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Cornwall, Barry, [pseud.], 1787-1874

"Charles Lamb"

They came upon the world by surprise; scarcely any one at that
time being aware that a fine genius and humorist existed, within the dull
shades of London, whose quality very few of the critics had assayed, and
none of them had commended. He was thus thrown (waif-like) amongst the
great body of the people; was at once estimated, and soon rose into
renown.
Persons who had been in the habit of traversing Covent Garden at that time
(seven and forty years ago) might, by extending their walk a few yards
into Russell Street, have noted a small, spare man, clothed in black, who
went out every morning and returned every afternoon, as regularly as the
hands of the clock moved towards certain hours. You could not mistake him.
He was somewhat stiff in his manner, and almost clerical in dress; which
indicated much wear. He had a long, melancholy face, with keen,
penetrating eyes; and he walked, with a short, resolute step, city-wards.
He looked no one in the face for more than a moment, yet contrived to see
everything as he went on. No one who ever studied the human features could
pass him by without recollecting his countenance: it was full of
sensibility, and it came upon you like a new thought, which you could not
help dwelling upon afterwards; it gave rise to meditation, and did you
good.


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