eralization pointed out to Newton those conceptions which led to most of his discoveries, and also gave rise to many suggestions which were not proved to be discoveries until more than a century after his death. In his experiments on light, he observed that the refracting power of different bodies was in proportion to their combustibility, and that the diamond possessed the former power in an unusual degree. Applying this law to this particular case, he was led to conceive that the diamond itself might be combustible. Though a mineral, and the hardest of known substances, he disregarded these accidents, and, boldly generalizing his idea, predicted a discovery which only a few years since has been established. 3. In the works of a great artist, there is always to be observed a manner peculiar to himself, which a true connoisseur will readily detect. We call this peculiarity the style of an author or an artist. It is derived from the intellectual and moral character of the individual, and is that which renders his outward works the index of his inward and spiritual mind. It is natural to suppose that this peculiarity should be apparent in the works of the Creator. There is a speciality in his mode of treating subjects, a style which designates all the works of his hand. He who, by deep and profound reflection on the works of God, has become most familiar with the laws of that which we call nature, and with the relations which these laws sustain to each other, will be the most likely to penetrate into the unknown, and originate those conceptions which lead to the discovery of truth. The further he advances in his investigations, the richer will be the field of discovery that opens before him. If I may be allowed, I will use an illustration which I once employed when treating on this subject. "Suppose I should present before you one of the paintings of Raphael, and, covering a part of it with a screen, ask you to proceed with the work, and designate where the next lines should be drawn. It is evident that none but a painter ever need make the attempt, and that, of painters, he would be the most likely to succeed who was best acquainted with the genius of Raphael, and had most thoroughly meditated on the manner in which that genius manifested itself in the work before him. So, of the system of the universe. We see but in part; all the rest is hidden from our view. He will, however, most readily discover where the next lines are drawn who is most thoroughly acquainted with the character of the author, and has observed with the greatest accuracy the manner in which that character is displayed in that portion of the system which he has revealed to us. It is evident, also, that just in proportion as the work advanced, and portion after portion of the screen was removed, just in that proportion would the difficulty of completing the whole be diminished.”—Discourse on the Philosophy of Analogy. If these remarks be true, they throw some light upon the subject of education. The power of forming conceptions which shall lead to discovery in science, or to the practicable in action, is clearly of vast importance. Can this power be cultivated? On this question there can be no doubt. It steadily increases with the progress of the human mind. We naturally inquire whether the cultivation of this element of intellectual character has been regarded with sufficient attention by those who form our courses of higher education. A large part of the studies which we pursue add very little to our power of forming conceptions of any character whatever. A larger infusion of the study of physical science, not merely as a collection of facts, but as a system of laws, with their relations and dependencies, would be of great value in this respect. We thus study the ideas and conceptions of the Creator. We become ac quainted with his manner of accomplishing his purposes and learn, in some measure, the style of the Author of all things. Surely, this habit of mind must be of unspeakable value to a philosopher in the discovery of truth, or to a man of affairs in devising his plans, since these can only succeed as they are in harmony with the designs of infinite wisdom and benevolence. "There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them as we will." REFERENCES. Nature of hypothesis - Reid, Essay 1, chap. 3. CHAPTER VII1. TASTE. SECTION I. THE NATURE OF TASTE. WE have now considered the most important of those powers of the human mind which may be strictly termed intellectual; that is, which are employed in the acquisition and increase of knowledge. By the use of these we might prosecute our inquiries in every direction, and extend the limits of science, as far as it has been permitted by our Creator. But were this all, we should be deprived of much of the innocent pleasure which accompanies the employment of our faculties, and thus lose an important inducement to mental cultivation. We find that many of the phenomena which we observe, are to us a source of happiness, frequently of an exquisite character. This happiness is bestowed upon us through means of another endowment, which we denominate taste. It is so intimately associated with the faculties purely intellectual, that our view of them would be imperfect did we not bestow upon it at least a brief examination. Taste is that mental sensibility by which we cognize the beauties and deformities of nature and art,— enjoying pleasure from the one, and suffering pain from the other. In this definition we speak of taste as a sensibility, rather than a faculty. A faculty is the power of doing something, of putting forth some act, or accomplishing some change. Such is not the nature of taste. It creates no change. It merely recognizes its appropriate object, and is the seat of the subjective emotion to which the object gives exercise. When an object is presented, taste recognizes its æsthetic quality; it is sensible of pleasure or pain, and here its office terminates. Of the universality of this endowment there cannot be a question. The consciousness of every man bears testimony to its existence. When we look upon a rainbow, we are sensible of an emotion wholly different from that with which we look upon the dark cloud which it overspreads. The cause of the emotion we call the beauty of the rainbow, and the emotion itself we recognize as one of a peculiar character, unlike any other of which we are conscious. We observe that all men are affected by a multitude of objects in the same manner as ourselves. Young and old, cultivated and uncultivated, observe this quality in many of the same objects, and are affected by them in the same manner. It is not asserted, however, that all men recognize the quality of beauty in the same things, or that all men are conscious of the same intensity of æsthetic emotion. These may vary by association and culture. What is here affirmed, is, that all men, in various degrees, are conscious of the pleasure derived from the observation of objects which they term beautiful, and that there are objects, which all men of the same or a similar degree of culture, designate by this epithet. Hence, particular scenes have been, by all observers, denominated beautiful or sublime. Hence, descriptions of localities or events have been transmitted from age to age, from nation to nation, and from language to language, ever awakening the emotions to which they at first owed their celebrity. Anacreon's ode to Spring, Homer's description of a storm in the Ægean, Horace's Fountain of Brundu |