Dr. B.’s room was cleaner and in better order than he remembered ever to have seen it.  There was not a chair fit to sit upon, all covered with dust, broken alabaster candlesticks, withered flower-leaves, frogs cut out of serpentine, broken models of fallen temples, torn papers, old manuscripts, stuffed reptiles, deal boxes, brown paper, wool, tow and cotton, and a considerable variety of other articles.  In came Mrs. Buckland, then Sir Philip Egerton and his brother, whom I had seen at Dr. B.’s lecture, though he is not an undergraduate.  I was talking to him till dinner-time.  While we were sitting over our wine after dinner, in came Dr. Daubeny, one of the most celebrated geologists of the day—­a curious little animal, looking through its spectacles with an air very distinguee—­and Mr. Darwin, whom I had heard read a paper at the Geological Society.  He and I got together, and talked all the evening.”

The long vacation of 1837 was passed in a tour through the North, during which his advanced knowledge of art was shown in a series of admirable drawings.  Their subjects are chiefly architectural, though a few mountain drawings are found in his sketch-book for that summer.

The interest in ancient and picturesque buildings was no new thing, and it seems to have been the branch of art-study which was chiefly encouraged by his father.  During this tour among Cumberland cottages and Yorkshire abbeys, a plan was formed for a series of papers on architecture, perhaps in answer to an invitation from his friend Mr. Loudon, who had started an architectural magazine.  In the summer he began to write “The Poetry of Architecture; or, The Architecture of the Nations of Europe considered in its Association with Natural Scenery and National Character,” and the papers were worked off month by month from Oxford, or wherever he might be, only terminating with the termination of the magazine in January, 1839.  They parade a good deal of classical learning and travelled experience; readers of the magazine took their author for some dilettante Don at Oxford.  The editor did not wish the illusion to be dispelled, so John Ruskin had to choose a nom de plume.  He called himself “Kata Phusin” ("according to nature"), for he had begun to read some Aristotle.  No phrase would have better expressed his point of view, that of commonsense extended by experience, and confirmed by the appeal to matters of fact, rather than to any authority, or tradition, or committee of taste, or abstract principles.

While these papers were in process of publication “Kata Phusin” plunged into his first controversy, as an opponent of “Parsey’s Convergence of Perpendiculars,” according to which vertical lines should have a vanishing point, even though they are assumed to be parallel to the plane of the picture.

During this controversy, and just before the summer tour of 1838 to Scotland, John Ruskin was introduced to Miss Charlotte Withers, a young lady who was as fond of music as he was of drawing.  They discussed their favourite studies with eagerness, and, to settle the matter, he wrote a long essay on “The Comparative Advantages of the Studies of Music and Painting,” in which he set painting as a means of recreation and of education far above music.