town before the 27th. Give our kind loves to all at
Highgate, and tell them that we have finally torn ourselves
out right away from Colebrooke, where I had _no_ health, and
are about to domiciliate for good at Enfield, where I have
experienced _good_.

"Lord what good hours do we keep!
How quietly we sleep!"

See the rest in the Complete Angler. We have got our books
into our new house. I am a drayhorse if I was not asham'd of
the indigested dirty lumber as I toppled 'em out of the
cart, and blest Becky that came with 'em for her having an
unstuff'd brain with such rubbish. We shall get in by
Michael's mass. 'Twas with some pain we were evuls'd from
Colebrook. You may find some of our flesh sticking to the
door posts. To change habitations is to die to them, and in
my time I have died seven deaths. But I don't know whether
every such change does not bring with it a rejuvenescence.
'Tis an enterprise, and shoves back the sense of death's
approximating, which tho' not terrible to me, is at all
times particular distasteful. My house-deaths have generally
been periodical, recurring after seven years, but this last
is premature by half that time. Cut off in the flower of
Colebrook. The Middletonian stream and all its echoes mourn.
Even minnows dwindle. _A parvis fiunt MINIMI._ I fear to
invite Mrs. Hood to our new mansion, lest she envy it and
rote us. But when we are fairly in, I hope she will come and
try it. I heard she and you were made uncomfortable by some
unworthy to be cared for attacks, and have tried to set up