candlestick

1852


The Collected Letters, Volume 27


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TC TO JOHN A. CARLYLE ; 10 June 1852; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18520610-TC-JAC-01; CL 27: 142-143


TC TO JOHN A. CARLYLE

Chelsea, 10 june, 1852—

My dear Brother,

Yesterday I sent a poor little Book to my Mother, out of which you would at least see that we were well, and that your Note had come.

I am kept terribly busy, endeavouring to get a little reading and study accomplished amid such continual interruptions as occur here. Heigho! I have great difficulty even in gathering my materials, on this occasion (Books & Maps about Fk of Prussia), and for the maps my decay of eyes is a considerable loss. However, let us hold on.

Here at last is a hearty rain; near 40 hours now (for it still continues) of a pretty steady and some times quite heavy rain; which has at length wetted everything, lea-ground and the rest, to its heart's content. We have been in want of this, I suppose, for near six months past.

Poor Wm Glen, at Carstammon, we learn by a post Note, is dead,—died on friday morning last; poor heavy-laden soul. The Note is addressed in his Brother Archy's hand.1 In silence one has to make many mournful reflexions.— — Here with us, about the very end of last week, Roebuck was struck with palsy;2 we hear no distinct particulars, but the fact is certain, and there appears to be no hope (or fear) of the poor little soul's ever talking in Parlt more. Such are the tragedies of the world.— —

I have gathered some Books here (a Charles V.3 for Jean among others) which my Mother might perhaps get some good of: when you are sending a Box again— Or is not a Parcel, if it be of 6 lb, just as cheap to come by itself?

My influenza has rather (if anything) helped my digestive qualities; but there remains a little something in my throat, which warns me still to beware of damp and air-draughts.— Take care of my Mother. Tell Isabella I saw her Brother Robert one day, and with him the Australia Bell,4 who pleased me very much. What will Jamie do with his turnips!— Blessings to you all. T. Carlyle