y for breakfast; I shall be back again presently."

* * * * *

Edward returned to them with fresh admiration of the surrounding
country; in his walk to the village, he had seen many parts of the
valley to advantage; and the village itself, in a much higher
situation than the cottage, afforded a general view of the whole,
which had exceedingly pleased him. This was a subject which ensured
Marianne's attention, and she was beginning to describe her own
admiration of these scenes, and to question him more minutely on the
objects that had particularly struck him, when Edward interrupted her
by saying, "You must not enquire too far, Marianne: remember I have no
knowledge in the picturesque, and I shall offend you by my ignorance
and want of taste if we come to particulars. I shall call hills steep,
which ought to be bold; surfaces strange and uncouth, which ought to
be irregular and rugged; and distant objects out of sight, which ought
only to be indistinct through the soft medium of a hazy atmosphere.
You must be satisfied with such admiration as I can honestly give. I
call it a very fine country,--the hills are steep, the woods seem full
of fine timber, and the valley looks comfortable and snug,--with rich
meadows and several neat farm houses scattered here and there. It
exactly answers my idea of a fine country, because it unites beauty
with utility--and I dare say it is a picturesque one too, because you
admire it; I can easily believe it to be full of rocks and
promontories, grey moss and brush wood, but these are all lost on me.
I know nothing of the picturesque."

"I am afraid it is but too true," said Marianne; "but why should you
boast of it?"

"I suspect," said Elinor, "that to avoid one kind of affectation,
Edward here falls into another. Because he believes many people
pretend to more admiration of the beauties of nature than they really
feel, and is disgusted with such pretensions, he affects greater
indifference and less discrimination in viewing them himself than he
possesses. He is fastidious and will have an affectation of his own."

"It is very true," said Marianne, "that admiration of landscape
scenery is become a mere jargon. Every body pretends to feel and tries
to describe with the taste and elegance of him who first defined what
picturesque beauty was. I detest jargon of every kind, and sometimes I
have kept my feelings to myself, because I could find no language to