*Hanged that day for the murder of Weare.
{†}¤An ant
It is just fifteen minutes after twelve. Thurtell is by this time a good way on his journey, baiting at Scorpion, perhaps. Ketch is bargaining for his cast coat and waistcoat; and the Jew demurs at first at three half-crowns, but on consideration that he may get somewhat by showing 'em in the town, finally closes. C. L.
Notes.
The danger of not adapting your method to your auditor is well illustrated by the beginning of Lamb's next letter to the same person:
“My dear sir,—That peevish letter of mine, which was meant to convey an apology for my incapacity to write, seems to have been taken by you in too serious a light,—it was only my way of telling you I had a severe cold.”
Lamb's letter is filled with about every figure of speech known to rhetoricians: It will be a useful exercise to pick them out.
Any person who does not have a well developed sense of humor will hardly see the force of the reference to Thurtell, the murderer. It is a whimsical way of indicating by a specific example how empty the writer's brain was, forcing him to reflect on such a subject in so trivial a manner.
Observe the occasional summing up of the meaning, curiously repeating exactly the same thing—“Did you ever have a very bad cold—?” “Did you ever have an obstinate cold—?” The very short sentences summarize the very long ones. The repetition is meant to give the impression of being clumsy and stupid. In describing harshness we use words that are harsh, in describing awkwardness we use words that are awkward, in describing brightness and lightness we use words that are bright and light, in the very words themselves giving a concrete illustration of what we mean.