TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 17 August 1850; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18500817-TC-JWC-01; CL 25: 159-160
TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE
Boverton, 17 Augt, 1850—
Nothing today my Dear, but a twig of heath, whh in the desperate hurry of yesterday I forgot! I plucked it for you on the heights of “Dowlais Mine,”1 the crown of Merthyr Tydvil, the only kind of memorial I cd discover there; take it, pray, and be good to it till next Letter come; after which I bid you cast it into the oven.
The Post with your Letter, I expect, is just at hand; I will at least tell you I have got it, tho' to read it may be too much of a hurry before sealing. I have had to write to John this morning; to George Johnston (at Glos'ter) in intimation of my journey: and thus the time, till Noon is striking, has passed. Our post arrangts, like some others, are not good here.
Yesterday I did not ride at all: I lay dozing about on the sofa, or garden chairs, with a dull soporific Book; rushed off towards the sea about 4 o'clock, and that, with a little walk after tea, was all I did. Last night has been (considering a small globule I swallowed) not ill at all. Sleep from 12 to 6; then, with a pillow laid over my ear, patient waking or even dozing under the living influences feathery and other. I feel not worse but decidedly better since coming hither: but sleep, once for all, is a thing I need not look to have in a handsome fashion under present circumstances.— Poor Rd looks 'based and black,2 sad at once and sulky, at the announcement that I will keep my time, and go about Thursday first. No help for it. Go, I clearly should, and will,—and hardly return soon, I shd think. There are depths of human dulness which Nature herself, tho' bribed by sea-bathing, irresistably impels us to avoid!— No Post yet:—well, I can only hope all will be right; and again and again bid you take care of yourself, and be brave, and write to me. Adieu, Dearest; God bless thee ever.