The Collected Letters, Volume 27


TC TO MARGARET A. CARLYLE ; 3 December 1852; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18521203-TC-MAC-01; CL 27: 363-364


Chelsea, 3 decr, 1852—

My dear Mother,—I have been very ungrateful about those Gifts you sent me! In every Letter, written since, I have forgotten in my hurry to mention them, and no sooner was the Letter gone than I have remembered with regret. I therefore write a word specially today. Yes, beyond doubt, the excellent bar of Soap arrived; and I instantly took a bit of it, and fitted the same into my shaving-box, my stock being quite out for some time; and ever since, I have shaved and washed with it, remembering my dear Mother daily as I went on. The figs too were found of excellent quality; and Jane still occasionally roasts or stews a pair of them; but for us also they are not very wholesome,—and I think Mazzini &c will probably get the chief benefit of them,—and thank us and you at the same time,—being used to that kind of fruit. So all is right on that side; and now I have acknowledged my obligation (the least a man can do), and may return to my confused work again; for that was all my news today.

Here is a Note, received this morning from John, who I think will probably be with you almost as soon as it.— Tell him his two Boxes of Books went duly away yesterday (Thursday) by Pickford's Waggoner, who called for them in consequence of my note. Also that the Tobacco-pipe man's name is “Thos White”;1 but that I will write on the back of his own Note.

Yesterday I took a long walk (three hours fast walking, and rather more) into the country, Clapham and Streatham region,2—solitary in gutta percha shoes; and hope it has done me good.3 The Country is wet as a sponge, but the sky is now tight, and the weather fine. No more, dear Mother.— Your affectionate

T. Carlyle