Literary by-paths in old England . f pity and humanity as they had never beenbefore. Nowhere can I recollect of myself suchpious musings, communings silent and sponta-neous with fact and nature, as in those poor An-294 IN OLD ENGLAND nandale localities. The sound of the Kirk-bellonce or twice on Sunday mornings (from Hod-dam Kirk, about a mile on the plains below me)was strangely touching, like the departing voiceof eighteen hundred years. The abrupt termination of Carlyles tenancy ofHoddam Hill coincided with the expiration ofhis fathers leaseof Mainhill; andthere had to bea double
Literary by-paths in old England . f pity and humanity as they had never beenbefore. Nowhere can I recollect of myself suchpious musings, communings silent and sponta-neous with fact and nature, as in those poor An-294 IN OLD ENGLAND nandale localities. The sound of the Kirk-bellonce or twice on Sunday mornings (from Hod-dam Kirk, about a mile on the plains below me)was strangely touching, like the departing voiceof eighteen hundred years. The abrupt termination of Carlyles tenancy ofHoddam Hill coincided with the expiration ofhis fathers leaseof Mainhill; andthere had to bea double more therewas diligentsearching throughthe countrysidefor a desirablefarm — rewarded at length by the discovery of Scotsbrig, which wasto remain the family home for the rest of Carlyleslife. Scotsbrig is so closely interwoven with thehistory of his books that his word-pictures of theplace, both in anticipation and realisation, deserveto be added to that provided by the camera. Inanticipation he wrote to his brother John: —. Scotsbrig By dint of unbounded higgling, and the mostconsummate diplomacy, the point was achieved 295 LITERARY BY-PATHS to complete satisfaction of the two husbandmen[Carlyles father and Alick] ; and Scotsbrig, freeof various clogs and claims, which they arguedaway, obtained for a rent of £190 (cheap as theyreckon it), in the nice of many competitors. . .The people are also to repair the house effectu-ally, to floor it anew, put bun-doors on it, newwindows, and so forth ; and it seems it is anexcellent shell of a house already. . Ourmother declares that there is plenty of bothpeats and water; others think the farm is thebest in Middlebie parishin ; our father seemsto have renewed his youth even as the eaglesage. Two months later, Carlyle wrote to Johnagain, this time in realisation: We are all gotover with whole bones to this new country ; andevery soul of us, our mother to begin with, muchin love with it. The house is in bad order; butwe hope to ha
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