Chapter 14

TO MISS ----.

"Cambridge, June 30. 1807.

"'Better late than never, Pal,'" is a saying of which you know the origin, and as it is applicable on the present occasion, you will excuse its conspicuous place in the front of my epistle. I am almost superannuated here. My old friends (with the exception of a very few) all departed, and I am preparing to follow them, but remain till Monday to be present at three _Oratorios_, two _Concerts_, a _Fair_, and a Ball. I find I am not only _thinner_ but _taller_ by an inch since my last visit. I was obliged to tell every body my _name_, nobody having the least recollection of my _visage_, or person. Even the hero of _my Cornelian_ (who is now sitting _vis-à-vis_, reading a volume of my _Poetics_) passed me in Trinity walks without recognising me in the least, and was thunderstruck at the alteration which had taken place in my countenance, &c. &c. Some say I look _better_, others _worse_, but all agree I am _thinner_--more I do not require. I have lost two pounds in my weight since I left your _cursed_, _detestable_, and _abhorred_ abode of _scandal_,[72] where, excepting yourself and John Becher, I care not if the whole race were consigned to the _Pit of Acheron_, which I would visit in person rather than contaminate my _sandals_ with the polluted dust of Southwell. _Seriously_, unless obliged by the _emptiness_ of my purse to revisit Mrs. B., you will see me no more.

"On Monday I depart for London. I quit Cambridge with little regret, because our _set_ are _vanished_, and my _musical protégé_ before mentioned has left the choir, and is stationed in a mercantile house of considerable eminence in the metropolis. You may have heard me observe he is exactly to an hour two years younger than myself. I found him grown considerably, and, as you will suppose, very glad to see his former _Patron_. He is nearly my height, very _thin_, very fair complexion, dark eyes, and light locks. My opinion of his mind you already know;--I hope I shall never have occasion to change it. Every body here conceives me to be an _invalid_. The University at present is very gay from the fêtes of divers kinds. I supped out last night, but eat (or ate) nothing, sipped a bottle of claret, went to bed at two, and rose at eight. I have commenced early rising, and find it agrees with me. The Masters and the Fellows all very _polite_, but look a little _askance_--don't much admire _lampoons_--truth always disagreeable.

"Write, and tell me how the inhabitants of your _Menagerie_ go _on_, and if my publication goes _off_ well: do the quadrupeds _growl_? Apropos, my bull-dog is deceased--'Flesh both of cur and man is grass.' Address your answer to Cambridge. If I am gone, it will be forwarded. Sad news just arrived--Russians beat--a bad set, eat nothing but _oil_, consequently must melt before a _hard fire_. I get awkward in my academic habiliments for want of practice. Got up in a window to hear the oratorio at St. Mary's, popped down in the middle of the _Messiah_, tore a _woeful_ rent in the back of my best black silk gown, and damaged an egregious pair of breeches. Mem.--never tumbled from a church window during service. Adieu, dear ----! do not remember me to any body:--to _forget_ and be forgotten by the people of Southwell is all I aspire to."