We sat down by the fire, on either side of his little table. After examining the lovely Missal for some time, I took up the Woodstock, and to my surprise and delight I found it was Scott's original MS. The writing was beautifully clear and the corrections and interpolations very few. The Master broke silence for a minute to call my attention to a particular page

each page was dated.

'When he wrote that page Scott believed himself a wealthy man. When he wrote the following page next day he knew himself to be a ruined man. Can you find a trace of it in that clear, careful writing?'

And there was none. No more corrections than before - not a tremor in the script.

Each morning of my brief visit I was privileged in the same manner. Sometimes Mr. Ruskin would pass over to me the sheet of foolscap he had just finished writing and tell me to see if any correction was needed. Sometimes he would give me some proof reading to do, telling me to pay particular attention to the punctuation, as 'stops' always bothered him so.

At twelve o'clock he put away his writing and went out for a walk if it was fine, and, if not, to chop up firewood for the house.

The two young girls, Rosie and Peggy, and I were allowed to accompany him then, and also in his afternoon walk or boating on the lake.

More than one afternoon he took us all three to tea at the Waterhead

Hotel, the recently widowed proprietress of which was an old friend of his. 'I like her to have a nice big bill to send me at the quarter's end,' he explained one day. So we feasted gayly on buttered toast, raspberry jam, and real homemade cakes. None of the hotel visitors got a taste of the raspberry jam; the whole season's making was religiously put away for 'the Professor' and the visitors he brought.

I cannot remember now how the subject was brought up, but I recall an interesting conversation at one of the Waterhead teas. I think it was mainly addressed to Rosie, and it was about marriage.

'Remember this: there comes a time in every married life when one partner or the other is tempted to believe that some other person would have been a more congenial mate. There is only one course to pursue if two, or perhaps three, lives are not to be wrecked. You must resolutely turn your thoughts away from the idea. You must deliberately, and with the whole might of your soul, resolve to think only of the good points and the virtues of the mate you have chosen, and of the weak points in the character of the one you are tempted to prefer. It may be a hard struggle for a time, but in the end you will win your way to safe anchorage again. Never forget this, any of you.'

In one of our walks he stopped to gaze lovingly at a violet nestling in a bed of moss by the roadside.

'How marvelously one's capacity for assimilating beauty varies! There are days when a roadside violet holds more delight in its beauty than the soul can contain and there are other days when the whole majesty of the Alps will not suffice to fill the craving for beauty in the human heart.'

One day he mentioned something

which Turner had said to him once. Peggy opened her eyes in astonishment. 'Did you know Turner?' she asked.

'I knew Turner, Peggy, my dear, as well as a young, foolish, conceited man could know an old, wise, and modest man.'

Sometimes the Master dined with the family and sometimes alone in his study. This was when he thought there would be too much noise and talking for him. But after dinner he always joined his guests and the Severns in the drawing room for an hour or two. If he felt so inclined he would offer to read to us. And then we had a treat indeed! I have never heard reading to approach his in beauty. The voice, naturally one of rare charm, was modulated and inflected in harmony with his subject with the skill of a great artist. I had the great good fortune to hear him on several evenings. He read us several chapters from Scott's Monastery for one thing, and I well remember how vainly he struggled with the letter r in the verses beginning 'Merrily swim we, the moon shines bright.' No effort could prevent its becoming 'mewwily,' but it only added a piquancy to the charm of that lovely voice.

Another night he read us the whole of the story of 'Hansli,' which he had translated for Fors. There were several interpolations of his own, and when we came to one of these Mrs. Severn, sitting on the hearthrug against her husband's knee, would whisper in a stage aside, 'Arthur! Arthur! Are you listening? This is a bit of Ruskin's own! And I do so love Ruskin, don't you?' The Master would shake his head at her with a loving smile. 'Joanie! Joanie! Will you never grow up?' But he had to stop reading until he had finished laughing every time.

II

So the five happy days flew by and the sad Thursday came when my room was needed for another guest, and I must return to Kate's little house. But the Master softened the parting by promising to come to tea with me the next day and by telling me I should often be summoned to Brantwood for a few hours with him.

Alas! the next day brought a disappointment, for a number of people called on him and detained him so late that he was unable to fulfill his promise of coming to tea with me.

One day the young barrister, Mr. W., and the other 'boy,' Dr. D., came to tea with me at Kate's and we had a gay time. Mr. W. took far more liberties with the Master than anyone else would dare to do. I remember the latter complaining to me one day that 'Aleck' had made him put three whole sheets in the fire that morning.

Mr. W. told me one day how he first gained the Master's affection, and it was a very delightful tale as he told it.

'I'm almost the only person who dares to contradict the Professor, or to find fault with him, and that is the real reason of his fondness for me. I always tell him exactly what I think without fear or favor. That was how I first won his notice. One day he was showing some Oxford men myself among them a drawing he had just made of an angel. They all went into raptures over it. When it came to me I only said, "What made you draw one wing so much better than the other?" It was the first thing that struck me, so I said it. And the Professor was delighted. "Because I was tired and lazy and impatient. I did the first wing as well as I possibly could and then did the other anyhow because I was in a hurry to finish it. But you

Hood's Life the Master laughed till he cried, and his reading made us do the same.

These delightful evenings marked the zenith of my happiness in those memorable three weeks at Coniston. They were not to be my last, however. The dear Master had already issued a royally gracious 'command' to return there at Christmas - 'for the whole of the Christmas holidays, remember, Jessie.'

But both Mr. Severn and Mr. W. had most kindly given me gentle warnings that all those who came into intimate relations with the Professor, since his sad illnesses, must prepare themselves for sudden inexplicable fluctuations in his favor toward them, and for startling rebuffs at times, and they had begged me not to take these things too much to heart when my turn should come.

The sequel proved the wisdom and kindness of their advice. The next letter from him, received at Kate's only two or three days after these perfect evenings, came on me like a clap of thunder out of a clear blue sky, and nearly broke my heart in spite of their friendly warnings. Of course the fact that the main accusation it contained was wholly without foundation ought to have told me that the overtasked brain was once more on the point of breaking down, and had I known him better I should have realized this and been less overcome with grief and shame.

I have hesitated long before transcribing this letter, but without it much that follows would be meaningless. So I have decided to give it, heavy as is the blow to my pride, and that after forty years!

The 'Frederic (Ulric)' mentioned in it was a German story of Swiss peasant life which he had asked me to translate for Fors.

DEAR JESSIE,

BRANTWOOD, Monday.

I send you the paper and the Frederic, and I hope you will have had some pleasure in the hills to-day. I was surprised to see, when you were here, how little you had really understood that I wanted you to come to SEE the hills and Brantwood and me but not at all to talk! You had not, I found, the least idea how much as a rule I dislike talking-how necessary it is for me that my friends should be able to amuse themselves without me. Think for instance in going over the lake yesterday when my proper state would have been merely to watch the thunder-clouds and the wide waters

and let my thoughts go where they chose what a sudden crash into the brain it is to be asked such a question as 'whether I would tell children how much I believed the Bible!'

I tell you this that you may not think me unkind in not allowing you to come whenever you like. I never do that with anybody — and I'm sadly afraid that in general those who want most of me see least, because I find the sense of responsibility too heavy. You must be content to learn from my books, not from me.