, 1830.

Dear Hone--I thought you would be pleased to see this letter. Pray if
you have time to, call on Novello, No. 66, Great Queen St. I am anxious
to learn whether he received his album I sent on Friday by our nine
o'clock morning stage. If not, beg inquire at the _Old Bell_, Holborn.

CHARLES LAMB.

Southey will see in the _Times_ all we proposed omitting is omitted.

[See notes to the letter to Southey above.]

LETTER 519

CHARLES LAMB TO SARAH HAZLITT

[Enfield, Saturday, May 24th, 1830.]

Mary's love? Yes. Mary Lamb quite well.

Dear Sarah,--I found my way to Northaw on Thursday and a very good woman
behind a counter, who says also that you are a very good lady but that
the woman who was with you was naught. These things may be so or not. I
did not accept her offered glass of wine (home-made, I take it) but
craved a cup of ale, with which I seasoned a slice of cold Lamb from a
sandwich box, which I ate in her back parlour, and proceeded for
Berkhampstead, &c.; lost myself over a heath, and had a day's pleasure.
I wish you could walk as I do, and as you used to do. I am sorry to find
you are so poorly; and, now I have found my way, I wish you back at
Goody Tomlinson's. What a pretty village 'tis! I should have come
sooner, but was waiting a summons to Bury. Well, it came, and I found
the good parson's lady (he was from home) exceedingly hospitable.

Poor Emma, the first moment we were alone, took me into a corner, and
said, "Now, pray, don't _drink_; do check yourself after dinner, for my
sake, and when we get home to Enfield, you shall drink as much as ever
you please, and I won't say a word about it." How I behaved, you may
guess, when I tell you that Mrs. Williams and I have written acrostics
on each other, and she hoped that she should have "no reason to regret
Miss Isola's recovery, by its depriving _her_ of our begun
correspondence." Emma stayed a month wit