shaking hands. ... its joy consisted so much in the momentary grasp of a hand, in the sudden sight of a face which owed all its preciousness to the thought of natures I had learnt to know in sad moments or hard working days. . . . Does it not seem to you one of the main things we long for in heaven that every strong affection for visible things will have some answer? ... I often feel so sure that the love of places, employments, books, as well as people, is not to perish, but to be justified."
January 29th, 1860.
To Miss Baumgartner. Yesterday I saw Ruskin. "Do you come by appointment?" the servant asked me, "because Mr. Ruskin said he would see no one." "Mr. Ruskin fixed the day, I named the hour ; but if he is busy——." The servant, however, seemed sure that I was to be admitted, and I was shown into the study, where Ruskin greeted me with the words, "I'm very glad to see you." I saw he was ill, and found he had been suffering from toothache, and awake all night. I begged him, therefore, not to attend to my work. However he would do it. I shall not readily forget the afternoon. He was not busy, and showed me the loveliest things, exquisite copies of illuminations, wonderful sketches by Mr. Bunney (one of his College pupils), sketches which Ruskin said he had seen nothing like them except Turner. . . . And then Ruskin showed me two of Turner's loveliest small drawings, one of Solomon's pools, and beyond their square basins, and the battlements, amidst which the light gleamed, the sun was setting ; and clouds gathered about him, because, Ruskin said, the clouds gathered about
