JWC TO JOHN A. CARLYLE; 14 July 1849; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18490714-JWC-JAC-01; CL 24: 119-121
JWC TO JOHN A. CARLYLE
Rawdon [14 July 1849]
My dear John
Nothing like a letter from me today yet; but here is topographical matter enough from Mr Carlyle who is making me his human note-book for the moment—take care of these letters—for he wishes them again for his own use—
I left Nottingham on Thursday morning according to programme with the dear Neubergs whom I am deeply in love with—the man on my own account and the little sister on yours (I am quite serious and determined—you must marry her—she will make you an excellent wife—would like it extremely—and I would like to have her for a sister-in-law) Well I left with them in the train which goes by Derby and Mattlock—as far as Rowsley where there is a beautiful “little rural Inn”—close by the railway station—where we deposited our carpet bags—then we went in an open carriage to Chatsworth and saw all the house and grounds—a thing very pleasant to have seen—we returned to Rowsley for “a rough tea” and slept there or to speak accurately so far as myself was concerned—lay in bed there broad awake till six in the morning—walked before breakfast apparently gathering strength and appetite from having slept almost none since I left London—then off in the train again to Matlock where the Neubergs parted from me to return to Nottingham and I proceeded to Barnsley dined and had tea with Mrs Newton who told me that “if she were going to fall in love with any man besides her own husband it would be with you”—that she “never in fact saw any one she thought so good and liked so much to be with”—and then she reproached me with never having sent her the ugly little box you turned— I promised she should have it on my return; but I think you might bestow your other work on her with more fitness I dont think you have given a Dante to any one that values it more than this woman would do— She drove me back to the station—three miles—in a gig—a capital “whip”—she is!—(Nodes is in London) and again at eight at night I was squealing towards Leeds—where William Edward was to meet me—but with his usual impatient impetuosity he sprang into the carriage beside me at Normanton!1 to my infinite surprise— At Apperly Bridge the gig awaited us and also for Nicol the astronomical man2 who has slept here—he is water-curing at Benrydden3—a tiresome man now happily gone— William Edward is at Bradford for two hours and I must unpack my trunk and get out CLEAN shift of all things before he comes back—my portmanteau had to lie all night at the station and I have not had access to it these three days!
Love to all at Scotsbrig this is almost a letter tho professing to be none Tell me what you will do about Rosette Neuberg—she cried when I came away and I know that half the tears were for you