It is
well that, where every plant is wild and every torrent free, every field
irregular in its form, every knoll various in its outline, one is not
startled by well built walls, or unyielding roofs, but is permitted to
trace in the stones of the peasant's dwelling, as in the crags of the
mountain side, no evidence of the line or the mallet, but the operation
of eternal influences, the presence of an Almighty hand. Another
perfection connected with its ease of outline is, its severity of
character: there is no foppery about it; not the slightest effort at any
kind of ornament, but what nature chooses to bestow; it wears all its
decorations wildly, covering its nakedness, not with what the peasant
may plant, but with what the winds may bring. There is no gay color or
neatness about it; no green shutters or other abomination: all is calm
and quiet, and severe, as the mind of a philosopher, and, withal, a
little somber. It is evidently old, and has stood many trials in its
day; and the snow, and the tempest, and the torrent have all spared it,
and left it in its peace, with its gray head unbowed, and its early
strength unbroken, even though the spirit of decay seems creeping, like
the moss and the lichen, through the darkness of its crannies. This
venerable and slightly melancholy character is the very soul of all its
beauty.
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