To George Richmond, A.R.A.

15th Feb.’65

Dear Richmond,—I had not seen Willie's picture till to-day. I've written to his wife about it. I must just catch the post to send you also my deep and most solemn congratulation. I don't know what you feel about it, but I would rather have the head of that girl in green than anything in oil by whomsoever you like to say of the Florentine or Southern Italy men; and although there is as yet no enjoyment (thank Heaven) of painting as such—no Correggio or Reynolds quality—there is a divine ideal of human beauty and sight of it, which as his skill perfects itself ought to make him another name among the fixed Stars.

I am very wild about it just now, not having thought that the deep harmonies were in him, but expecting only clever and pretty popular work. But this looks to me quite limitless—pardon what presumption there may be in my thought that my telling you what I feel about it will give you a pleasure which I want to catch the post for, and so can't say more, nor say this less conceitedly. Love to his mother. I hope John is better.—Ever your affectionate

J. Ruskin.

To Mrs. Gaskell

February 21, 1865.

… I have just been reading Cranford out to my mother. She has read it about five times; but, the first time I tried, I flew into a passion at Captain Brown's being killed and wouldn't go any further—but this time my mother coaxed me past it, and then I enjoyed it mightily.