which have delighted all cultivated readers.

I want a phrase to express the combination of qualities which constitutes
Lamb's excellence in letters. In the absence of this, I must content
myself with referring to some of the papers which live most distinctly in
my recollection. I will not transcribe any part of his eulogy on Hogarth;
nor of his fine survey of "Lear," that grandest of all tragedies. They are
well known to students of books. I turn for a moment to the Elia Essays
only. In mere variety of subject (extent in a small space) they surpass
almost all other essays. They are full of a witty melancholy. Many of them
may be termed autobiographical, which trebles their interest with most
readers.

Let me recollect:--How he mourns over the ruins of Blakesmoor (once his
home on holidays), "reduced to an antiquity"! How he stalks, ghost-like,
through the desolate rooms of the South Sea House, or treads the avenues
of the Temple, where the benchers ("supposed to have been children once")
are pacing the stony terraces! Then there is the inimitable Sarah Battle
(unconquered even by Chance), arming herself for the war of whist; and the
young Africans, "preaching from their chimney-pulpits lessons of patience
to mankind." If your appetite is keen, by all means visit Bobo, who
invented roast pig: if gay, and disposed to saunter through the pleasant
lanes of Hertfordshire, go to Mackery End, where the Gladmans and Brutons
will bid you welcome: if grave, let your eyes repose on the face of dear
old Bridget Elia, "in a season of distress the truest comforter." Should
you wish to enlarge your humanity, place a few coins (maravedis) in the
palm of one of the beggars (the "blind Tobits") of London, and try to
believe his tales, histories or fables, as though they were the veritable
stories (told by night) on the banks of the famous Tigris. Do not despise
the poorest of the poor--even the writer of valentines: "All valentines