t help it--to see the morning
light--Perhaps I go to sleep again--but never for long--then I do
really very good work in the mornings--but by the afternoon I'm quite
beaten and can do nothing but lie about in the wood.
However--the Prosody and Serpent lectures are just finishing off and
then I shall come to see you in the morning! while I am awake.
I went out before breakfast this morning, half asleep--and saw what I
thought was a red breasted woodpecker as big as a pigeon! Presently it
came down on the lawn and I made up my mind it was only a robin about
the size of a small partridge!
Can it have been a cross-bill?
* * * * *
BRANTWOOD.
I've had this cold five days now and it's worse than ever, and yet I
feel quite well in other respects, and the glorious sunshine is a
great joy to me. Also Prince Leopold's words,[41] seen to-day. Very
beautiful in themselves--and--I say it solemnly--just, more than ever
I read before of friend's sayings. It is strange--I had no conception
he saw so far into things or into _me_.
It is the greatest help that has ever been given me (in the view the
public will take of it).
[Footnote 41: In a speech delivered at the Mansion House, February 19,
1870, in support of the extension of university teaching. See Cook's
"Studies in Ruskin," p. 45.]
* * * * *
BRANTWOOD.
A heap half a foot high of unanswered letters pouring and tottering
across the table must pour and fall as they will, while I just say how
thankful I am for yours always, and how, to-day, I must leave letters,
books and all to work on that lovely Trientalis which Mary sent me. It
has a peculiar set of trine leaves which Linnaeus noticed and named it
for--modern botanists have no notion of it.
I think both Mary and you will be deeply interested in seeing it
worked out. I've been at it since seven o'clock.
Yes, if I had known you were in the garden! Alas--one never can know
what one wants to--I was all that afternoon seeing the blacksmith make
a chopper!
* * * * *
BROADLANDS, ROMSEY,
_15th October_ (1875).
I was very thankful for your letter this morning--having heard you
were unwell and being a little despondent myself--more than of
late--an Italian no
|