ugust, he started for the Continent and stayed a while at
Avallon in central France, a district new to him. There he met Mr. Frank
Randal, one of the artists working for St. George's Guild, and explored
the scenery and antiquities of a most interesting neighbourhood. He
drove over the Jura in the old style, revisited Savoy, and after weeks
of bitter _bise_ and dark weather, a splendid sunset cleared the hills.
He wrote to Miss Beever:--"I saw Mont Blanc again to-day, unseen since
1877; and was very thankful. It is a sight that always redeems me to
what I am capable of at my poor little best, and to what loves and
memories are most precious to me."

At Annecy he was pleased to find the waiter at the Hotel Verdun
remembered his visit twenty years before;--everywhere he met old
friends, and saw old scenes that he had feared he never would revisit.
After crossing the Cenis and hastening through Turin and Genoa, he
reached Lucca, to be awaited at the Albergo Reale dell' Universo by a
crowd, every one anxious to shake hands with Signor Ruskin. No
wonder!--for instead of allowing himself to be a mere Number-so-and-so
in a hotel, wherever he felt comfortable--and that was everywhere except
at pretentious modern hotels--he made friends with the waiter, chatted
with the landlord, found his way into the kitchen to compliment the
cook, and forgot nobody in the establishment--not only in "tips," but in
a frank and sympathetic address which must have contrasted curiously, in
their minds, with the reserve and indifference of other English
tourists.

At Florence he met Mr. Henry Roderick Newman, an American artist who had
been at Coniston and was working for the Guild. He introduced Ruskin to
Mrs. and Miss Alexander. In these ladies' home he found his own aims, in
religion, philanthropy, and art, realised in an unexpected way. Miss
Alexander's drawing at first struck him by its sincerity. Not only did
she draw beautifully, but she also wrote a beautiful hand; and it had
been one of his old sayings that missal-writing, rather than
missal-painting, was the admirable thing in mediaeval art. The legends
illustrated by her drawings were collected by herself, through an
intimate acquaintance with Italians of all classes, from the nobles to
the peasantry, whom she understood and loved, and by whom she was loved
and understood. By such intercourse she had learned to look beneath the
surface. In religious matters her American common-sense saw