hands, escaped with indecorous facility through a simple hole in the
flat roof. The dignity of smoke, however, is now better understood, and
it is dismissed through Gothic pinnacles, and (as at Burleigh House)
through Tuscan columns, with a most praiseworthy regard to its comfort
and convenience. Let us consider if it is worth the trouble.

62. We advanced a position in the last paper, that silence is never
perfect without motion. That is, unless something which might possibly
produce sound is evident to the eye, the absence of sound is not
surprising to the ear, and, therefore, not impressive. Let it be
observed, for instance, how much the stillness of a summer's evening is
enhanced by the perception of the gliding and majestic motion of some
calm river, strong but still; or of the high and purple clouds; or of
the voiceless leaves, among the opening branches. To produce this
impression, however, the motion must be uniform, though not necessarily
slow. One of the chief peculiarities of the ocean thoroughfares of
Venice, is the remarkable silence which rests upon them, enhanced as it
is by the swift, but beautifully uniform motion of the gondola. Now,
there is no motion more uniform, silent or beautiful than that of
smoke; and, therefore, when we wish the peace or stillness of a scene to
be impressive, it is highly useful to draw the attention to it.

63. In the cottage, therefore, a building peculiarly adapted for scenes
of peace, the chimney, as conducting the eye to what is agreeable, may
be considered as important, and, if well managed, a beautiful
accompaniment. But in buildings of a higher class, smoke ceases to be
interesting. Owing to their general greater elevation, it is relieved
against the sky, instead of against a dark background, thereby losing
the fine silvery blue,--which among trees, or rising out of a distant
country, is so exquisitely beautiful,--and assuming a dingy yellowish