The Collected Letters, Volume 12


TC TO MARGARET A. CARLYLE ; 25 December 1840; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18401225-TC-MAC-01; CL 12: 374


Chelsea, 25 Decr, 1840—

My dear Mother,

I meant to write you a good long Letter today; but here is John Mill come in (at the wrong hour!), and I have no means of proceeding. Take one word to assure you that, in spite of the frost, we are all well.

A short Note came from Jack yesterday, and a Newspaper today: he seems to be going on perfectly well; driving over to Portsmouth &c: travelling, you know, from of old was his passion; and here surely he has enough of it! He promises to be here again before long.

Jane has staid in the house, close as a dormouse, these two weeks and more: she gets up every morning to make breakfast, does not try coughing at all yet; and on the whole is much better than in late winters.

I sent a Letter to Jamie; then one to Alick: I have been expecting some syllable of answer to that latter every day; in a day or two it will be too late for sending the Book: one word would be well worth two pence!— Not one of them all writes so punctually as my dear good Mother; her last little Note, like all her Notes, is a real little blessing to me. I sent it first to Jack to read; then to Jean. Jean herself has sent me nothing this long time. I begin to consider that perhaps she is making baby-clothes, poor little creature! Some of you send word about her.

Here is an express message from Mill, that he is come to walk &c! I must step up stairs and speak to the man.1

What becomes of you, dear Mother, in this bitter frost? For all sakes, spare not the coals; put on your flannel dress, put on all sorts of flannel to keep out the cold. Adieu dear Mother, for this day! I will write again very shortly. Good be with you all. Ever your affectionate

T. Carlyle