January-October 1859

The Collected Letters, Volume 35


TC TO JWC ; 12 September 1859; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18590912-TC-JWC-01; CL 35: 197-198


Scotsbrig, 12 Septr, 1859

Dear little Goody, you see I have still got no better stock of paper: “ye maun just excuse us the-day” for that and many other deficiencies. I hope much you have got safe across with your poor little Self and your big complexity of busss; and are safe, getting some repose,—some, one cannot look for much, or perfect, anywhere,—in the hospitable quarters you had in view. I should have been very much relieved to hear that you were doing better, after me and my botherations were withdrawn; and I partly expected some news this morning or yesterday, but not with much confidence. Pray send one word, now that you are got to land again. And do not forget my regards to your good Aunts (Elizth & Grace, I guess, are alone there);1 you may say with truth I remembered, and will remember, their beneficient announcement of a quiet sleeping-room for me; but was in too much haste to look in on this occasion.

The weather is changed here; and grown extremely pleasant,—this morning I have had a long silent saunter on the “fairy-brae,”2—slope whh hangs towards Middlebie, whh is all green at present (being drained and improved), and has a sward on it comparable to velvet or Turkey-Carpet, with the shady Scotsbrig Linn3 & beautiful clear burn singing audible, by way of hem to it. A very gentle kindly solitude, with plenteous memories hanging to it: such resting found the sole of unblest feet,4—“no better than it deserved!”5— — I have had a fair share of haggling with my bed (getting out from pits of soft feathers, & on to the solid flat of a mattrass,6 &c &c); and my sleep has not been of a shining quality;—yet not to complain of: would I could believe as much of poor yours in the interim. They are all as kind as kind can be; Jenny a most clever little trim lassie, tho’ it is a wae thing to see her left at these years (not yet 17) in charge of such a problem as all this! Jamie makes no moan; is willing to talk on common subjects; but, at heart I can discern, is full of affectionate remembrance, and silent sorrow of a dark enough character. Poor fellow, he bears all in a very practical manful manner. The young John I like well too; the young Jamie, with a spice of black-beard, wide-awake hat, and scarcely two words aday, whh however are always practical emphatic and veracious, is a very curious creature; whom I do not quite understand.

Yesterday John drove me to The Gill, bright windy Sunday; and there was meeting, as appointed: from whh came no hurt (in the prest state of the throat). I am to return & have my coat made one day soon. Adieu, Dearest. Write, I bid you! Yours T. Carlyle