TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE; 11 December 1851; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18511211-TC-JWC-01; CL 26: 266-267
TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE
Chelsea, 11 decr, 1851—
My poor little Dear,—These surely are but indifferent news! I had no tidings yesterday till night,—Lady A's Note, “accidentally delaid,” did not arrive till then; so the image of your gloomy day only attended me from tea-time. This morning I perceive it was even worse than my imagination. “Excellently well let alone” indeed: what a day! But happily it is somewhat over; and I will hope this excellt weather (for really it is quite brilliant here) may do you good, and have set you firmly on your feet before I come. That hope of Lady S's maid, tho' but small, in case of another inroad, is something,— For the rest, continue your good function; and remember always “Blessed are the peace-makers,”1—worthy they that, in this world, can hold their tongue!
I am to come on Saturday2 “along with Ld Ashn—I do not yet know his hour: but have taken means to learn it and conform to it. I have written an immense Letter to Jack about Craigenputtoch matters, this morning, besides some six others (less or not at all on things of my own),—and hasten as I may there will be no reading for me this forenoon; hardly can I ready for the Horse, witht great energy! Eheu, eheu!—
Yesterday I went walking; attempted to call on the Warburtons, but couldn't find the place! Perhaps I will try on horseback today again.— Nero is out with the Postman these two hours or more; this being weather for a second walk to a judicious little dog!— No more, Dearest: take care of yourself. I will write a word tomorrow to say at what hour if I can. Yours ever affectionate
Thomas Erskine has come in, quite cut short my ride; and thrown me into the murk of the evening! I could not put him away.— Mrs Patterson, it appears, is better today. A bad bronchitis, like to choke and kill her.
And, alas, alas, since he went out, Anne comes up to me with news whh the milkman has given her, that poor Freeman the Cooper was taken ill last night, very ill, and this morning at 11 is dead. Poor creature; poor creatures all!— —