made by more acute observers than myself.

Look at that beetle-browed, solemn looking mansion with a ponderous
hat-roof--I mean of slates, garnished with bay windows--observe its
heavy jaws of areas, its hard, close mouth of a door; its dark, deep
sunken eyes of windows peering out from the heavy brow of dark stone
coping that supports the slate hat in question: what a contrast to
the spruce mock gentility of its neighbour, with a stand-up collar of
white steps, a varnished face, and a light, jaunty, yet stiff air,
like a city apprentice in his best clothes.

See the cap on the temple of that Chinese Mandarin, poking above yon
clump of firs, with its bell furniture; he seems pondering on the
aphorisms of Confucius, regardless of that booby faced conservatory,
whose bald, rounded pate glitters in the sun. Ah! what have we here; a
spruce masquerader in yellow straw hat, trying to look rural with as
much success as a reed thatched summer house. Stand in this quiet nook
a few hours, and give us the shadow of your mushroom covering.

There is a poor, forlorn wretch with his rags fluttering about him
like a beggar--give him a penny--he must be in distress--look at
his shattered face and dilapidated form; shored up upon crutches,
tottering on the brink of the sewers--shores I mean--of eternity;
behold his crushed and crownless hat--his hollow eyes--his rheumy
visage--look at that petition penned on his breast. Poh! 'tis a
surveyor's notice to pull down. But, then, look at that plurality
parson with rotund prominence of portico, and red brick cheeks of vast
extent, and that high, steeple-crowned hat--look at the smug, mean,
insignificant dwarf of a meeting-house, sinking up to its knees in a
narrow lane, and looking as blank as a wall, with a trap-door of a