gy illustrated in the pictures and sculptures, that his practical
manual became a sketch of art history, "St. Mark's Rest"--as a sort of
companion to "Mornings in Florence," which he had been working at during
his last visit to Italy. His intention was to supersede "Stones of
Venice" by a smaller book, giving more prominence to the ethical side of
history, which should illustrate Carpaccio as the most important figure
of the transition period, and do away with the exclusive Protestantism
of his earlier work.

He set himself to this task, with Tintoret's motto--_Sempre si fa il
mare maggiore_, and worked with feverish energy, recording his progress
in letters home.

"13 _Nov_.--I never was yet, in my life, in such a state of hopeless
confusion of letters, drawings, and work: chiefly because, of course,
when one is old, one's _done_ work seems all to tumble in upon one, and
want rearranging, and everything brings a thousand old as well as new
thoughts. My head seems less capable of accounts every year. I can't
_fix_ my mind on a sum in addition--it goes off, between seven and nine,
into a speculation on the seven deadly sins or the nine muses. My table
is heaped with unanswered letters,--MS. of four or five different books
at six or seven different parts of each,--sketches getting rubbed
out,--others getting smudged in,--parcels from Mr. Brown unopened,
parcels _for_ Mr. Moore unsent; my inkstand in one place,--too probably
upset,--my pen in another; my paper under a pile of books, and my last
carefully written note thrown into the waste-paper basket.

"3 _Dec_.--I'm having nasty foggy weather just now,--but it's better
than fog in London,--and I'm really resting a little, and trying not to
be so jealous of the flying days. I've a most _cumfy_ room [at the Grand
Hotel]--I've gone out of the very expensive one, and only pay twelve
francs a day; and I've two windows, one with open balcony and the other
covered in with glass. It spoils the look of the window dreadfully, but
gives me a view right away to Lido, and of the whole sunrise. Then the
bed is curtained off from rest of room like that [sketch of window and
room] with fine flourishing white and gold pillars--and the black place
is where one goes out of the room beside the bed.

"9 _Dec_.--I hope to send home a sketch or two which will show I'm not
quite losing my head yet.... I must show at Oxford some reason for my
staying so long in Venice."

Beside studies in t