ined in pencil or pen on gray paper, and
sparsely touched with body colour, in direct imitation of the Prout
lithographs. Prout's original coloured sketches he had seen, no doubt,
in the exhibition; but he does not seem to have thought of imitating
them, for his work in this kind was all intended to be for illustration
and not for framing. The "Italy" vignettes likewise, with all their
inspiration, suggested to him only pen-etching; he was hardly conscious
that somewhere there existed the tiny, coloured pictures that Turner had
made for the engraver. Still, now that he could draw really well, his
father, who painted in water-colours himself, complied with the demand
for better teaching than Runciman's, went straight to the President of
the Old Water-Colour Society, and engaged him for the usual course of
half a dozen lessons at a guinea a piece. Copley Fielding could draw
mountains as nobody else but Turner could, in water-colour; he had
enough mystery and poetry to interest the younger Ruskin, and enough
resemblance to ordinary views of Nature to please the elder. So they
both went to Newman Street to his painting-room, and John worked through
the course, and a few extra lessons, but, after all, found Fielding's
art was not what he wanted. Some sketches exist, showing the influence
of the spongy style; but his characteristic way of work remained for him
to devise for himself.

At the Royal Academy Exhibition of 1836 Turner showed the first striking
examples of his later style in "Juliet and her Nurse," "Mercury and
Argus," and "Rome from Mount Aventine." The strange idealism, the
unusualness, the mystery, of these pictures, united with evidence of
intense significance and subtle observation, appealed to young Ruskin as
it appealed to few other spectators. Public opinion regretted this
change in its old favourite, the draughtsman of Oxford colleges, the
painter of shipwrecks and castles. And _Blackwood's Magazine_, which the
Ruskins, as Edinburgh people and admirers of Christopher North, read
with respect, spoke about Turner, in a review of the picture-season,
with that freedom of speech which Scotch reviewers claim as a heritage
from the days of Jeffrey. Young Ruskin at once dashed off an answer.

The critic had found that Turner was "out of nature"; Ruskin tried to
show that the pictures were full of facts, but treated with poetical
license. The critic pronounced Turner's colour bad, his execution
neglected, and his