ELIA’S TAIL
[Sidenote:  J.B.]

When I first knew Charles Lamb, I ventured, one evening, to say something that I intended should pass for wit.  “Ha! very well; very well, indeed!” said he.  “Ben Jonson has said worse things” (I brightened up, but he went stammering on to the end of the sentence)—­“and—­and—­and better!” A pinch of snuff concluded this compliment, which put a stop to my wit for the evening.  I related the thing to Hazlitt, afterwards, who laughed.  “Aye,” said he, “you are never sure of him till he gets to the end.  His jokes would be the sharpest things in the world, but that they are blunted by his good-nature.  He wants malice—­which is a pity.”  “But,” said I, “his words at first seemed so—­” “Oh! as for that,” replied Hazlitt, “his sayings are generally like women’s letters:  all the pith is in the postscript.”

CHARLES AND HIS SISTER
[Sidenote:  Mrs. Balmanno]

Miss Lamb, although many years older than her brother, by no means looked so, but presented the pleasant appearance of a mild, rather stout, and comely maiden lady of middle age.  Dressed with quaker-like simplicity in dove-coloured silk, with a transparent kerchief of snow-white muslin folded across her bosom, she at once prepossessed the beholder in her favour by an aspect of serenity and peace.  Her manners were very quiet and gentle, and her voice low.  She smiled frequently, but seldom laughed, partaking of the courtesies and hospitalities of her merry host and hostess with all the cheerfulness and grace of a most mild and kindly nature.

Her behaviour to her brother was like that of an admiring disciple; her eyes seldom absent from his face.  Even when apparently engrossed in conversation with others, she would, by supplying some word for which he was at a loss, even when talking in a distant part of the room, show how closely her mind waited upon his.  Mr. Lamb was in high spirits, sauntering about the room, with his hands crossed behind his back, conversing by fits and starts with those most familiarly known to him, but evidently mentally acknowledging Miss Kelly to be the rara avis of his thoughts, by the great attention he paid to every word she uttered.  Truly pleasant it must have been to her, even though accustomed to see people listen breathless with admiration while she spoke, to find her words have so much charm for such a man as Charles Lamb.

He appeared to enjoy himself greatly, much to the gratification of Mrs. Hood, who often interchanged happy glances with Miss Lamb, who nodded approvingly.  He spoke much—­with emphasis and hurry of words, sorely impeded by the stammering utterance which in him was not unattractive.  Miss Kelly (charming, natural Miss Kelly, who has drawn from her audiences more heart-felt tears and smiles than perhaps any other English actress), with quiet good-humour listened and laughed at the witty sallies of her host and his gifted friend, seeming as little an actress