above his poverty and physical weakness, whose lays have given at least a local immortality to the lovely scenes in his own neighbourhood. I allude to the late Mr. George Heath, and refer to his poem on Rudyard, a lake near Leek, where a loved object mingled with his day dreams and night visions, and in which the susceptibility of beauty and the power of association are strikingly expressed.

"Glorious Rudyard; gorgeous picture,
How I love to gaze on thee,

Ever fraught with sunny memories,
Ever beautiful to me.

"Whether blushing Spring enwrap thee
In its robe of virgin pride,
Whether golden Summer steep thee
In its mellow gushing tide;

"Whether drooping Autumn flood thee
With its dreamy chastened light,
Whether chilly Winter drape thee
In its vest of spotless white;

"Whether storms sweep grandly o'er thee,
Light or gloom their charms impart,
Ever grand, sublime, majestic,

Ever beautiful thou art."

Beauty then consists in grace and loveliness of form or colour;-it is an assemblage of such properties of bodies as please the eye and agree with our natural perceptions; we must now inquire what those properties are.

ON

CHAPTER III.

ELEMENTS OF BEAUTY.

SECTION I.

NE characteristic of beautiful objects is, that they are Small. Great objects belong to the sublime. The late learned and devout Mr. Hewitson, of Scotland, said, "The beautiful is the shadow of God's loveliness; the sublime is the shadow of God's majesty." Sometimes we see the blending of the two, as at the Falls of Niagara, or in a grand sunset or sun-rising by the sea-side, when every mountain is radiant with glory, and every little crested wavelet tipped with crimson. So have I seen them at Scarborough, by the old Castle in the northern bay. Neither the word beauty nor sublimity expresses the full idea of the scene; it is the rich vision of both, and we naturally exclaim, gazing on such a landscape, "It is sublimely beautiful."

A fine example of this is the Giant's Causeway, in the north of Ireland. The savage grandeur of the lofty and innumerable basaltic columns forming the organ and amphitheatre, is softened and smoothed into beauty by lichens and grasses.

It affords me great pleasure here to quote the graphic words in which the late venerable Dr. Dixon, who visited Niagara in 1848, has recorded his impressions of that magnificent scene. "Our path across

Goat Island brought us close to the American Fall. I sat down on the roots of a tree on a level with the crest of the cataract, and almost near enough to touch the waters with my foot. My companion, who had often seen these wonders of nature previously, left me alone, and amused himself by walking across the Island. I sat silent and motionless a long time, looking with a sort of vacant astonishment on the whole scene. The thoughts, ‘It is grand! It is sublime! It is awful!' crossed my mind, but nothing definite had fixed itself there; all remained in the same confusion, chaos, stupefaction. At length, as if awaking from a dream, I exclaimed, 'How beautiful!' And then, in a moment, a thrill ran through my soul like an electrical shock, which at once scattered the mists; and I exclaimed, loud enough to have been heard, 'Ah, yes, that is it, that is it, it belongs to the beautiful!' This was a new idea, a revelation, and transformed the whole scene in an instant into perfect unity and glory.

"With this general notion, this new instrument, I began to examine the several objects aroundendeavoured to analyse, to separate the elements, to watch the extraordinary movements of the liquid machine which was moving so majestically around me; and yet, at the same time, to combine, to grasp the whole. Is beauty compatible with sublimity? Can the two attributes exist in one and the same object? Must the sublime be necessarily devoid of the beautiful? Must the beautiful be destitute, per se, of the sublime? These are questions which have engaged the attention of great authorities.

Generally speaking, they seem to have entertained the notion, that the ideas are incompatible; that the beautiful and the sublime belong to distinct and separate departments, whether of nature or of thought; and that no union, no harmony, no concord of circumstances, can blend the beautiful, with the sublime or the sublime with the beautiful, constituting them one and the same object. We venture to differ from these authorities; and our proof, our demonstration, is, the Falls of Niagara.

"No one doubts as to their sublimity: the grandeur of the scene is too palpable, too imposing, too overwhelming, to admit of doubt on this point. The subject admits not of reasoning, it is a matter of mere sensation. No human being ever beheld these wonders without doing homage to this sentiment. Many have, probably, been unable to comprehend their own sensations as they have looked upon the astonishing phenomena; but they have felt their power, and been subdued into reverence and awe. It seemed almost impossible for me to stir for a great length of time; an irresistible fascination seizing all my faculties, as if overshadowed by the presence of a mystic power, whose voice was heard in the thunder of many waters, as well as His majesty seen in the grandeur of every object around.

"But the sensations of pleasure and happiness are produced by the beautiful: and, at the time, I considered Niagara as the most sublimely beautiful object my eye ever beheld."*

*"Methodism in America," p. 83.

It was remarked by Burke, that in most languages the objects of love are spoken of under diminutive epithets.. "These diminutives were commonly added by the Greeks to the names of persons with whom they conversed on terms of friendship and familiarity. Though the Romans were a people of less quick and delicate feelings, yet they naturally slid into the lessening termination upon the same occasions. Anciently in the English language the diminishing ling was added to the names of persons and things that were objects of love. Some we retain still, as darling (or little dear), and a few others. But to this day in ordinary conversation it is usual to add the endearing name of little to things we love. The French and Italians make use of these affectionate diminutives even more than we. In the animal creation, it is the small we are inclined to be fond of-little birds, and some of the smaller kind of beasts. A great beautiful thing, is a manner of expression scarcely ever used; but that of a great ugly thing, is very common."+

Let me guard against possible misconstruction. On one occasion, in Yorkshire, at this point of my lecture, a little lady looked up into the face of a tall lady, and by word and motion indicated that I had pronounced her, the little lady,-to be beautiful, and the tall one ugly; I said no such thing. To То prevent such unpleasant mistakes, let me hasten to say little ladies are beautiful; and tall, noble-looking ladies, handsome.

† Burke: "The Sublime and Beautiful," p. 121.