August 1843-March 1844

The Collected Letters, Volume 17


TC TO MARGARET A. CARLYLE ; 24 January 1844; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18440124-TC-MAC-01; CL 17: 248-249


Chelsea, Wednesday, 24 jany 1844

My dear Mother,

Today I must announce to you that the Box arrived last night; safe with all its contents; the cost of the whole carriage, porterage &c, from Assembly Street1 to Cheyne Row, was simply five shillings; cheap enough! The package was so excellent, the screw-nails so tight, having no available screw-driver, I was forced to act on the lid with wrenches, and tear it to pieces.— The fowls, two capital chuckas, were in perfect order: Jack's is gone to him this morning;—today I know he is to dine out; but it will keep bravely till tomorrow; as ours too will and must, for we too have a stranger coming tomorrow!2 Thanks for such good things. The union-dresses give the highest satisfaction; the socks are as pretty a set as I have seen for many a year.

And now, dear Mother, what is the extent of Hugh's Bill?3 You must forthwith let me know. Four unions (for you also I trust have got your two) and six pairs of socks: quick tell me! It is I that must and will pay it; so no words: it is quite impossible otherwise. Nay I employ Jean to ascertain for me; and know you will not be so unpolite as to deny.

It gives me great joy to hear of your being tolerably well,4 dear Mother: when you are tired of Dumfries, Scotsbrig will be the welcomer to you; it seems as if the Spring were going to come this year without any winter. Today our weather is quite bright.

Alick's Letter is very agreeable to us; a more cheery kind of Letter, and betokening more peace of heart than is usual for a long while past. His “class,” we think, must consist of his own bairns only?— I sent the Letter on to Jamie yesterday.

This morning I receive by Post a very agreeable gift from a Manchester Poetess and her Husband; a book inscribed to me in really an elegant and intelligent manner.5 My own poor Book is not forgotten; but will take a terrible deal of unseen work yet!

Adieu, dear Mother; I will write again before long. Ever Your affectionate T. Carlyle