et always look
for subjects that fall into definite masses, not into network; that is,
rather for a cottage with a dark tree beside it, than for one with a
thin tree in front of it, rather for a mass of wood, soft, blue, and
rounded, than for a ragged copse, or confusion of intricate stems.

(5.) Avoid, as far as possible, country divided by hedges. Perhaps
nothing in the whole compass of landscape is so utterly unpicturesque
and unmanageable as the ordinary English patchwork of field and hedge,
with trees dotted over it in independent spots, gnawed straight at the
cattle line.

Still, do not be discouraged if you find you have chosen ill, and that
the subject overmasters you. It is much better that it should, than that
you should think you had entirely mastered _it_. But at first, and even
for some time, you must be prepared for very discomfortable failure;
which, nevertheless, will not be without some wholesome result.

123. As, however, I have told you what most definitely to avoid, I may,
perhaps, help you a little by saying what to seek. In general, all banks
are beautiful things, and will reward work better than large landscapes.
If you live in a lowland country, you must look for places where the
ground is broken to the river's edges, with decayed posts, or roots of
trees; or, if by great good luck there should be such things within your
reach, for remnants of stone quays or steps, mossy mill-dams, etc.
Nearly every other mile of road in chalk country will present beautiful
bits of broken bank at its sides; better in form and color than high
chalk cliffs. In woods, one or two trunks, with the flowery ground
below, are at once the richest and easiest kind of study: a not very
thick trunk, say nine inches or a foot in diameter, with ivy running up
it sparingly, is an easy, and always a rewarding subject.

124. Large nests of buildings in the middle distance are always
beautiful, when drawn carefully, provided they are not modern rows of
pattern cottages, or villas with Ionic and Doric porticoes. Any old
English village, or cluster of farmhouses, drawn with all its ins and
outs, and haystacks, and palings, is sure to be lovely; much more a
French one. French landscape is generally as much superior to English as
Swiss landscape is to French; in some respects, the French is
incomparable. Such scenes as that avenue on the Seine, which I have
recommended you to buy the engraving of, admit no rivalship in their
expre