The Collected Letters, Volume 26


TC TO JOHN A. CARLYLE; 5 September 1851; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18510905-TC-JAC-01; CL 26: 156-157


Scotsbrig, 5 Septr, 1851—

Dear Brother,

Your Note with its Enclosure, which again is the Correspondence of the day, has arrived. No word from Jane yet; probably your Note, and mine addressed yesterday to the care of Ireland, will bring something tomorrow. Among these Enclosures there is nothing,—nothing better than the old inanity and happily nothing worse. Alan Ker croaks out some hoarse word of thanks; superfluous rather. The “Private” is a double bit of Pasteboard printed; informing me and mankind generally that either the Day of Judgement or some such trifling event is just at hand,—according to Apocalypses and signs of the times: it seems too heavy for inserting. On the other hand, I do insert Espinasse's Note; which will create one melancholy smile in the mind. I have sent off the Nation and the Courier, the first Cr I have seen for some 5 weeks past. No direct news yet from Dumfries; but this is a sign that they know I am here.— From Espinasse's Note I collect another address, which I will use for Jane's sake if need be.

Our poor Mother took to bed yesterday before tea-time, complaining I think of some kind of local ailment she sometimes has; she was never very ill, only weak and uneasy; today she still continues in bed, reading &c, but looks a good deal fresher, and I think will rise soon. Poor body, she is now very frail indeed, and a little thing oversets her. Yet she is wonderfully clear still, and has a singular spirit of self help in her. She wishes to know if you have settled about Ak Hamilton's business,1 as do I.— The weather is cool and bright, with a slight shower or two in the night; beautiful brisk weather.

Daily every morning, setting out about 7, I walk rapidly after my bathe to Graham's Yett on Stockbridge Hill; hit the Yett with my switch, and turn rapidly home for an excellt breakfast,—and thoroughly idle day. I read Chalmers (good enough for me), and avoid speech when possible. My sleep, good for six hours, refuses hitherto to lengthen itself. I am weary, weary. So far as I can judge the Water-Cure has not done me the least good nor the least ill. Too stiff a subject for that!— Ever your affecte T. Carlyle

Jamie was to bring me a stick from Annan yesterday, but forgot: he remembered the big pipes however; and got home (by Stennybeck2) 7 whole out of 12. Have not you a sixpenny walking-stick somewhere here? T. Garthwaite comes on Monday to mend and make a little for me.