368 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 



stretches ' from Freshwater Gate to the Needles; the 

 other along the spine of the island from Freshwater 

 Gate to Carisbrook, past ancient Barrows, with the 

 Solent on the one side and the ocean on the other. 

 From Carisbrook it was an easy walk to Cowes, whence 

 steamers plied to Southampton. Returning from the 

 island on the occasion now referred to, I chose this 

 latter route, and on reaching the railway-station at 

 Southampton, went straight to the bookstall to pick up 

 a copy of the Times. On opening the paper I was 

 stunned. Before me stood in prominent letters, " Sudden 

 death of Mrs. Carlyle." I sped to London, and on my 

 writing-table found a note from Miss Jewsbury. Carlyle 

 had arived in Chelsea. " For Heaven's sake," said my 

 correspondent, " come and see the old man ! he is utterly 

 heart-broken." In a few pathetic words Leslie Stephen 

 has told the story of her death : " Mrs. Carlyle had asked 

 some friends to tea on Saturday, April 21. She had 

 gone out for a drive with a little dog; she let it out 

 for a run, when a carriage knocked it down. She sprang 

 out and lifted it into the carriage. The carriage went 

 on, and presently she was found sitting with folded 

 arms in the carriage, dead." 



I drove forthwith to Chelsea. The door was opened 

 by Carlyle's old servant, Mrs. Warren, who informed me 

 that her master was in the garden. I joined him there, 

 and we immediately went upstairs together. It would 

 be idle, perhaps sacrilegious on my part, to attempt 

 any repetition of his language. In words, the flow of 

 which might be compared to a molten torrent, he re- 

 ferred to the early days of his wife and himself to 

 their struggles against poverty and obstruction; to her 

 valiant encouragement in hours of depression; to their 

 life on the moors, in Edinburgh, and in London how 

 lovingly and loyally she had made of herself a soft 



