candlestick

1850


The Collected Letters, Volume 25


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TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 29 January 1850; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18500129-TC-JWC-01; CL 25: 12-14


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE

The Grange 29 jany / 1850—

My dear Jeannie,

I got along yesterday without accident; was in time, and not much more, at all my stations; and arrived here, conducted by the big Humbug Coachman, safely, soon after 2 o'clock. I found the Austins, Mr & Mrs,1 just about going,—very kind, both man and frau asking after you, inviting me to take Weybridge on the road; talking about German revolutions &c &c:—I think we must really go out thither some day. Cockerell too was here, with one of his sons grown a big gawky conceited lad;2 they went in the evening: and after them there remained, and remains, no stranger except Milnes, and myself. Milnes had a tumble from a horse about a week ago, and has gone about in dressing-gown, with arm in sling, ever since; and could not leave at the time he counted on.— I had an excellent gallop, with the Cockls and Lord An,3 yesterday afternoon; a quiet enough evening;—slept terribly ill (in my oldroom up stairs, which had been appointed me as the warmest); and am here, at present (12½ o'clock) quite solitary in this big drawing room; waiting, over French Reviews &c, to do another bit of riding, dine at 5, and so accomplish another quite idle day. Lady An seems very cheerful, quieter than usual; and is busy in all directions packing today. For the establisht breaks up altogether; that is to say, we all go to Town on Thursday (the day after tomorrow)4 on which day you will have me at dinner I hope: the Ashburtons are to return in some two days, and he is to go and come; but without more visitors here. Being bound for home on Thursday I need not write much, or indeed hardly at all beyond that announcement: you will get all news from me, if you like, when I return. Of your own news I hope to hear something tomorrow, if you will be so kind to me.

A gentn in the rail-carriage yesterday read out from the Times, an announcement that Lord Jeffrey in Edinburgh was just dead.5 Alas, alas: it came by telegraph; there is no room to doubt: our poor little Jeffrey is no more! I know not when I have got such a stroke out of a Newspaper.6—— Good be with you, my dearest little woman, tho' you are not good to me just now, you cannot estrange me from you. Try to sleep well.— Ever yours T. Carlyle