and red bricks
endurable. Neatness will not spoil it: the angle of its roof may be
acute, its windows sparkling, and its roses red and abundant; but it
must not be ornamented nor fantastic, it must be evidently built for the
uses of common life, and have a matter-of-fact business-like air about
it. Its outhouses and pigsties, and dunghills should therefore, be kept
in sight: the latter may be made very pretty objects, by twisting them
with the pitchfork, and plaiting them into braids, as the Swiss do.

92. III. The Wild, or gray, Country. "Wild" is not exactly a correct
epithet; we mean wide, uninclosed, treeless undulations of land, whether
cultivated or not. The greater part of northern France, though well
brought under the plow, would come under the denomination of gray
country. Occasional masses of monotonous forest do not destroy this
character. Here, size is desirable, and massiness of form; but we must
have no brightness of color in the cottage, otherwise it would draw the
eye to it at three miles off, and the whole landscape would be covered
with conspicuous dots. White is agreeable, if sobered down; slate
allowable on the roof as well as thatch. For the rest, we need only
refer to the remarks made on the propriety of the French cottage.

93. Lastly, Hill, or brown, Country. And here if we look to England
alone, as peculiarly a cottage country, the remarks formerly advanced,
in the consideration of the Westmoreland cottage, are sufficient; but if
we go into mountain districts of more varied character, we shall find a
difference existing between every range of hills, which will demand a
corresponding difference in the style of their cottages. The principles,
however, are the same in all situations, and it would be a hopeless task
to endeavor to give more than general principles. In hill country,
however, another question is introduced, whose investigation is
peculiarly necessary in cases in which the ground has inequality of
surface, that of position. And the difficulty here is, not so much to
ascertain where the building ought to be, as to put it there, without
suggesting any inquiry as to the mode in which it got there; to prevent
its just application from appearing artificial. But we cannot enter into
this inquiry, before laying down a number of principles of composition,
which are applicable, not only to cottages, but generally; and which we
cannot deduce until we come to the consideration of buildings in
g