new effort. In June, 1888, he went with Mr. Arthur
Severn to Abbeville, and made his headquarters for nearly a month at the
Tete de Boeuf. Here he was arrested for sketching the fortifications and
examined at the police station, much to his amusement. At Abbeville,
too, he met Mr. Detmar Blow, a young architect, whom he asked to
accompany him to Italy. They stayed awhile at Paris,--drove, as in 1882,
over the Jura, and up to Chamouni, where Ruskin wrote the epilogue to
the reprint of "Modern Painters"; then, by Martigny and the Simplon,
they went to visit Mrs. and Miss Alexander at Bassano; and thence to
Venice. They returned by the St. Gothard, reaching Herne Hill early in
December.

But this journey did not, as it had been hoped, put him in possession of
his strength like the journey of 1882. Then, he had returned to public
life with new vigour; now, his best hours were hours of feebleness and
depression; and he came home to Brantwood in the last days of the year,
wearied to death, to wait for the end.

CHAPTER X

DATUR HORA QUIETI (1889-1900)

In the summer of 1889, at Seascale, on the Cumberland coast, Ruskin was
still busy upon "Praeterita." He had his task planned out to the finish:
in nine more chapters he meant to conclude his third volume with a
review of the leading memories of his life, down to the year 1875, when
the story was to close. Passages here and there were written, material
collected from old letters and journals, and the contents and titles of
the chapters arranged; but the intervals of strength had become fewer
and shorter, and at last, in spite of all his courage and energy, he was
brought face to face with the fact that his powers were ebbing away, and
that head and hand would do their work no more.

He could not finish "Praeterita"; but he could not leave it without
record of one companionship of his life, which was, it seemed, all that
was left to him of the old times and the old folks at home. And so,
setting aside the plans he had made, he devoted the last chapter, as his
forebodings told him it must be, to his cousin, Mrs. Arthur Severn, and
wrote the story of "Joanna's Care."

In his bedroom at Seascale, morning after morning, he still worked, or
tried to work, as he had been used to do on journeys farther afield in
brighter days. But now he seemed lost among the papers scattered on his
table; he could not fix his mind upon them, and turned from one subject
to another in des