r. Lupton:[101] that is what he
saw when he had landed, and ran back directly to the pier to see what
had become of the brig. The weather had got still worse, the fishwomen
were being blown about in a distressful manner on the pier head, and
some more fishing boats were running in with all speed. Then there is
the "Fortrouge," Calais: that is what he saw after he had been home to
Dessein's, and dined, and went out again in the evening to walk on the
sands, the tide being down. He had never seen such a waste of sands
before, and it made an impression on him. The shrimp girls were all
scattered over them too, and moved about in white spots on the wild
shore; and the storm had lulled a little, and there was a sunset--such a
sunset,--and the bars of Fortrouge seen against it, skeleton-wise.

He did not paint that directly; thought over it,--painted it a long
while afterwards.

Then there is the vignette in the illustrations to Scott. That is what
he saw as he was going home, meditatively; and the revolving lighthouse
came blazing out upon him suddenly, and disturbed him. He did not like
that so much; made a vignette of it, however, when he was asked to do a
bit of Calais, twenty or thirty years afterwards, having already done
all the rest.

Turner never told me all this, but any one may see it if he will compare
the pictures. They might, possibly, not be impressions of a single day,
but of two days or three; though in all human probability they were seen
just as I have stated them;[102] but they _are_ records of successive
impressions, as plainly written as ever traveller's diary. All of them
pure veracities. Therefore immortal.

I could multiply these series almost indefinitely from the rest of his
works. What is curious, some of them have a kind of private mark running
through all the subjects. Thus I know three drawings of Scarborough, and
all of them have a starfish in the foreground: I do not remember any
others of his marine subjects which have a starfish.

The other kind of repetition--the recurrence to one early impression--is
however still more remarkable. In the collection of F. H. Bale, Esq.,
there is a small drawing of Llanthony Abbey. It is in his boyish manner,
its date probably about 1795; evidently a sketch from nature, finished
at home. It had been a showery day; the hills were partially concealed
by the rain, and gleams of sunshine breaking out at intervals. A man was
fishing in the mountain stream. T