"Lor'!" was all George's comment, but his face spoke volumes.

We stayed with our old comrades until the last moment arrived; and then, in company with Gilgai Charlie and the giant Little Bob, who had joined us on the wharf, went and dined. These two worthies were, as they said, already "full up with the city," and when Blackwood's Magazine.

the western express left that night it had on board four men and four cycles booked through for Cunnamulla en route to the opal-fields. Twenty-eight hours afterwards we landed at the western terminus, and taking advantage of the full moon and the hard camel-pads leading farther west, we made sixty miles before morning.

The following incidents in the everyday life of Thomas Carlyle and his wife, although trivial in themselves, may be of interest, as they are unknown to the general public, and narrated by those whose daily occupations brought them within the domestic sphere of the Carlyles, both in the country and in London.

Near to the village of Thornhill, in Dumfriesshire, is the farm-house of Templand, to which Jane Welch came with her mother, and where she lived until marriage joined her bright and clever personality to the rugged genius in the shadow of whose fame it was thereafter her fate to live and be known only as the wife of Thomas Carlyle. During her mother's life they several times visited Templand, and there occurred two little incidents which show that Carlyle, as a rule undemonstrative, had a very strong affection for his wife. In those days the only mode of conveyance was by stagecoach, which passed through to Glasgow by the main road, and as the distance was too far for Mrs Carlyle to walk, an ordinary Scotch farm cart was sent to meet the coach at the nearest point. To save his wife from its springless shaking and jolting, Carlyle

took her on his knee, but when they came to the steep, rough hill leading up to Templand, finding that even this did not protect her from feeling the sudden jolts of the lumbering wheels, he stepped over onto the shaft, and with her still in his arms, seated himself on the haunches of the steady-going cart-horse, thus holding her in comparative ease until they reached the house. The other incident was later on, when Carlyle drove himself down in a gig, and Mrs. Carlyle, who was in the house, hearing the sound of wheels, ran out to meet and welcome him. He was so occupied in bending down over the side to kiss her that he forgot to guide the horse, with the consequence that the gig-wheel grazed on a stone and the whole affair was overturned, though happily with no ill-effects.

About a mile from Templand, on a knoll overlooking the River Nith and a lovely stretch of valley and hillside, is Holmhill, at that time the residence of Dr. and Mrs. Russell, the doctor having retired from practice and occupying the position of banker in Thornhill. Both he and his wife were Mrs. Carlyle's great and constant friends, and she often paid them lengthened visits, her husband also coming at

intervals, but never remaining long at a time, as he usually went down to stay with his sister, Mrs. Aiken, who lived near Dumfries. Mrs. Carlyle was very delicate, often complaining of pain in her side, and the doctor and his wife were extremely kind and attentive in all things, humor. ing her moods and giving way to her wishes. Dr. Russell would sometimes link his arm in hers and walk with her up and down a small corridor in the house for half an hour at a time. She was also extremely nervous, and during her visits the cocks were all shut away in an outhouse, so that their crowing might not be heard, and all the clocks prevented from striking, as she could not bear these sounds. Every fortnight she was weighed, wearing the same dress each time, so that there should be no difference in the weight of clothing, and in one visit of ten weeks she gained twelve pounds to her own and the Russells' great satisfaction, the peace, rest and quietness of the country evidently suiting her better than the more active and busy life she led in London. Her morning headdress was a white net cap, coming to a point in front and drawn in behind under the hair, this being changed in the afternoon for a small piece of lace resting lightly on her head, without any edging or trimming, a very frivolous and unimportant affair compared to the large and extremely unbecoming style of cap then considered the correct wear for every married woman, whether young or old, thus even in this small detail showing herself of an original mind untrammelled by convention.

Although Templand was by this time in the hands of strangers, she never failed to pay at least one visit there each time she stayed at Holmhill, usually bringing away a flower as a little souvenir, and on one occasion she took a nettle and a thistle to plant in her garden, saying she was sure these

were the only things that would grow in London. She could say very sarcastic things when in the mood, even at the expense of those she was most friendly with, and also delighted in bestowing appropriate nicknames not always considered as compliments by the recipients, who, hearing of them, and not understanding the cleverness of the application, failed to see its sense. One day, seeing the cook, a very tall woman with well-marked features and dignified aspect, going about some work outside, she said to Mrs. Russell: "Do you know, Kate reminds me of nothing so much as Mrs. Siddons's Lady Macbeth," and on being told this, Kate indignantly exclaimed, "Leddy Macbeth! Hoots! she maun surely see something gey deevilish or fiend-like aboot me tae liken me tae a wumman like yon!"

Among the household were Andrew Hunter and his wife (the before-mentioned "Kate"), who for many years filled the respective posts of coachman and cook with the Russells. Andrew is now an old man of eighty and his wife owns to seventy, but they are still living in Thornhill, in a small house kept in spotless order by the old lady herself, on seeing whom one can perceive the appropriateness of Mrs. Carlyle's remark anent her likeness to the great actress. Andrew (who this year was the recipient of the £5 prize, left by his old master, to be given yearly to some oldest working man in the village who continues to support himself) is nothing loth to tell his remembrances of the Carlyles, principally, however, of Mrs. Carlyle, whom he drove every day, wet or dry, during her visits to Holmhill. Dr. Russell kept a brougham and one horse, of which both he and his coachman were very careful, and the length and direction of Mrs. Carlyle's daily drives, in which she was nearly always accompanied by Mrs. Russell, were regulated by the doctor to occupy exactly three hours,

therefore it was necessary to go very slowly and walk the horse up all the small hills to spin out the time. One day Mrs. Russell observed, "As it is such a fine day, I think we might prolong our drive a little!" to which Mrs. Carlyle replied, "Na, na! you'll find Andrew has had his orders from the doctor, and he'll not go past them!" Neither did he. No consideration of weather seemed to affect her passion for driving, as, for instance, one very wet and stormy day, when the rain and wind were lashing and howling round the house, Andrew was told that Mrs. Carlyle wanted to drive. It was a terrible day, fit for neither man nor beast, and Andrew in his wrath was moved to propose that he would take the carriage round to the front door, and Mrs. Carlyle could sit in it there and get all the fresh air she needed, without either himself or his horse being exposed to the elements, but in spite of this ingenious suggestion the usual three hours had to be undertaken.

On another occasion when the weather was unpropitious, Dr. Russell, careful of his animal, said, "Andrew, the ladies are wanting to drive out in the afternoon, but it is such a bad day, you will just tell them the horse is lame." Later on, when he came back from the bank, the day had cleared a little, and coming out, he said, "Well, Andrew, the ladies are set upon going out to-day; I doubt you'll have to make ready." "But I tell't them the horse was lame!" quoth Andrew.

"Ay, and so did I," said the doctor, "but it was of no use. However, it's no lie, for she is always a bit stiff from spavin." So master and man salved their consciences for the attempted evasion.

Thomas Carlyle did no writing during his brief visits to Holmhill, preferring to spend the time on a rough wooden bench made specially for him by Andrew, where he read and medi

tated, and smoked long clay pipes, this seat not being, as one might have supposed, in sight of the beautiful sunlit view of hill and river, but placed with its back to all this, away down on the opposite side of the drive, in a spot overshadowed by trees, where the only prospect was a moss-covered stone wall and the trees in the plantation beyond.

If Mrs. Carlyle was not popular with the domestics, Carlyle was even less so, as he went about, bestowing no word or look on anyone, absent-minded and taciturn. Even Andrew, who saw most of him, being so much out of doors, who made the seat and carefully set a flagstone under it to keep his feet from the damp, and who often worked within a few yards of him for hours at a time, said, "Na, for a' the times he was here, Maister Carlyle never opened neither his mouth nor his hand tae me," an expression suggesting both closeness of speech and pocket!

Carlyle's objection to interruption sometimes carried his manners past the point of surliness to absolute rudeness. One one occasion he was seated in the carriage reading a book, when Mrs. Russell, who had just got out, met Dr. Grierson, a man now dead, but well known and remembered in Thornhill and the district for his kindly personality and his great interest in and knowledge of Natural History, a souvenir of which he left to the village in the interesting collection known as "Dr. Grierson's Museum." He was very anxious to speak to Carlyle, and took the opportunity of asking Mrs. Russell to introduce him. This she did, bringing him up to the carriage and saying, "Mr. Carlyle, this is Dr. Grierson, our local practitioner." Carlyle raised his eyes from his reading, ejaculated in an indescribable kind of a grunt, "Oh!" and immediately reburied himself in his book, an unlooked-for response both to his hostess and his would-be admirer.

At another time a duchess happened to call on Mrs. Russell, when he was staying with them, and expressed a desire to see Mr. Carlyle; so Mrs. Russell immediately went out, and finding him seated in his favorite spot asked him to come in for a few minutes. His exact reply is not vouched for, but its purport was quite clear; he absolutely declined to see her Grace, and his discomfited hostess had to return as best she might, with the ungracious refusal. However, once as he was driving up through Thornhill, he stood up in the carriage so that the people might see him, many having expressed a desire to catch a glimpse of him. He wore chamois leather slippers in the house, and what are called "Blucher" boots out of doors, these latter being always made for him by the same man, a bootmaker named Duncan, in Edinburgh; but on one occasion, something about his feet being not quite comfortable, he was heard to remark that "if they would hang two or three of these shoemakers it would teach the others to make their boots to fit a body's feet," showing that even a philosopher may be roused from his philosophy when the shoe pinches.

The maid who was with Mrs. Carlyle in London during the last year of her life, and who after her mistress's death stayed on at Cheyne Row until her own marriage, was a Scotchwoman, and Carlyle, who was very Scotch, and liked all Scotch things, approved of her in many ways, especially of her porridgemaking and oat cakes, which he called "illustrious cakes," and also for her punctuality, he being extremely punctual himself. The making of porridge and oat cakes was not among her duties, but she was proficient in the art, which Mrs. Carlyle's English cook either could not or would not learn, hence the following. Jessie was going to be married, and accordingly gave notice to leave, but the young man being prom

ised a more lucrative occupation in the future, they agreed to wait, and on this being made known to Mrs. Carlyle, she impulsively threw her arms round the maid's neck, and kissing her, exclaimed, "Thank God, I shall get my oat cakes yet!"

Mrs. Carlyle, never very strong, was less so during this year, and spent a greater part of the time on the sofa in the drawing-room, but was still very fond of company, both at home and abroad, and passionately fond of driving out. Mr. Carlyle, on the contrary, did not care in the least for society, or to be troubled by visitors, but so long as he was left alone was quite willing to let her do exactly as she pleased. He was coming very much to the front at that time, and people were anxious to make much of him, failing which, as he was very rarely to be seen, they turned their attentions to his wife, and her visitors and their carriages were continually in evidence at No. 5 Cheyne Row.

She was very impulsive in giving away things, saying, however, that if she did not receive so many presents she could not have given away so much. Among others, Lady Ashburton sent every week a hamper containing cream, eggs, and fresh vegetables, which would no doubt be very highly appreciated, as for those who have lived long in the country a taste for the London egg and so-called cream is difficult to acquire.

Neither of them read a newspaper; Dr. Russell sent them one regularly, which was promptly readdressed by Carlyle to Mrs. Aiken (his favorite sister "Jean"), with the addition of two strokes under the address, the explanation of these being that Carlyle, who hated writing to his relations, his time being so much occupied, took this means of communicating to his sister that all was well with them. Only once he forgot to put the strokes, and

the omission promptly brought a letter of inquiry as to the cause.

An ordinary day in Carlyle's life was somewhat as follows. He had no stated hour for rising, depending very much on what time he had gone to bed, so the breakfast hour varied between nine o'clock and eleven. He always had coffee for breakfast, and that and everything else must be at the boiling point or it was of no use; the kettle had to be brought boiling to the table, and the eggs in the hot water, so that he could see for himself that all really was as hot as he desired it. "If he could have got things hotter than boiling he would have liked it better," was Jessie's comment, and it is on record that Mrs. Carlyle, who often remonstrated with him for taking things too hot, suggested he might put a cinder in his mouth. Then to work, seated in an old-fashioned square armed chair with a hard horse-hair seat, before the quaint oblong writing-table with its two flaps for letting up or down according to the space required, and steadily work on until two o'clock, when he would go upstairs, find hot water ready to the minute, and after washing his hands and making some slight change in his dress, go out for a walk until four o'clock. On his return he went out into the small paved court at the back of the house, which led into the strip of garden, and here a small dose of brandy, filled up with cold water, was brought, and the tum. bler being placed on an ordinary kitchen chair beside him, he sat on the wall, reading a book and sipping his brandy and water until dinner, which would soon after be announced. His meals were very simple; he liked what he was to eat on his plate at once, and if the quantity had not quite agreed with him on any previous occasion, he would say, "Not quite so much to-day." When at Holmhill a certain quantity of potatoes were weighed for him each day,

his wife saying that if this was not done, he was SO absent-minded he would be sure to eat more than were good for him without being aware of it. He rarely took anything to drink, except a glass of port occasionally with his cheese; and after the dinner it was his habit to go upstairs to his room and lie down on the sofa, and there, with an old hat on, a handkerchief laid over his ear, and warmly tucked up in a thick plaid or rug, to sleep for an hour and a quarter exactly, at the end of which time Jessie was instructed to wake him. Going downstairs, he smoked a pipe (he never had any lack of either his favorite long clays or tobacco, being presented with stacks of the one and quantities of the other by admirers who were only too honored by the great man's acceptance of their gifts), then up to the drawing-room for tea and to read a book quietly, except on those evenings on which visitors (who had most probably previously written to Mrs. Carlyle praying for permission) happened to "drop in" for a cup of tea and a talk, the talk on these occasions soon resolving itself into one voice alone being heard, while the guests sat round like an audience at an interesting lecture, only an occasional answer of assent or murmur of admiration breaking the general attitude of strained attention. Then one by one they would flit away, taking their fine dresses and jewels on to other and more dazzling receptions, where, however, they could be sure of rousing both interest and jealousy by remarking that they had spent the earlier part of the evening with Thomas Carlyle.

The last guest gone, Carlyle, unable to continue his interrupted reading, would rise, and crying impatiently, "Another night spoiled; this must not happen again," take himself off for a long walk, perhaps not returning until after eleven o'clock, letting himself in with his latchkey, to find his porridge