ive
height, one behind another, instead of the mere tops and flanks of
masses, as in the plains; and the forms of multitudes of them
continually defined against the clear sky, near and above, or against
white clouds entangled among their branches, instead of being confused
in dimness of distance.

Finally, to this supremacy in foliage we have to add the still less
questionable supremacy in clouds. There is no effect of sky possible
in the lowlands which may not in equal perfection be seen among the
hills; but there are effects by tens of thousands, for ever invisible
and inconceivable to the inhabitant of the plains, manifested among
the hills in the course of one day. The mere power of familiarity with
the clouds, of walking with them and above them, alters and renders
clear our whole conception of the baseless architecture of the sky;
and for the beauty of it, there is more in a single wreath of early
cloud, pacing its way up an avenue of pines, or pausing among the
points of their fringes, than in all the white heaps that fill the
arched sky of the plains from one horizon to the other. And of the
nobler cloud manifestations,--the breaking of their troublous seas
against the crags, their black spray sparkling with lightning; or the
going forth of the morning[27] along their pavements of moving marble,
level-laid between dome and dome of snow;--of these things there can
be as little imagination or understanding in an inhabitant of the
plains as of the scenery of another planet than his own.

And, observe, all these superiorities are matters plainly measurable
and calculable, not in any wise to be referred to estimate of
_sensation_. Of the grandeur or expression of the hills I have not
spoken; how far they are great, or strong, or terrible, I do not for
the moment consider, because vastness, and strength, and terror, are
not to all minds subjects of desired contemplation. It may make no
difference to some men whether a natural object be large or small,
whether it be strong or feeble. But loveliness of colour, perfectness
of form, endlessness of change, wonderfulness of structure, are
precious to all undiseased human minds; and the superiority of the
mountains in all these things to the lowland is, I repeat, as
measurable as the richness of a painted window matched with a white
one, or the wealth of a museum compared with that of a simply
furnished chamber. They seem to have been built for the human race, as
at once