JWC TO THOMAS CARLYLE ; 25 September 1847; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18470925-JWC-TC-01; CL 22: 92
JWC TO THOMAS CARLYLE
Saturday [25 September 1847]
Certainly, Dear, that “cottage” where letters are left is one thing which the Devil might with great propriety be requested to “fly away with.” As if you did not write seldom enough without their keeping back your letters!— But it is not the only guilty post-office— Here is a letter for you—from Emerson1—I think—which you ought to have received that Sunday morning at Buxton, and which Postie has recovered with infinite pains. The fact of its existence was revealed to me in this accidental manner— Mrs Piper said one day she would have done so & so only that when she wrote to ask me about it I had sent no answer—I replied that no letter from her had ever reached me—that was strange, she said, for her Husband sealed her letter into the shilling one that was forwarded to the post office at Buxton— I said to the best of my recollection you got no letter at Buxton—and certainly could not have got that one or I would have got the enclosure— When she told her Husband he affirmed that a shilling-letter—American he thought—had been forwarded to Buxton in time to reach you there on the sunday morning—and after much writing and signing of papers the enclosed has been looked up—
As for the buttons I expect to realize them for this post.—by going myself to the shop in the Kings road in an Omnibus— Already yesterday I went a little way in an Omnibus, and was not the worse for it—nor the better either I think.
I was just thinking last night how I could word an excuse to Lady Harriet when there came a kind note from her2 which again tuned me up to the going-pitch. So I wrote instead that I would join her at Stanhope street on Monday I wish the coachman would have permitted the carriage to come this way—which I dare say is not two yards about!
The painting undertaken for will be finished on Monday I fancy—and the rest must await a more convenient season. I can stand no more of it at present— Oh such mad work Chambers is making of his front it will hardly be possible to live beside it