246.  The grand outline must be designed on exactly the same principles; for the curvilinear proportions, which were opposition before, will now be assimilation.  Of course, we do not mean to say that every villa in a hill country should have the form a b c d; we should be tired to death if they had:  but we bring forward that form as an example of the agreeable result of the principles on which we should always work, but whose result should be the same in no two cases.  A modification of that form, however, will frequently be found useful; for, under the depression h f, we may have a hall of entrance and of exercise, which 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