By-the-bye, you will be particularly pleased to hear that Lina's portrait has had an immense success, and indeed, on second thoughts, perhaps it was more admired than anything else. The "Capri" and the "Aslett" were also much liked. Mind, dear Mamma, this letter is "strictly confidential," because although, of course, you want to know what people say of my pictures, anybody else seeing this letter would (or might) suppose I was devoured with vanity. I have just made an unexpected acquaintance in the Gladstones, who sent me, I don't know why, a card for two parties. It was very polite of them, and of course I went. This is a very egotistical letter, dear Mamma, but I know that is what you want. I am very sufficiently well, not strong, but never ill. I marched to Wimbledon with the Volunteers last Monday, and got wet several times but did not catch cold.[18] LONDON. 1861. DEAR PAPA,--If the _Public_ receives my pictures as favourably as the _Private_ has done, I shall have no cause to complain; as far, at least, as the maintenance and increase of my reputation is concerned. I should, however, have liked the "market" to be a little more "brisk." Tom Taylor and Rossetti (Wm.), the only critics that came (as far as I know) besides Stephens, were, as far as I can judge, both of them much pleased with what they saw. I know at least that both spoke well of my pictures behind my back. As for Ruskin, he was in one of his queer moods when he came to breakfast with me--he spent his time looking at my portfolio and praised my drawings most lavishly--_he did not even look at the pictures_. However, nothing could be more cordial than he is to me. I bolted out into the passage after you when you left the other day to tell you that one of the gentlemen you saw come in was Sir Edwin Landseer, but you had disappeared. PARIS. _Monday_. DEAREST MOTHER,--I must wind up with bad news, which I hope you will bear well: my pictures are badly hung, ill lighted, and almost entirely ignored by the press.[19] Of course this is _au fond_, a bitter disappointment to a man of my temperament, especially after all the praise my work got before the Exhibition. However, I shall wear a brave face, and who knows but that some good may arise to me out of this? My little energies will be sharpened up and my tenacity roused. I trust in some future day, as long as hope lives. God bless you, Mammy; best love to dear Gussy. From your affectionate son, FRED. _May 1, 1861._