outline. There is not a single straight
line to be met with from foundation to roof; all is bending or broken.
The form of every stone in its walls is a study; for, owing to the
infinite delicacy of structure in all minerals, a piece of stone 3 in.
in diameter, irregularly fractured, and a little worn by the weather,
has precisely the same character of outline which we should find and
admire in a mountain of the same material 6000 ft. high;[9] and,
therefore, the eye, though not feeling the cause, rests on every cranny,
and crack, and fissure with delight. It is true that we have no idea
that every small projection, if of chert, has such an outline as
Scawfell's; if of gray-wacke, as Skiddaw's; or if of slate, as
Helvellyn's; but their combinations of form are, nevertheless, felt to
be exquisite, and we dwell upon every bend of the rough roof and every
hollow of the loose wall, feeling it to be a design which no architect
on earth could ever equal, sculptured by a chisel of unimaginable
delicacy, and finished to a degree of perfection, which is unnoticed
only because it is everywhere.

[Footnote 9: Compare _Modern Painters_, vol. iv. chap. 18, Sec. 7.]

55. This ease and irregularity is peculiarly delightful where
gracefulness and freedom of outline and detail are, as they always are
in mountain countries, the chief characteristics of every scene. It is
well that, where every plant is wild and every torrent free, every field
irregular in its form, every knoll various in its outline, one is not
startled by well built walls, or unyielding roofs, but is permitted to
trace in the stones of the peasant's dwelling, as in the crags of the
mountain side, no evidence of the line or the mallet, but the operation
of eternal influences, the presence of an Almighty hand. Another
perfection connected with its ease of outline is, its severity of
character: there is no foppery about it; not the slightest effort at any
kind of ornament, but what nature chooses to bestow; it wears all its
decorations wildly, covering its nakedness, not with what the peasant
may plant, but with what the winds may bring. There is no gay color or
neatness about it; no green shutters or other abomination: all is calm
and quiet, and severe, as the mind of a philosopher, and, withal, a
little somber. It is evidently old, and has stood many trials in its
day; and the snow, and the tempest, and the torrent have all spared it,
and left it in its peace, with its