The Collected Letters, Volume 4


TC TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE; 26 June 1827; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18270626-TC-AC-01; CL 4:234-235.


21 Comley Bank, Tuesday [26 June 1827].

My Dear Alick——You must not quarrel with this shortest of letters, for I am in the heat of a hurry; and this writing is to let you know that, for some time at least, no more writing will be needed.

I have got done with my Article, which is to be printed, I believe, this week; Jane and I are going out to Haddington, to arrange with Donaldson1 about moneys (at least that is my errand); and on Monday morning first (we come from Haddington in a day) we set out for Templand, and the Craig o' Putto.

I know not what sort of a shop you keep there; but Jane as well as I must come and see. Did they send you a bed up from Templand? If not, never mind; our stay (or rather her stay) must only be the shorter. Do not discompose yourselves about this invasion: who cannot take such as you have, should apply elsewhere. But, indeed, I doubt not, as in most other cases, everything will be far better than it seemed through the medium of timorous imagination. Where you are with those that love you, if you cannot put up with all mere wants of comfort, you must be a very odd fellow. …

But the cream of the matter is this. Can you send two horses (of almost any kind) over to Templand on Tuesday first (this day week)? If not send me one on Monday night, and I will come over with it myself next day. I know not whether Larry is with you, or how to do in the arrangement of the thing. But you will see how it stands, and to your direction I will leave it. One horse to Templand on Monday night to bring me; or two on Tuesday night to bring us both.— Templand is within three bowshots of the Cample bridge (farther down it is) on the road between Thornhill and Dumfries,—some furlong or two from it.2

Dear Alick, excuse this incoherence, for you have no idea how I am beaten about at present by haste. My kindest love to Mary; who, I know, ariejoices3 at the thought of seeing me again. Tell the good soul that her Sister is no Lioness, and will not eat her, but likes her very well.

Appoint our Uncle John4 to come up when you please, according to these “regulations.” We go to Scotsbrig after leaving you; perhaps we may come and go for a time. My soul is longing for the Country and Larry. I have written to Jack that I am coming. Adieu, my dear Brother!— Ever yours, T. Carlyle.