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Literary Life of the Rev. William Harness
William Harness to A. G. K. L'Estrange, 28 May 1866
INTRODUCTION & INDEXES
DOCUMENT INFORMATION
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Preface
Contents
Chapter I.
Chapter II.
Chapter III.
Chapter IV.
Chapter V.
Chapter VI.
Chapter VII.
Chapter VIII.
Chapter IX.
Chapter X.
Chapter XI.
Chapter XII.
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“Kensington Gore,
“May 28, 1866.
“My dear L’Estrange,

“Your MS. arrived duly and in safety on Saturday; but I was so occupied all the day that I had not a moment to spare even to write a line to you. I went out early to take a glimpse of the Horticultural Garden Show, and paid half-a-crown to see it in a gradual state of demolition: all that was best already gone, and the rest in a state of removal. The ‘pitcher tree’ (do you know it?) was the only thing curious that I had not seen a good specimen of before. That is eminently curious. But the con-
256PAINTINGS BY REINSTADT.
clusion which I drew from what remained is, that the gardeners are by force of art cultivating away all the beauty of flowers, as the music-masters are practising and straining their pupils out of all the charm of singing. A rose on its natural stem is a beautiful flower; but what can be the beauty of a large red-cabbage sort of thing growing like this (a sketch) at the top of a stiff” twig? An azalea is a beautiful thing blooming here and there amid green leaves in its own natural manner; but what is there in a pyramid (another sketch), all flowers and no leaves, superior to the same sort of thing made of pink, yellow, or white silver paper?

“After walking till I was tired, and abusing what remained of the Exhibition, because there was so little left to look at, I went to a shop in the Haymarket, next door to the theatre, to see a very beautiful landscape which had been sent over from America. It is a large view of a scene in the Rocky Mountains, and is well nigh the finest landscape I have ever seen. I wish you had been with me! It is by a man named Reinstadt. He’s a German, living and educated in America; and if he can paint more as good pictures as this is, he is the first landscape-painter of our time. My hand is swollen, but free from pain, and I still have no power of voice. So
RULES FOR HEALTH.257
voice. So altogether, I’m in a bad case, and am going to take advice. Write to me, and remember that I am always,

“Affectionately yours,
“W. H.

“Have you read ‘the Spanish Gipsy’—a poem by the author of ‘Adam Bede?’ If you have not, do! It is really very good; and considering that it is a nineteenth century production, almost intelligible throughout. I have read nothing so like English for many a day.”