Delaware gazette and state journal. (Wilmington, Del.) 1883-1902, 1892-09-22
THE caRLYL rs.
Mrs Richie Gives Charming Pen Pic
ture of Their Home Life.

Mrs. Richie Gives Charming Pen Pic
tnre of Their Home Life.
In Mrs (Anne Thackeray) Ritchie's
charming "reminiscences in the new
Macmillan" are found these paragraphs
concerning the Carlyles:
| In the dining-room stood that en-,
| chanting screen covered with pictures
drawings, prints, fashions, portrait,
without end, which my father liked SC
much; upstairs was the panellcd draw.
ing-room with its windows to the street
and the portrait of Oliver Cromwell
hanging opposite the windows. But
best of all there was Mrs. Carlyle her.
SELF living picture; Gainsborough
should have been alive to paint
her slim, bright, upright, welcom-
ing, in her place. She looked like
one Of the grand ladies our father
used sometimes to take us to call
upon. She used to be handsomely
dressed in velvet and point lace. She
sat there at leisure, and prepared for
conversation. She was not familiar but
cordial, dignified, and installed in her
corner of the sofa by one of the little
tables covered with nicknacks of silver
and mother-of- pearl.
Almost the first time we ever went to
see her we had walked to Chelsea
through the snow, and across those
lanes which have now become South
henslngton, and when we arrived, numb
and chilled and tired, we found in the
dining room below, standing before the
IRE, two delicious hot cups Of chocolate
all ready prepared for us, with saucers
placed upon the top. 81 thought We
would be frozen," said she, and the hot
chocolate became q sort of institution.
Again and again she sat by, benevolent
and spirited, experimenting our wintry
ieasts, inviting our condolences, confiding
IN us to certain degree.
she used to tell us many of the stories
which have since come into print. She
was never weary of discussing of
Carlyle" of his genius, his dyspepsia,
OF quoting his sayings. "If you wish
for quiet life" she used to say, "never
you marry dyspeptic man of genius"
l remember she used to tell us, when he
first grew beard, how all the time he
mad saved by ceasing to shave he spent
wandering about the house, and bemoan-
ing that which was amis in the universe.
As children We did not have much of
Carlyle's company; ii he came in and
sat down in the armchair, which was
ms on the opposite side to the sofa, we
immediately went away; but the sense
OF ms presence overhead in the study
distinctly added to our enjoyment while
he remained upstairs Mrs. Carlyle used
TO tell us OF her early life, of her love
for study Many of her admonitions
and friendly warnings have remained in
my memory. Once, lookingly express
sively at me with her dark eyes, she
began to speak of self-control." We have
all she SAID, "a great deal more power
over our minds than it is at all the fashion
to allow, and an infinity of resource
and ability to use it. There was time
in my own life" she said, "when felt
that unless strove against the feeling
with all my strength and might should
be crazed outright | passed through
that time safely; was able to fight il
out and not to let myself 60 People
can help themselves, that / am CON 3.
WINGED of, and that fact is not nearly
enough dwelt upon.n
One day we went there; we were no
longer children. l was grown Young
lady, keeping a diary at the time, in
which l find tine following record of a
brown paper parcel: "To Mrs. Carlyle's.
where we found Lady Stanley of
Alderley just leaving the room; then
Mrs. Carlyle, taking up the talk again,
Immediately began speaking enthusias.
tically about Adam Bede,' which had
just come out. She had written to the
author, she said; she had received CRATE
full messages from him in reply. She
said that Mr.. Carlyle quite declined
reading the book, and when she ex.
pressed hope that it might be sent to
her, What should he send it to YOU
for 2 he said. why shouldn't he send
it? she answered; he sent me the first
You are just like all weemcn,' said he.
(Mrs. Carlyle always says weemen).
You are always forming unreasonable
expectations
We were going away, for we heard
ring at the bell, which seemed to be.
token fresh visitors. Then the door
opened, and in came, not visitors, but
Charly, the maid, carrying an unmis.
taxable publishers brown paper parcel.
Mr.. Carlyle, who had followed her in,
came and sat down upon the sofa. Mrs,
Carlyle exclaimed and started forward.
We opened our eyes in delighted par
tisanship; the string was cut, and there
sure enough were the three orange vol
umes Of "Adam Bede," sent with the
authors compliments.