The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb — Volume 6 · Chapter 282Letter 542
This chapter is not translated yet. You are reading the original.
April 14th, 1832.
My dear Coleridge,—Not an unkind thought has passed in my brain about you. But I have been wofully neglectful of you, so that I do not deserve to announce to you, that if I do not hear from you before then, I will set out on Wednesday morning to take you by the hand. I would do it this moment, but an unexpected visit might flurry you. I shall take silence for acquiescence, and come. I am glad you could write so long a letter. Old loves to, and hope of kind looks from, the Gilmans, when I come.
Yours semper idem C.L.
If you ever thought an offence, much more wrote it, against me, it must have been in the times of Noah; and the great waters swept it away. Mary's most kind love, and maybe a wrong prophet of your bodings!—here she is crying for mere love over your letter. I wring out less, but not sincerer, showers.
My direction is simply, Enfield.
[Mr. Dykes Campbell's comment upon this note is that it was written to remove some mistaken sick-man's fancy.]