r a short man, with a spare body and legs so small
and thin that Thomas Hood once spoke of them as "immaterial legs." His
head, however, was large, and his brow fine; his nose, large and hooked,
was in a face which early showed lines of care and trouble; his eyes
were large and expressive, twinkling with humor but full of piercing
inquiry, and searching with keen interest everything about him; his
mouth was large and firm, but around it there flitted a smile that
showed the genial, humorous soul of the big-hearted boy.

Lamb's habits were peculiar, there is no denying that, and his habits of
dress made him even more noticeable. Almost always he wore a black coat,
knickerbockers and black gaiters. The old-fashioned cut of his clothes
and their worn appearance showed the narrowness of his means, which,
however, never caused him to neglect either clothing or person, for he
was remarkably neat in his ways.

[Illustration: CHARLES LAMB 1775-1834]

Although a poor boy, he was educated in the famous old Christ's
Hospital School in London, but when he was ready for college he found
himself barred by his stammering, stuttering tongue. Giving up his hope
of further schooling, he was glad to take a small clerkship in a
government office, where he remained for thirty-three years, a long
period with little or no advancement.

It was in 1792, when Charles was about seventeen years of age, that he
was given his clerkship, and for nearly four years he lived happily,
supporting his parents and his sister in their humble home. Mary was
eleven years older than Charles, a quiet gentle creature whom everybody
loved, though in some respects she was peculiar. There were things, too,
that troubled the family and made them reserved and inclined to be
oversensitive. Not only were they very poor, but there had been insanity
on the mother's side, and Charles, himself, had at one time been in
brief confinement for irrational actions. Mary, too, had occasionally
shown signs of madness, but no one anticipated the dreadful event which
took place in 1796.

It came upon them like a stroke of lightning out of a clear sky. All
were gathered together for their noon meal when Mary leaped to her feet
and ran wildly about the room, shrieking in the terrifying tones of the
insane. She caught the forks and spoons from the table, threw them about
the room, and then, seizing a case knife, plunged it into the heart of
her mother. Although one of the flying fo