[_Edinburgh, May or June 1875._]
I say, we have a splendid picture here in Edinburgh. A Ruysdael of which
one can never tire: I think it is one of the best landscapes in the
world: a grey still day, a grey still river, a rough oak wood on one
shore, on the other chalky banks with very complicated footpaths, oak
woods, a field where a man stands reaping, church towers relieved
against the sky and a beautiful distance, neither blue nor green. It is
so still, the light is so cool and temperate, the river woos you to
bathe in it. O I like it!
I say, I wonder if our Scottish Academy's exhibition is going to be done
at all for Appleton or whether he does not care for it. It might amuse
me, although I am not fit for it. Why and O why doesn't Grove publish
me?--Ever yours,