A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. 1 1/ 



Margaret summarises, " You'll never make me believe 

 in blue trees and a pink sky ! " 



After tea we adjourn to my little gallery ; a few 

 feet of dark panelling whereon hang the little Turner 

 a body-colour Venice something of the latest two 

 Prouts ; a David Cox sketch of a storm ; an immortal 

 plain girl in a blue sash by Hunt ; and a few moderns 

 who have not yet " arrived." In their perfections both 

 sides find the evidence they require. I suggest 

 recourse to literary colourists. We discuss that touch 

 in the Purgatorio where the shadow falls red on the 

 white flame, and the parallel in the Ancient Mariner 

 where 



" The charmed water burnt alway 

 A still and awful red " 



two instances of colour-sight something like Turner's, 

 certainly unlike many other people's. Then we come 

 back to the Commedia for that deep paradox, which 

 contains the whole matter, of the 



" Troppo color vivo." 



The elder ladies leave us to our argument, and 

 retiring to the window at the end of the long room, 

 discuss the vital necessities of the parish. I find my- 

 self engaged in a little war with Miss Cottingham on 



