1823 came another removal. During the summer, or when busy over
some piece of writing, Lamb had stayed a while at Dalston or other
semi-rural place away from the time-wasting friends and fascinations
of town. Thus when it was decided to leave Russell Street the move
was made to semi-suburban quietude and retirement.

When you come London-ward you will find me no longer in Covt
Gard. I have a Cottage, in Colebrook row, Islington. A
cottage, for it is detach'd; a white house, with 6 good
rooms; the New River (rather elderly by this time) runs (if
a moderate walking pace can be so termed) close to the foot
of the house; and behind is a spacious garden, with vines (I
assure you), pears, strawberries, parsnips, leeks, carrots,
cabbages, to delight the heart of old Alcinous. You enter
without passage into a cheerful dining-room, all studded
over and rough with old Books, and above is a lightsome
Drawing-room 3 windows, full of choice prints. I feel like a
great Lord, never having had a house before....

I heard of you from Mr. Pulham this morning, and that gave a
fillip to my Laziness, which has been intolerable. But I am
so taken up with pruning and gardening, quite a new sort of
occupation to me. I have gather'd my Jargonels, but my
Windsor Pears are backward. The former were of exquisite
raciness. I do now sit under my own vine, and contemplate
the growth of vegetable nature. I can now understand in what
sense they speak of FATHER ADAM. I recognize the
paternity, while I watch my tulips.

Were Lamb a matter-of-fact correspondent it might be pointed out that
tulips are not much to watch in September. During the winter of 1824-5
he suffered from ill health, and in April, 1825, he was allowed to
retire from the East India House with a pension of two-thirds of his
salary, less a small sum to assure an annuity for his sister in the
event of his dying first. For thirty-three years had he continued in
his office, and his salary had gradually grown from the modest L70 of
the beginning to ten times that amount at his retirement, so that he
became a superannuated man with an income ample for the modest
requirements of himself and Mary. On the subject of his retirement he
wrote some touching letters to friends such as Wordsworth and Bernard
Barton, and also in his accustomed manner made the crucial event the
subject of a deli