and I imagine there is no instance of an architect's having painted such stones white, in order to make them more beautiful; though dingy, or red stone, may sometimes have been painted of a freestone colour. The true object of imitation seems therefore to be the tint of a beautiful stone; and if those who whiten their buildings, would pique themselves on matching exactly the colour of Bath, or Portland stone, so as to be neither whiter, nor yellower, the greatest neatness and gaiety might prevail, without crudeness or glare.

Such an improvement, however, should chiefly be confined to fiery brick; for when brick becomes weather-stained and mossy, it harmonizes with other colours, and has often a richness, mellowness, and variety of tint, infinitely pleasing to a painter's eye: for the cool colour of the greenish moss lowers the fiery quality; while the subdued fire beneath gives a glow of a peculiar character, which the painter would hardly like to exchange for any

uniform colour; much less for the unmixed whiteness of lime.

Besides the glare, there is another circumstance which often renders white-wash extremely offensive to the eye, especially when it is applied to any uneven surface; and that is, a smeared, dirty appearance. This is the case where decayed, or rough stone-work is dabbed with lime, while the dirt is left between the crevices; as likewise where the coarse wood-work that separates the plaistered walls of a cottage is brushed over, as well as the smooth walls themselves: in these cases, however, the objects aré inconsiderable, and the effect in proportion; but when this pitiful taste is employed upon some ancient castle-like mansion, or the mossy weather-stained tower of an old church, it becomes a sort of sacrilege. Such a building daubed over and plaistered, is, next to a painted old woman, the most disgusting of all attempts at improvement; on both, when left in their natural state, time often stamps a pleasing and venerable impression; but when thus

sophisticated, they have neither the freshness of youth, nor the mellow picturesque character of age; and instead of becoming attractive, are only made horribly conspicuous,

I am afraid it will not be easy to check the general passion for distinctness and conspicuity. Each prospect hunter (a very numerous tribe) like the heroic Ajax, forms but one prayer;

Ποίησον δ' αιθρην, δος δ' οφθαλμοισιν ιδέσθαι.

Let them see but clearly, and see. enough, they are content; and much may be said in their favour: composition, grouping, breadth and effect of light and shadow, harmony of colours, &c. are comparatively attended to and enjoyed by few; but extensive prospects are the most popular of all views, and their respective superiority is generally decided by the number of churches and counties. Distinctness is therefore the great point; a painter may wish several hills of bad shapes, and thousands of uninteresting

his

acres, to be covered with one general shade; but to him who is to reckon up counties, the loss of a black or a white spot, of a clump or a gazabo, is the loss of a voucher.

Then again as the prospect-shewer has great pleasure and vanity in pointing out these vouchers, so the improver, on his side, has full as much in being pointed at; we therefore cannot wonder that so many churches have been converted into these beacons of taste, or that so many hills have been marked with them.

CHAPTER VIII.

I HAVE hitherto endeavoured to trace the picturesque in all that relates to form, and to the effects of light and shade; I have endeavoured to distinguish it from the beautiful, and from the sublime; and to shew the influence of breadth on them all. It now remains to examine how far the same general principles operate with regard to colours.

Mr. Burke's idea of the beautiful in colour seems to me in the highest degree satisfactory, and to correspond with all his other ideas of beauty. I must observe