Page 12, line 15.  C——.  Cambridge.  Dyer added a work on Privileges of the University if Cambridge to his History.

Page 12, line 8 from foot. Our friend M.’s. Basil Montagu, Q.C. (1770-1851), legal writer, philanthropist, editor of Bacon, and the friend of Wordsworth and Coleridge.  The Mrs. M. here referred to was Montagu’s third wife, a Mrs. Skepper.  It was she who was called by Edward Irving “the noble lady,” and to whom Carlyle addressed some early letters.  A.S. was Anne Skepper, afterwards Mrs. Bryan Waller Procter, a fascinating lady who lived to a great age and died as recently as 1888.  The Montagus then lived at 25 Bedford Square.

Page 13, line 17. Starts like a thing surprised. Here we have an interesting example of Lamb’s gift of fused quotation.  Wordsworth’s line in the “Ode on Intimations of Immortality,”

  Tremble like a guilty thing surprised,

and Shakespeare’s phrase in “Hamlet” (Act I., Scene 1, line 148),

  Started like a guilty thing,

were probably both in his mind as he wrote.

Page 13, line 24. Obtruded personal presence. In the London Magazine the following passage came here:—­

“D. commenced life, after a course of hard study in the ’House of pure Emanuel,’ as usher to a knavish fanatic schoolmaster at ***, at a salary of eight pounds per annum, with board and lodging.  Of this poor stipend, he never received above half in all the laborious years he served this man.  He tells a pleasant anecdote, that when poverty, staring out at his ragged knees, has sometimes compelled him, against the modesty of his nature, to hint at arrears, Dr. *** would take no immediate notice, but, after supper, when the school was called together to even-song, he would never fail to introduce some instructive homily against riches, and the corruption of the heart occasioned through the desire of them—­ending with ’Lord, keep thy servants, above all things from the heinous sin of avarice.  Having food and raiment, us therewithal be content.  Give me Agar’s wish,’—­and the like;—­which to the little auditory, sounded like a doctrine full of Christian prudence and simplicity,—­but to poor D. was a receipt in full for that quarter’s demands at least.

“And D. has been under-working for himself ever since;—­drudging at low rates for unappreciating booksellers,—­wasting his fine erudition in silent corrections of the classics, and in those unostentatious but solid services to learning, which commonly fall to the lot of laborious scholars, who have not the art to sell themselves to the best advantage.  He has published poems, which do not sell, because their character is inobtrusive like his own,—­and because he has been too much absorbed in ancient literature, to know what the popular mark in poetry is, even if he could have hit it.  And, therefore, his verses are properly, what he terms them, crotchets;