old detail, and play of sun
and shadow, animate and accentuate the picture, is a matter for a person
on the spot, and turning swiftly on his heels, to grasp and bind
together in one comprehensive look. It is the character of such a
prospect, to be full of change and of things moving. The multiplicity
embarrasses the eye; and the mind, among so much, suffers itself to grow
absorbed with single points. You remark a tree in a hedgerow, or follow
a cart along a country road. You turn to the city, and see children,
dwarfed by distance into pygmies, at play about suburban doorsteps; you
have a glimpse upon a thoroughfare where people are densely moving; you
note ridge after ridge of chimney-stacks running downhill one behind
another, and church spires rising bravely from the sea of roofs. At one
of the innumerable windows, you watch a figure moving; on one of the
multitude of roofs, you watch clambering chimney-sweeps. The wind takes
a run and scatters the smoke; bells are heard, far and near, faint and
loud, to tell the hour; or perhaps a bird goes dipping evenly over the
housetops, like a gull across the waves. And here you are in the
meantime, on this pastoral hillside, among nibbling sheep and looked
upon by monumental buildings.

Return thither on some clear, dark, moonless night, with a ring of frost
in the air, and only a star or two set sparsely in the vault of heaven;
and you will find a sight as stimulating as the hoariest summit of the
Alps. The solitude seems perfect; the patient astronomer, flat on his
back under the Observatory dome and spying heaven's secrets, is your
only neighbour; and yet from all round you there come up the dull hum of
the city, the tramp of countless people marching out of time, the rattle
of carriages and the continuous jingle of the tramway bells. An hour or
so before, the gas was turned on; lamplighters scoured the city; in
every house, from kitchen to attic, the windows kindled and gleamed
forth into the dusk. And so now, although the town lies blue and
darkling on her hills, innumerable spots of the bright element shine far
and near along the pavements and upon the high facades. Moving lights of
the railway pass and re-pass below the stationary lights upon the
bridge. Lights burn in the Jail. Lights burn high up in the tall _lands_
and on the Castle turrets; they burn low down in Greenside or along the
Park. They run out one beyond the other into the dark country. They walk
in a proce