October 1856-July 1857

The Collected Letters, Volume 32


TC TO JOHN A. CARLYLE ; 19 November 1856; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18561119-TC-JAC-01; CL 32: 31-32


Chelsea, 19 Novr, 1856

My dear Brother,

I got your Note this morning: thank you for all the little stock of news you send; a thing I was beginning to be in want of.

If you are not to be up here in a fortnight or three weeks (which I hardly expect, at least not that you will tie yourself to be up), then pray send me those mud-leathers at once; they are very needful for me here in this sad glarry weather. I got, three or four years ago, a pair of those Mackintosh Overalls1 (price 15/), which I wear every day, and find very comfortable: but the use of the mud-leathers is, that they keep these clean (which poor Anne has not much time for at present), and that they are cleaned in the stable by the groom (already paid for it), and their dirt never heard of. So pray let me have them, on the terms stated above. Jane says, a stone of oatmeal (one stone, of the kind we left last at Scotsbrig) may be added by way of lightening (pecuniarily) the carriage of the article,—only 3/6 after all;—and she can think of nothing farther.

I am enormously busy; and have, now occasionally, now at last, the feeling of getting something done,—which is pretty much my one consolation as matters go, but it is indeed a good one. My poor Clerk2 does his best; the willing mind, but not the skilful one as yet! My horse3 was bought by Farie; one of his chief feats: an extremely pretty and likely little gelding (15¼ hands high, 5 or 6 years old); bay-colour, strong, swift, quiet (to a degree): if there be nothing wrong with him, everybody reckons him very cheap at 50 guineas (not a penny of abatement), and he may do me a power of good. Farie is very proud of his achievement.

Poor Jane, now in the house for about five weeks, and getting next to no sleep (waking altogether two nights aweek or so, falling into broken sleep from 3 to 6 a.m. on the others), is far far from well; but I try to flatter myself she is something better within the last few days. She is very quiet and patient; cough is not much;—can still eat nearly to her old small degree.

Poor old Mrs Montagu is dead.4 Neuberg's Brother-in-law is dead,5—Rosette has fallen suddenly to Ng's charge; who is hunting for “employt in the State Paper Office,” not now having cash enough. My very next business (I am up aloft here, fireless, in my cape) is to write some “Testimonial” for him;6—therefore I end. Kind love to all.

Yours ever / T. Carlyle 7