The removal to Kensington in the spring of 1848 was a wise step. The little house in Marylebone was now in the midst of surroundings among which few professional men would care to be found, and to the clay soil my father attributed much of his ill-health since his return from Italy. The chief benefit of the removal was that though it increased his distance from one or two of the companions of his youth it brought him into the very midst of an artistic circle whence arose invaluable friendships. Moreover, Kensington Gardens formed a better apology for the country than dank Regent's Park, and gave him some opportunities (such as they were) of studying foliage and sylvan effects.

Having wavered between Yorkshire and the south of England in choosing the place for his summer campaign his old prejudice against the North prevailed, and he spent the greater part of July in Cornwall. Here, on this and other occasions, he accumulated a large number of pencil, chalk, and water-colour sketches of the coast, including a three weeks' series of sunsets painted each day with precisely the same foreground of sea and rock; “a piece of study” which he afterwards quoted as having been of great value to him. The sunsets were boldly and very rapidly executed, some on white, and some on tinted paper; and for this work he wore the large neutral-tint spectacles. Such of these studies as I have seen are skilful; and particularly so in the most difficult part—the scintillating track of sunlight upon the water.