LAMB SAUCE

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXVI, 5 September 1934, Page 10

LAMB SAUCE

1 was going,” says Charles Lamb, from my house at Enfield to the India House one morning, when I met Coleridge on his way to pay me a visit. He was brimful of some new idea, and, in spite ol telling him that time was precious, he drew mo within the door of an unoccupied garden by the roadside, and there, sheltered from observation by a hedge of evergreens, he took me by the button of my coat, and, closing his eyes, commenced an eloquent discourse, waving his right hand gently as the musical words flowed in an unbroken stream from his lips. I listener! entranced; but the striking of a church clock recalled me to a sense of duty. I saw it was no use to attempt to break away; so, taking advantage of his absorption in his subject, and,( with my penknife, quietly severing the button from my coat, I decamped. Hours afterwards, in passing the same garden on my way home, 1 heard Coleridge’s voice, and, on looking in, there he was, with closed eves, the button in his fingers, and the right hand gracefully waving just ns when 1 left him. lie Had never missed me !’’