August 1857-June 1858

The Collected Letters, Volume 33


TC TO JWC ; 26 August 1857; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18570826-TC-JWC-01; CL 33: 53-54


Chelsea Wedy 26 Augt 1857

Dear Goodykin,—This is only half a word to welcome thee to thy new home, poor little soul,—the last stage, I hope, in the way to thy real home, here waiting deprived of its Goody this long time! Erskine's Letter has just come (i.e. two hours ago); by and by I will write some ansr to it: so don't you bother that way, unless. “Frh done!” Alas, alas, Thomas knows little of it; living at home at ease, yonder, never thinking of the dangers of the seas!—1

The day is roasting-hot again; yet beautifully clear, a faint west-wind rippling in some of the tree tops. I awoke far too early, 5 a.m.; got at last to treacle-sleep again till after nine; and have not been out at all, except in the garden here, over my work. A new mass of Proofs lies all day on the bobby-slab;2 at whh I shudder more or less. I wanted to finish my sketch of “Chap. II” first; which is now got done. Then to the Proofs; but it will have to be by candle-light, and little done tonight, as Larkin is coming with a “map” &c. Things do go on; I always get thro' these Proofs, tho' they look so formidable.

Ld Goderich volunteers to come and ride (“farewell ride”) tomorrow evg. I had written to him to go privately and speak for M’Kenzie on that Afgharon hint of Major Davidson's to you.3 G. undertakes; but whether any Afghauns will be drilled in consequence is uncertain. What poor I cd do in it, was that.— Riding is not good at present; horse quite sick with the heat; wind not to be got, even what is of it, for hedges, houses; shade very essential even at 5 p.m.— It will not last so. And we must be thankful for the magnificent harvest we are getting in consequence. I went yesternight chiefly to the Vauxhall new Streets,4 shady, airy, beyond most, and well watered: by the river-side for a little way about Cubitt's5 place it is very nice. One knows not where to go;—but it is useful and indispensable, tho' druggish.

The Birds are merry; I gave them their green fodder this morning: I hear the cock's satisfaction with things in general, expressed musically at this moment. Nero has mostly lain beside me on the flags: back still whole, but sore tried in this heat. “Any harl of health he has”6 is now becoming lively again, 4 p.m. being just at hand. I wound up the Clock this morning; thinking to myself, Perhaps she will do it next time! Yet don't hurry at all. God bless thee.

T. Carlyle