The Collected Letters, Volume 13


TC TO ALEXANDER CARLYLE ; 19 October 1841; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18411019-TC-AC-01; CL 13: 282-283


Chelsea, 19 Octr, 1841.

My dear Alick,

Thanks for your good little Letter; which was very welcome here. I had one from John the same day; I sent yours on to him, for we had yet neither of us got any word; I have this morning had a second line from the Doctor: both these, as an apology for this scrap of my own, I will now inclose to you. There has a Letter also just come from Jean at Dumfries, reporting all well; and yesterday I had a very short note from Jenny herself, whom my Mother and Jamie had that same day been over to see. Nothing, it seems, is far wrong among you; for which I am very thankful.

Jamie's harvest must be a heavy handful to him at present; I wish he were handsomely thro' it, poor fellow! Today and yesterday the wind is brisk from the North, and I have got a fire lighted here: there was wet, however, in the night; and it continues still the worst weather I have ever seen here.— Wheat, it seems, after all the ‘grand harvest’ reported in the Newspapers, is ‘threshing very light’: no doubt of it; how can wheat prove ‘heavy’! It is a dismal-looking season for innumerable poor people in our Country, this that we are now entering on.

We find by a Letter lately that poor Lord Jeffrey has been dangerously ill, and still continues very weak; not likely to be in order again, I conjecture, all winter.1 He is in this Country, with his Daughter and Son-in-law; some twenty miles north of London.

I wrote something to Jamie about Alison's Carlisle Tobacco.2 Do not mind it; it will but confuse you,—unless there be a clear opportunity. In which case truly I suppose the real man to apply to were not Alison but the Whitehaven Tobacconist: his Tobacco as I used to get it fresh from you was better than Ewart's,—stronger and as genuine.

We are well enough; I still struggling to get ground broken in my work,3—or as Tom Garthwaite when lame, ‘to work out the streen [strain],4 and get along like a real worker!

May all go well with you, my dear Brother, for this world and for the next! Ah me!— But there is not another scrap of room or time.

Yours ever affectionately, /

T. Carlyle