EDMONTON,

a village on the post road from London to Hertford. Here, in the churchyard, lie the remains of

CHARLES LAMB,

the warm-hearted and genial Elia, whose name has ever been dear to us. He was born on February 18th, 1775, in Crown Office Row, Inner Temple; and at the age of seven, being then in the school of Christ's Hospital, his appearance is thus described:-" Small of stature, delicate of frame, and constitutionally nervous and timid, he would seem unfitted to encounter the discipline of a school formed to restrain some hundreds of lads in the heart of the metropolis, or to fight his way among them. But the uniform sweetness of his disposition won him favour from all." At the age of twenty-one, having then been for three years a clerk in the India House, he began to write verses. There is no story" to connect His life was

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with the after-career of Charles Lamb. made up of great affections and deep domestic sorrows; and if a little frailty was thrown in, there was likewise added a noble-mindedness which shone resplendent over all. He died on the 27th of December, 1834, five months only after the death of his friend and schoolfellow, Coleridge. "However much of him has departed," said poor Thomas Hood, who has since followed, "there is still more of him that cannot die; for as long as humanity endures, and man holds fellowship with man, his spirit will be extant."

Lamb, it is pretty generally known, stammered in his speech. Some one was mentioning in his presence the cold-heartedness of the Duke of Cumberland, in restraining

the duchess from rushing up to the embrace of her son, whom she had not seen for a considerable time, and insisting on her receiving him in state. "How horribly cold it was," said the narrator. "Yes," said Lamb, in his stuttering way; "but you know he is the Duke of Cu-cumber-land." This was an instance of stammering wit.

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Lamb's gravestone is inscribed with the following lines from the pen of the Rev. H. T. Cary:—

"Farewell, dear friend! that smile, that harmless mirth, No more shall gladden our domestic hearth;

That rising tear, with pain forbid to flow

Better than words-no more assuage our woe.

That hand outstretch'd from small but well-earn'd store
Yields succour to the destitute no more.

Yet art thou not all lost: through many an age,
With sterling sense and humour, shall thy page
Win many an English bosom, pleased to see
That old and happier vein revived in thee.
This for our earth; and if with friends we share
Our joys in heaven, we hope to meet thee there."

From one of Lamb's delightful letters, written in November, 1824, we learn that the drudgery of his position in Leadenhall-street began to affect him. Congratulating one of his dearest friends upon his marriage, he thus writes in his own quaint figures of speech:

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'By the way, the deuce a bit of cake has come to hand, which hath an inauspicious look at first; but I comfort myself that that mysterious service hath the property of sacramental bread, which mice cannot nibble, nor time moulder. I am married myself to a severe stepwifewho keeps me, not at bed and board, but at desk and board, and is jealous of my morning aberrations. I cannot slip out

to congratulate kinder unions. It is well she leaves me alone o'nights-the accursed Day-hag BUSINESS. She is even now peeping over me to see I am writing no love letters. I come, my dear. Where is the Indigo Sale Book?"

Returning from the grave of "gentle Elia," deeply impressed by thoughts of the sincerity of his affections, we seek the burial-place of one with whom in life Charles Lamb had some converse, and who was the last to quit the board around which so many celebrated men had gathered. For this purpose we wend our way towards another of the suburbs of the wide-spreading metropolis, to

HORNSEY,

in the thirteenth century called Haringhee, and subsequently Haringey, whence is derived its present name.

From time immemorial the manor has belonged to the see of London; and among the rectors of the parish we may mention Lewis Atterbury, brother of the Bishop of Rochester, and likewise William Cole, author of much antiquarian research, preserved in MS. in the British Museum. An episcopal palace was anciently to be found here, and the place has likewise some historic associations. In 1386, for instance, the Duke of Gloucester and other nobles assembled in Hornsey Park to oppose the favourite of Richard II.; and here, likewise, Edward V., after the death of his father, was met by a procession of the citizens of London on his approach to the capital.

Hornsey Church, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, retains little of its pristine character, but groups picturesquely with the trees and meadow scenery. In the church is buried Samuel Buckley, the learned editor of Thuanus,