be something, but would be repaid by increase of health. Mrs. Carlyle said, 'It is like buying a laying hen, and giving it to some deserving person. Accept it, dear!'

A still nearer friend had also been taking thought for his comfort. He was going to Scotland, and this year his wife was going with him. The faithful, thoughtful John had sent 30l. privately to his brother Alick at Ecclefechan, to provide a horse and gig, that Carlyle and she might drive about together as with the old clatch at Craigenputtock-a beautiful action on the part of John. They went north in the middle of July, going first to Nithsdale to stay with Mrs. Welsh at Templand. Mrs. Welsh, too, had been considering what she could do to gratify her son-in-law, and had invited his mother over from Scotsbrig to meet him. Mrs. Carlyle was not well at Templand, and could not much enjoy herself; but Carlyle was like a boy out of school. He and his old mother drove about in John's gig together, or wandered through the shrubberies, smoking their pipes together, like a pair of lovers-as indeed they were. Later on, when he grew impatient again, he called the life which he was leading sluggish ignoble solitude,' but it was as near an approach as he ever knew to what is meant by happiness. This summer nothing went wrong with him. When the Templand visit was over, he removed to Scotsbrig and there stayed, turning over his intended article. Of letters he wrote few of any interest-chiefly to his brother John, who was thinking of leaving Lady Clare, and of settling in London to be near Cheyne Row. Carlyle's advice to him shows curious self-knowledge.

6

To John Carlyle.

Scotsbrig: August 13, 1839.

If your lot brought you near me, it would, of course, be a blessing to me-to us both, I dare say; for, though we chaffer and argue a good deal-a good deal too much-yet surely there is good brotherly agreement between us. A brother is a great possession in this world—one of the greatest; yet it would be unwise to make great sacrifices of essentials for the advantage of being close together. Ah me! I am no man whom it is desirable to be too close to—an unhappy mortal—at least, with nerves that preappoint me to continual pain and loneliness, let me have what crowds of society like. To work is the sole use of living. But we will speculate no longer; above all, we will not complain.

The holiday lasted two months only. Wilhelm Meister' was now to be republished, and he was wanted at home. The railway had just been opened from Preston to London; and on this return journey he made his first experience of the new mode of locomotion.

To John Carlyle.

Chelsea: September 13, 1839. The whirl through the confused darkness, on those steam wings, was one of the strangest things I have experienced— hissing and dashing on, one knew not whither. We saw the gleam of towns in the distance-unknown towns. We went over the tops of houses-one town or village I saw clearly, with its chimney heads vainly stretching up towards usunder the stars; not under the clouds, but among them. Out of one vehicle into another, snorting, roaring we flew: the likest thing to a Faust's flight on the Devil's mantle; or as if some huge steam night-bird had flung you on its back, and was sweeping through unknown space with you, most probably towards London. At Birmingham, an excellent

breakfast, with deliberation to eat it, set us up surprisingly; and so, with the usual series of phenomena, we were safe landed at Euston Square, soon after one o'clock. We slept long and deep. It was a great surprise the first moment to find one did not waken at Scotsbrig. Wretched feelings of all sorts were holding carnival within me. The best I could do was to keep the door carefully shut on them. I sate dead silent all yesterday, working at Meister;' and now they are gone back to their caves again,

CHAPTER VII.

A.D. 1839-40. ET. 44-45.

Review of Carlyle by Sterling-Article on Chartism offered to Lockhart-Expanded into a book-Dinner in Dover Street-First sight of Dickens-Lectures on Heroes-Conception of Cromwell-Visit from Thirlwall-London Library-Impressions of TennysonReviews-Puseyism-Book to be written on Cromwell.

A PLEASANT surprise waited for Carlyle on his return to London-an article upon him by Sterling in the Westminster Review.' Sterling's admiration was steadily growing-admiration alike for his friend's intellect and character. It was the first public acknowledgment of Carlyle's magnitude' which had been made. He perhaps remembered that he had expressed some spleen at Sterling in the summer, and a little penitence may have been mixed with his gratitude.

To John Sterling.

Chelsea: September 29, 1839. Mill says it is the best thing you ever wrote; and, truly, so should I, if you had not shut my mouth. It is a thing all glaring and boiling like a furnace of molten metal : 1 a brave thing, nay a vast and headlong, full of generosity, passionate insight, lightning, extravagance, and Sterlingism— such an article as we have not read for some time past. It will be talked of; it will be admired, condemned, and create

1 Sterling's article is reprinted by Hare, vol. i. p. 252.

astonishment and give offence far and near. My friend, what a notion you have got of me! I discern certain natural features, the general outline of shape; but it is as one would in the Air Giant of the Hartz, huge as Opheneus, painted there as one finds by sunrise and early vapour-i.e. by Sterling's heart impinging on you between himself and the Westminster Review.' I do not thank you, for I know not whether such things are good; nay, whether they are not bad and poison to one; but I will still say, there has no man in these islands been so reviewed in my time. It is the most magnanimous eulogy I ever knew one man utter of another man, whom he knew face to face, and saw go grumbling about in coat and breeches, a poor concrete reality very offensive now and then. God help you, my man, with such a huge Brocken Spectre Chimæra, and a lot of cub chimæras sucking at her. I would not be in your shoes for something!

Sterling's appreciation, when read now, rather seems to fall short of the truth than to exceed it. But now is now, and then was then-and a man's heart beats when he learns, for the first time, that a brother man admires and loves him. If Carlyle was proud, he had no vanity, and he allowed no vanity to grow in him. He set himself to his article for Lockhart. He sent for Citoyenne, which had remained till now with Mr. Marshall.

I go out to ride daily (he reported on October 8), sometimes in the Park, sometimes over the river, or somewhere else into the country-sometimes I fall in with some other friend, also riding, and then it is quite cheerful to go trotting together through green lanes, from one open common, with its whin-bushes and high trees, to another. My horse is in the best order, and does seem to do me good. I will try it out, and see what good comes of it, dear though it be.