is caught by it, and stored up
for future expenditure; so that, both actually and in its effect, it is
peculiarly suited for a climate whose changes are in general from bad to
worse, and from worse to bad.

191. These then are the principal apologies which the brick
dwelling-house has to offer for its ugliness. They will, however, only
stand it in stead in the simple blue country; and, even there, only when
the following points are observed.

First. The brick should neither be of the white, nor the very dark red,
kind. The white is worse than useless as a color: its cold, raw, sandy
neutral has neither warmth enough to relieve, nor gray enough to
harmonize with, any natural tones; it does not please the eye by warmth,
in shade; it hurts it, by dry heat in sun; it has none of the advantages
of effect which brick may have, to compensate for the vulgarity which it
must have, and is altogether to be abhorred. The very bright red, again,
is one of the ugliest warm colors that art ever stumbled upon: it is
never mellowed by damps or anything else, and spoils everything near it
by its intolerable and inevitable glare. The moderately dark brick, of a
neutral red, is to be chosen, and this, after a year or two, will be
farther softened in its color by atmospheric influence, and will possess
all the advantages we have enumerated. It is almost unnecessary to point
out its fitness for a damp situation, not only as the best material for
securing the comfort of the inhabitant, but because it will the sooner
contract a certain degree of softness of tone, occasioned by microscopic
vegetation, which will leave no more brick-red than is agreeable to the
feelings where the atmosphere is chill.

192. Secondly. Even this kind of red is a very powerful color; and as,
in combination with the other primitive colors, very little of it will
complete the light, so, very little will answer every purpose in
landscape composition, and every addition, above that little, will be
disagreeable. Brick, therefore, never should be used in large groups of
buildings, where those groups are to form part of landscape scenery: two
or three houses, partly shaded with trees, are all that can be admitted
at once. There is no object more villainously destructive of natural
beauty, than a large town, of very red brick, with very scarlet tiling,
very tall chimneys, and very few trees; while there are few objects that
harmonize more agreeably with the feeling of Eng