In 1822 Charles Lamb and his sister travelled as far as Paris, neither of
them understanding a word of the French language. What tempted them to
undertake this expedition I never knew. Perhaps, as he formerly said, when
journeying to the Lakes, it was merely a daring ambition to see "remote
regions." The French journey seems to have been almost barren of good. He
brought nothing back in his memory, and there is no account whatever of
his adventures there. It has been stated that Mary Lamb was taken ill on
the road; but I do not know this with certainty. From a short letter to
Barron Field, it appears, indeed, that he thought Paris "a glorious
picturesque old city," to which London looked "mean and new," although the
former had "no Saint Paul's or Westminster Abbey." "I and sister," he
writes, "are just returned from Paris. We have eaten frogs! It has been
such a treat! Nicest little delicate things; like Lilliputian rabbits."
But this is all. His Reminiscences, whatever they were, do not enrich his
correspondence. In conversation he used to tell how he had once intended
to ask the waiter for an egg (oeuf), but called, in his ignorance, for Eau
de vie, and that the mistake produced so pleasant a result, that his
inquiries afterwards for Eau de vie were very frequent.

In his travels to Cambridge, which began to be frequent about this time,
his gains were greater. For there he first became acquainted with Miss
Emma Isola, for whom, as I can testify, he at all times exhibited the
greatest parental regard. When he and Mary Lamb first knew her, she was a
little orphan girl, at school. They invited her to spend her holidays with
them; and she went accordingly: the liking became mutual, and gradually
deepened into great affection. The visit once made and so much relished,
became habitual; and Miss Isola's holidays were afterwards regularly spent
at the Lambs' house. She used to take long walks with Charles, when his
sister was too old and infirm to accompany him. Ultimately she was looked