The record-union., 1891-05-30
Brentwood, the Home of Ruskin,
and Its Surroundings.
An Unexpected Visit to Rommany
Friends in Quaint Gypsy Camp
Near Bowness and windermere-
A Bed of Sweet BUSHES.
Especial Correspondence of the RECORD
UNION. Copyright, 1911

Ireland, with the exception of few days
visit with friends In northern Lancashire,
England. Journeying from Carnforth to
INVERSION / entered a railway carriagein
which sat man muffled to his ears in
wraps and rugs.
My presence, and especially my having
left open the window of the close COM
partment, made him uneasy. He snorted
and fidgeted for time, conveying, by I'M
deniable token, his intense displeasure.
Then, making a deliberate grab at the
window strap, he hurled the sash back in
its place with crash, and, as he gave his
wrappings a tempestuous swirl to replace
them, snarled at me:
"Do all Americans live out of doors?"
"All." ] responded cheerily, "save
those living in tepees and tents. We have
not time to build houses. We like 1t. It's
our way"
My companion instantly shot two spare
legs wide apart out of the rugs, leaned
thin body and face far forward as If to
make his passionate glare the more eff
tective, and, cutting swift large circle
In the armament of the musty compart-
ment with the index finger of his skinny
right hand, piped in vociferous treble:
Tits not your way, sir, it is Gods way.
OF creations cosmic plan. Even if you
lived as you falsely assert, you would
be unaware of the dignity you unconsci-
ously, or impudently, assumed. Supreme
intelligence welded to supreme simplici-
ty are alone competent to the realization
of eternal Truth!''
/ acceded to all this so quickly and ca
gerly that it seemed in manner to shat
ter my nervous companion. He slid back
upon his seat in such helpless sort Of
way that / at once, without apology, gath
cred the man and his wrappings togeth-
er, soothingly adjusted the latter, and was
relieved of some anxiety to fnd, in a lit
tie time, as evidenced by certain rhap
sodical sncrings, that he had passed over,
If but temporarily, into the poppy land Of
dreams.
This gave me an opportunity to crafty
an almost imperative curiosity, l went
so far as to examine his hand luggage.
The plain Roman initials -. R.' was all
found stamped upon antiquated port
manteau and rustier handbag. But over
in the corner of his seat was a neat brown
paper parcel which might have held a bit
of untouched lunch, and | saw on this
the startling legend Cor Mr.. Ruskin."
When John Ruskin awoke we could
both look out of the compartment window
and see the tide sweeping in from More
Gamble Bay across the Leven Sands. 1t
seemed to please him, and his large gray
brows with light that transformed his
pinched face into something like kindly
radiance. But / do not believe 1t was the
face, despite his imperial fame in the
realm OF art and letters, that had ever
stood between the world and happy
heart since that long ago time when the
mystery of his life left him in wifeless and
childless isolation.
Some impulse of companionship led
him to question me closely and without
ceremony regarding myself and my then
literary work in Ireland. answered him
honestly, addressing him by his name,
and expressing regret that EngliShmen
like him would not do as / had done
visit the lowly of Ireland in every part of
Ireland with an honest purpose of discoy-
ering misgovernment and its deplorable
results, and protesting against il in high
places where it would be heard. This
threw him into another paroxysm OF rage
In which he gave vent to language /
would not care to repeat, the tenor of
which may be shown by his closing OBJ
jurgation, repeated again and again:
Guns, not government, for 1relandr'
Mr.. Ruskin, or no Mr.. Ruskin, I would
not sit silent under that and at all risks,
denounced his barbarous Toryism so
roundly, pointed out his own inexcusable
and wholly ignorant malignity with such
daring, and illustrated his lack of hu-
manity, while famous before the world as
a prophet of illimitable tenderness and
charity, the logical outgrowth of his end
less battle for the worship of nature, truth
and God, with such unsparing reckless
ness, that its very audacity, or some man.
ner of kindly introSpection, Gained him,
just as the train slackened its speed at Ul-
version. Here, when l hastily left the
carriage with a curt Good day, STRIP he
called TO me to return. Reaching his thin
hand out to me he gave my own hearty
grasp, and said most graciously and
friendly:
"Bear away kinder thought of me.
You have been very plain, sir; but you
have done me good. am not well, sir;
is not afraid of me. rll think about Ire
land. Come to my home, at Brentwood,
any time at your pleasure"
The grizzled face had everything hui
man and good in it as he spoke. I
thanked him, said l would come, and
hurried away in the crowd, but with the
then many conflicting emotions in my
mind, said to my welcoming friend at
INVERSION, as I mentioned my ride with
the famous Englishman, "If it had not
been John Ruskin l should have regard
ed the man insane"
John Ruskin?" he added sententious-
1y. "Oh, everybody up Lancashire way
knows he's always been crazy!"
Before / could visit Brentwood IL was
known TO all that the cloud which is sell
dom lifted had dimmed the great mans
intellect But little time ago the cable
told American people that he had at
tempted TO take his own life. Though
his own invitation had been repeated BY
others who stand for him at the beautiful
lakeside home, could not Justify its ac-
ceptance, Going to the shell of what had
held great spirit and holding a sort of
literary autopsy on its defenceless remains
seemed heartless thing To do Yet. be-
ing so near him here in the English lake
region, found myself continually yield
ing to a subtle fascination which impelled
me TO go where the man, Ruskin, had
dwelt. 1t is but a little walk over the fell
from Ambleside Ferry to Brantwood-a
longer one, but an ever-winsome foot
journey, around by Hawkshead, where
Wordsworth's early school days were
passed, through the little hamlet of Wa
terhead, leaving the Town OF Coniston and
Coniston Old Man Mountain to the left.
Thence TO the south, along the eastern
shore of Coniston Water, it is hardly
three miles to Brentwood. The sur
roundings are of the greatest natural
beauty. The Coniston Water stretches
to the north and south Immediately in
front, with Walnay Scar and Coniston
Old Man beyond the opposite shore, and
grand but lesser scars and fells breaking
away in billowy reaches to the west and
south. To the north, almost beside Brant-
wood on the eastern shore, nestles Tent
Lodge for time the home of Tennyson,
and just below are the fine seats of Dodo-
son Wood, Waterpark and the bold hill
of High Nibthwaite.
Brentwood itself, as seen from the high
way, seems like single facade of rray old
stone, set in a hanging wood against the
verdure-covered mountain escarpment
1t Is long, low, but two-storied, with an
almost fiat slate roof tn rough which pro-
Ject three tiers OF huge double chimneys.
II ~