he omnibus, and had recognised it. This
seems to me one of the most indubitable proofs of genius which he ever
manifested. Happily, a passenger went out a little further on, and then
he got in.

My brother-in-law had gone two days before, so my arrival was most
well-timed. I found all at home right and tight; my maid seems to have
conducted herself quite handsomely in my absence; my best room looked
really inviting. A bust of Shelley (a present from Leigh Hunt), and a
fine print of Albert Durer, handsomely framed (also a present) had still
further ornamented it during my absence. I also found (for I wish to
tell you all my satisfaction) every grate in the house furnished with a
supply of coloured clippings, and the holes in the stair-carpet all
darned, so that it looks like new. They gave me tea and fried bacon, and
staved off my headache as well as might be. They were very kind to me,
but, on my life, everybody is kind to me, and to a degree that fills me
with admiration. I feel so strong a wish to make you all convinced how
very deeply I feel your kindness, and just the more I would say, the
less able I am to say anything.

God bless you all. Love to all, from the head of the house down to
Johnny.

Your affectionate,

JANE W. CARLYLE.

40. TO MRS. STIRLING, HILL STREET, EDINBURGH.

5 CHEYNE ROW, CHELSEA: October 21, 1859.

You dear nice woman! there you are! a bright cheering apparition to
surprise one on a foggy October morning, over one's breakfast--that most
trying institution for people who are 'nervous' and 'don't sleep!'

It (the photograph) made our breakfast this morning 'pass off,' like the
better sort of breakfasts in Deerbrook,[120] in which people seemed to
have come into the world chiefly to eat breakfast in every possible
variety of temper!

Blessed be the inventor of photography! I set him above even the
inventor of chloroform! It has given more positive pleasure to poor
suffering humanity than anything that has 'cast[121] up' in my time or
is like to--this art by which even the 'poor' can possess themselves of
tolerable likenesses of their absent dear ones. And mustn't it be acting
favourably on the morality of the country? I assure you I have often
gone into my own room, in the devil's own humour--ready to answer at
'things in general,' and some things in particular--and, my eyes resting
by chance on one of my photographs of long-ago places and people, a
crowd of sad, gentle thoughts has