candlestick

July-December 1855


The Collected Letters, Volume 30


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TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 12 September 1855; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18550912-TC-JWC-01; CL 30: 61-62


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE

Addiscombe Farm, 12 Septr, 1855—

Well, you went away, in spite of all I could persuade; and left a wae enough man, if you found a happy Nero! You might have had such a bright sunny day here today; we might have had a great many things, truly: but you would not listen; you had said, and so it is.

My ride yesterday, and my much walking, might have done me more good, than it has yet visibly done. I did not sleep very well, tho' better than the former night. My ride was lonely, thro' the heart of woods, a great part of it; thro' stubble fields, and along remote hillsides most part of the rest, avoiding dust and the highways: this little horse does me a great deal of good. My pigeons were boiled (and the broth poured away, all but half-a-gill) instead of stewed: a baddish dinner, had there not been a pudding, thanks to the ever-assiduous Mrs Wenham. I got my bread too this morning; toasted a nook of it brown, and partly “enjoayed it” (as poor Grahame said) after a good round of walking thro' the dust. Dust is better than dew in these heavy still mornings. Neuberg's Letter (with a Dumfries Paper) were my only social condiments,—think what a “condiment” Neuberg's! However, he lets me keep the horse; he is really very helpful and kind. Lady A's Letter came by the 11 o'clock delivery.— I have a Letter to write to Jack; I found on the mantel-piece this morning a stray snip of paper, with that request and “poste restante” suggested on it: so I must be sharp and have done here.

I still think of being up on Saturday evg: indeed I have forbidden the Wenham fowl, and shall have no food unless I come back to you. Saturday's dinner may be of eggs, if need be.— Did you write to Browning by some channel or other?1 I sent a Note to Charles Darwin, “Down nr Bromley,”2 proposing a morning call.

—Adieu, dear thrawn little Jeannie mine. I must eat these grapes myself today, which have been mournfully reminding me of you. God bless you, now and always.

Your affectionate /

T. Carlyle