h
is a requisite of extreme importance in hill districts, where it rains
three hours out of four all the year round; and under _c d_ we may have
the kitchen, servants' rooms, and coachhouse, leaving the large division
quiet and comfortable.

247. Then, as in the curved country there is no such distortion as that
before noticed, no such evidence of violent agency, we need not be so
careful about the appearance of perfect peace; we may be a little more
dignified and a little more classical. The windows may be symmetrically
arranged; and, if there be a blue and undulating distance, the upper
tier may even have cornices; narrower architraves are to be used; the
garrets may be taken from the roof, and their inmates may be
accommodated in the other side of the house; but we must take care, in
doing this, not to become Greek. The material, as we shall see
presently, will assist us in keeping unclassical; and not a vestige of
column or capital must appear in any part of the edifice. All should be
pure, but all should be English; and there should be here, as elsewhere,
much of the utilitarian about the whole, suited to the cultivated
country in which it is placed.

248. It will never do to be speculative or imaginative in our details,
on the supposition that the tendency of fine scenery is to make
everybody imaginative and enthusiastic. Enthusiasm has no business with
Turkey carpets or easy-chairs; and the very preparation of comfort for
the body, which the existence of the villa supposes, is inconsistent
with the supposition of any excitement of mind: and this is another
reason for keeping the domestic building in richly productive country.
Nature has set aside her sublime bits for us to feel and think in; she
has pointed out her productive bits for us to sleep and eat in; and, if
we sleep and eat amongst the sublimity, we are brutal; if we poetize
amongst the cultivation, we are absurd. There are the time and place for
each state of existence, and we should not jumble that which Nature has
separated. She has addressed herself, in one part, wholly to the mind;
there is nothing for us to eat but bilberries, nothing to rest upon but
rock, and we have no business to concoct picnics, and bring cheese, and
ale, and sandwiches, in baskets, to gratify our beastly natures, where
Nature never intended us to eat (if she had, we needn't have brought the
baskets). In the other part, she has provided for our necessities; and
we are very a