I have been meaning to write to you ever since Brown showed us the photograph from your noble picture of St. Cuthbert. I had not, in the state of sleepy worry in which one lives, yet woke up to the consciousness that such things were being done out there, & it came to me as a most delightful surprise. I shall hope some day to see the original. You must really, all things considered, have been very quick about it. The amount of work is very great. I suppose it is the only picture existing, of so definitely "historical" a class, in which the surroundings are all real studies from nature—a great thing to have done. The sky & sea are sky and sea, & the boats are as accurate & real as if you had got such things to sit to you. The whole scene too, and the quiet way in which the incident is occurring, at once strike the spectator with the immense advantage of simple truth in historical art over the "monumental" style. The figures all seem very fine—though their lower limbs are out of focus in the photograph. The only one which at all fails to satisfy me is the priest in the centre; but perhaps you are right in curtailing him of much individuality—i.e. to judge by such specimens as the cloth chiefly affords us in these days. A series of works such as St. Cuthbert cannot fail in establishing your reputation. I hear you are now at work on the "Building of the Roman Wall". I shall long to see the series complete. One of the subjects—the taking down of the gauntlets—should inspire you—a most glorious opportunity for a stirring work.

I have done a few water-colours in my small way lately, and have designed 5 blocks for the Tennyson, some of which are still cutting and maiming. It is a thankless task. After a fortnight's work, my block goes to the engraver like Agag, delicately, & is hewn in pieces before the Lord Harry.