TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 14 April 1846; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18460414-TC-JWC-01; CL 20: 166
TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE
Chelsea, Tuesday, 14 April 
How hast thou slept? Will there be no line this afternoon to tell? I fear not. Write a little line always!— — I am now going out to the Colnaghi department1 (Hang it here is Chorley come in!2 I must even take him with me— eheu [alas]!) I will seal at the London Library.
Nothing come this morning but that poor Note from poor Brandes, to whom I have written a word of farewell: poor creature, I am really sorry for him. I slept till after nine; a heavy nightmare sleep, due partly to the wild horse,—let the Devil have his due. No riding today: indeed at any rate the weather, grey all morning, has begun to spit.—— I meant to call for Bunsen; but now that Chorley is here, that will not do; I must write him the “scrape of a pen.” Quantis non egeo [How many things I do not need],—music concerts among other things!
I think I will leave the first volume of Richters Vult and Walt (the new Yankee Translation at Stanhope Street) if I go out tonight.3 The Translation is bad, the original none of the best: but it is by a man of wisdom, of sincerity, and real sympathy with this God's universe; the voice of whom is a real refreshment to one's poor heart as times go! Like water in Sahara to the thirsty man.— Beware of spotted Moseleys, of black George-Sands and such like, all of you!4
Above all things, sleep thou, and be good to me. Ever!