and watch them into various stages of germination.[42] I want to study
the mode of root and blade development. And I am sure you two will
know best how to show it me.

[Footnote 42: "Proserpina,"]

* * * * *

BRANTWOOD, _30th December, 1883_.

I heard with extreme sorrow yesterday of your mischance, and with the
greater, that I felt the discomfort and alarm of it would be increased
to you--in their depressing power by a sense of unkindness to you on
my part in not having been to see you--nor even read the letter which
would have warned me of your accident. But you must remember that
Christmas is to me a most oppressive and harmful time--the friends of
the last thirty years of life all trying to give what they cannot
give--of pleasure, or receive what--from me, they can no more
receive--the younger ones especially thinking they can amuse me by
telling me of their happy times--which I am so mean as to envy and am
doubly distressed by the sense of my meanness in doing so.

And my only resource is the quiet of my own work, to which--these last
days--I have nearly given myself altogether. Yet I _had_ read your
letter as far as the place where you said you wanted one and then,
began to think what I should say--and "read no further"[43] that
day--and now here is this harm that had befallen you--which I trust,
nevertheless, is of no real consequence, and this one thing I must say
once for all, that whatever may be my feelings to you--you must
_never_ more let yourself imagine for an instant they can come of any
manner of offense? _That_ thought is real injustice to me. I have
never, and never can have, any other feeling towards you than that of
the deepest gratitude, respect, and affection--too sorrowfully
inexpressible and ineffectual--but never changing. I will drive, walk,
or row, over to see you on New Year's day--if I am fairly well--be the
weather what it will. I hope the bearer will bring me back a
comforting report as to the effects of your accident and that you will
never let yourself again be discomforted by mistrust of me, for I am
and shall ever be

Your faithful and loving servant,
JOHN RUSKIN.

[Footnote 43: Dante, "Inferno," v. 144.]

* * * * *

I never heard the like--my writing good! and just now!! If you only
saw the wretched notes on the back of lecture lea