“Ah,” I said, “you won’t find it so accurate when you look nearer.” He then said that it was as accurate as it was possible to be without absolutely tracing it. He told me he saw with what spirit I had worked. He is going to take me to Marlboro’ House on Friday, and give me a student’s ticket; for he wants me to copy some Turners for him in outline. He says he must give me more teaching, which he can do when I am working at Marlboro’ House, where he will come and superintend me, when he has time. I felt altogether so delighted. Ruskin is so kind and beautiful. You know he is coming to keep my birthday with us.... He has been very busy, so that his looking over my work has been delayed. He sent me the Albert Dürer four weeks ago, saying, “Copy this, bit by bit, till I see you.” At last I had done it so long that I was sure he could not want me to go on longer. So I hit on this odd plan. I wrote to him something in this style: “My dear Mr. Ruskin, there was once a shepherd’s dog, who was ordered by his master to watch a flock of sheep. His master forgot to call him away, and went home. Surprised at the dog’s absence, he returned after two days, and found the poor fellow still watching his sheep. And the dog, who now addresses you, would be very glad to be thus patient and obedient, if she were sure that she was really doing the work her master most wanted done; but a great doubt has arisen in her mind as to it. She would not venture to set up her ideas of what is best or most necessary above her master’s. If he does want her to go on with the work, well and good. If not, can he write? If he cannot, she has done all she could, and will remain obedient to his words.” Was it not fun? He answered by return of post beginning, “My poor little doggie, I really will come to-morrow.” We are going to Lincoln’s Inn to-morrow, and then I am going to hear Spurgeon. Do you know who he is?
4, Russell Place,
November 22nd, 1857.
Emily to Florence.
I told you that Ruskin had promised to come the evening before Ockey’s birthday. She wanted to give him some present, so this is what we have thought of. Do you remember a little stand Ockey was going to paint for a chamois with the words[[29]]:—
“We see our skies thro’ clouds of smoke.
Theirs bends o’er wastes of sunlit snow.
God leads us all in different ways,
His hand to see, His will to know.”
We have just thought that she might finish that for him. But we were at a loss how to get a Swiss chamois. Well! you remember you had one given to you by Joanna, and they appealed to me as to whether I thought you would like to give it to Ruskin; and, as it is only ten days before the time, we could not hear from you; so I have ventured to take the responsibility of Ockey’s giving it, feeling sure what you would say if you were here. I hope I have done right, but I cannot bear that you should not join us in doing nice things of the kind, because you are at a distance. I know that your heart is in them. If she has an opportunity, Ockey means to say that it is your chamois. Ruskin will be pleased at its coming from you too. He always asks so kindly and sympathetically about you. When he was here on Friday he asked about you, before he looked at any of Ockey’s work.... Our reading in the evenings goes on delightfully. We have finished that beautiful book of Myers, “Lives of Great Men,” and are reading Mr. Maurice’s “Philosophy.”