ets of the city, when turret rises over turret, and casement
frowns beyond casement, and tower succeeds to tower along the farthest
ridges of the inhabited hills,--this is a sublimity of which you can at
present form no conception; and capable, I believe, of exciting almost
the deepest emotion that art can ever strike from the bosoms of men.

And justly the deepest: for it is a law of God and of Nature, that your
pleasures--as your virtues--shall be enhanced by mutual aid. As, by
joining hand in hand, you can sustain each other best, so, hand in hand,
you can delight each other best. And there is indeed a charm and
sacredness in street architecture which must be wanting even to that of
the temple: it is a little thing for men to unite in the forms of a
religious service, but it is much for them to unite, like true brethren,
in the arts and offices of their daily lives.

50. And now, I can conceive only of one objection as likely still to
arise in your minds, which I must briefly meet. Your pictures, and other
smaller works of art, you can carry with you, wherever you live; your
house must be left behind. Indeed, I believe that the wandering habits
which have now become almost necessary to our existence, lie more at the
root of our bad architecture than any other character of modern times.
We always look upon our houses as mere temporary lodgings. We are always
hoping to get larger and finer ones, or are forced, in some way or
other, to live where we do not choose, and in continual expectation of
changing our place of abode. In the present state of society, this is in
a great measure unavoidable; but let us remember it is an _evil_; and
that so far as it _is_ avoidable, it becomes our duty to check the
impulse. It is not for me to lead you at present into any consideration
of a matter so closely touching your private interests and feelings; but
it surely is a subject for serious thought, whether it might not be
better for many of us, if, on attaining a certain position in life, we
determined, with God's permission, to choose a home in which to live and
die,--a home not to be increased by adding stone to stone and field to
field, but which, being enough for all our wishes at that period, we
should resolve to be satisfied with forever. Consider this; and also,
whether we ought not to be more in the habit of seeking honor from our
descendants than our ancestors; thinking it better to be nobly
remembered than nobly born; and