that he shall be reproached with the crudity or the brightness of his house, and so makes the lamentable choice of dark bricks. But there is nothing more unreasonable than this perpetual complaint of the newness of new houses. Let the owner of a new house have the courage of his date. Let him be persuaded that a new house ought to look new, that the Middle Ages in their day looked as new and tight as a box of well-made toys, that he is bound to pay the debt of his own time, and that the light of the sky asks for recognition, for signals and conspicuous replies from the dwellings of men.
Let the mere white-washer, too, whose work is generally beneficent, and who has received undeserved reproaches for a long time now, let him beware of chillling his pail with blue tinges. The coastguard huts on the Cornish coast would be the better if their common touch of blue were forbidden them.
All this advice is, I know well, inexpert, and backed by no learning. But it is urged with care and with comparison of countries by one who, in search of roofs and intent upon colours, has, in the remarkable words of Walt Whitman, "journeyed considerable."
