The Collected Letters, Volume 26


TC TO MARGARET A. CARLYLE; 1 November 1851; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18511101-TC-MAC-01; CL 26: 223


Chelsea, 1 Novr, 1851—

My dear Mother,

It is a good while since I wrote any line to yourself; and, tho' it is about indifferent to what name my news be addressed, I think it shall be to you that I will send this half-sentence which is all I have time for in this hurried hour. A horse (of Anthony Sterling's) is just coming for me to ride on; which, as the sun is shining, I think will be both pleasant and profitable. Only there are now not 20 minutes to spare, and I am still in my dressinggown!—

The Dr's Letter came the same day mine went; we rejoiced to hear of your comparative welfare, and that our dear old Mother is still afoot in her frail way. Since then there has cold weather suddenly come; but now it is away again, and we will hope it did you no particular ill. You cannot bear either heat or cold; but I still think cold is the worse of the two for you.

Our Exhibition is now fairly over, and the streets are reduced to their usual condition of throng, which is sufficient surely without additions. Yesterday I saw in Piccadilly a huge railway engine getting home from the Exhibition: it stood aloft on a waggon drawn by 24 horses (three abreast), and I could not but wish it well away to places where it was more needed than here!

I go out every morning still before breakfast; which walk, I think, does me good: the last walk (so late at night) I have abandoned for the present. I on the whole do well enough,—if I could once fix on something to do. I read, read, in the meanwhile; and transact an immensity of confused reflexions, not very pleasant all of them!

Alas, alas, here is the horse come, ten minutes before its time! I must off instantly and give my affectionate good-day to all— I will stick in a letter or two, which John may read (if he likes), and then burn. My best blessings on you all.— Ever your son

T. Carlyle