ther and glorious S.T.C.

Yours,

C. LAMB.

[The Rev. James Gillman was the eldest son of Coleridge's physician and
friend. He was born in 1808 and ordained in 1831. He thought in 1833 of
standing as candidate for the vicarship of Enfield, but did not obtain
it. After acting as Under Master of Highgate Grammar School he became in
1836 Rector of Barfreystone, in Kent. In 1847 he became Vicar of Holy
Trinity, Lambeth. He died in 1877.

Mary Lamb having become ill again had been moved to Edmonton, to a
private home for mental patients. Lamb followed her soon after, and
settled in the same house. It still stands (1912) almost exactly as in
the Lambs' day.]

LETTER 579

CHARLES LAMB TO JOHN FORSTER

[No date. May, 1833.]

D'r F. Can you oblige me by sending 4 Box orders undated for the Olympic
Theatre? I suppose Knowles can get 'em. It is for the Waldens, with whom
I live. The sooner, the better, that they may not miss the "Wife"--I
meet you at the Talfourds' Saturday week, and if they can't, perhaps you
can, give me a bed.

Yours ratherish unwell

C. LAMB.

Mr. Walden's, Church Street, Edmonton.

Or write immediately to say if you can't get em.

[Knowles' play "The Wife," produced at Covent Garden, was moved to the
Olympic on May 9.]

LETTER 580

CHARLES LAMB TO JOHN FORSTER

[P.M. May 12, 1833.]

Dear Boy, I send you the original Elias, complete. When I am a little
composed, I shall hope to see you and Proctor here; may be, may see you
first in London.

C.L.

[In the Dyce and Forster collection, at South Kensington, are preserved
some of these MSS.

Here should come a letter to Miss Rickman, dated May 23, 1833. "Perhaps,
as Miss Kelly is just now in notoriety, it may amuse you to know that
'Barbara S.' is _all_ of it true of _her_, being all communicated to
me
from her own mouth. The 'wedding' you of course found out to be Sally
Burney's."]

LETTER 581

CHARLES LAMB TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

End of May nearly, [1833].

Dear Wordsworth, Your letter, save in what respects your dear Sister's
health, chear'd me in my new solitude. Mary is ill again. Her illnesses
encroach yearly. The last was three months, followed by two of
depression most dreadful. I look back upon her earlier attacks with
longing. Nice little durations of six weeks or so, followed by complete
restoration--shocking as they were to me then. In short, half her life
she is dead to me, and the other half is ma