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man, dear child!
Her question, Do horses sit up late?’
Before taking leave of us he invited us to take tea with him on the following Sunday.
When the day arrived, my husband was kept at home by a severe headache, but Mr.Mann and Mrs. Mann, my sister, and myself drove out to Chelsea, where Mr. Carlyle resided at that time.
In receiving us he apologized for his wife, who was also suffering from headache and could not appear.
In her absence I was requested to pour tea. Our host partook of it copiously, in all the strength of the teapot.
As I filled and refilled his cup, I thought that his chronic dyspepsia was not to be wondered at. The repast was a simple one.
It consisted of a plate of toast and two small dishes of stewed fruit, which he offered us with the words, ‘Perhaps ye can eat some of this.
I never eat these things myself.’
The conversation was mostly a monologue.
Mr. Carlyle spoke with a strong Scotch accent, and his talk sounded to me like pages of his writings.
He had recently been annoyed by some movement tending to the disestablishment of the Scottish Church.
Apropos of this he said, ‘That auld Kirk of Scotland!
To think that a man like Johnny Graham should be able to wipe it out with a flirt of his pen!’
Charles Sumner was spoken of, and Mr. Carlyle said, ‘Oh yes; Mr. Sumner ’
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