seen had hitherto inspired. We cannot measure the extent of our feelings of the sublime, by calculating the dimensions of any object; it is the effect, and not the cause, that furnishes the criterion of sublimity; and there is often in the arrangements of nature, something which produces a feeling independent of magnitude and dimensions, either by its simplicity, its aspect, its appearance of eternal duration, or its immeasurable superiority over similar works of man.

This is peculiarly the case with the Natural Bridge, which unites all those sources of the sublime. Its simplicity is admirable—it is one single blue, whiteveined arch, unbroken and unornamented; its aspect is that of severe and adamantine hardness-unbroken by a single fissure, and indicating a duration without end-while its name and its uses cause a direct comparison between this lofty work of nature and the works of art erected for similar purposes. The result of this comparison, which crosses the mind quick as lightning, is a feeling of the sublime, more definite than that caused by the contemplation of natural objects, which do not challenge this direct and inevitable comparison with the productions of art. All the views of the Natural Bridge that I have seen are utterly deficient in conveying a tolerable idea of the general aspect and expression of this admirable scene, which seems calculated to mortify the pride of man, by proving that neither his imagination or his art is capable of conveying even a remote idea of its majestic beauty.

Some leaden genius, I know not who, has erected

a little wooden sentry-box on the top of the bridge, about the centre of the arch, and intersected it by a canvas tube reaching from the top to the bottom, thus destroying the unity of effect both above and below. His object was to make shot, although I am told there is no lead within half a thousand miles, except what may, peradventure, be detected in that part of his skull where other people's brains are usually found.

On our return, mine host played us a tune on the fiddle; beat Oliver at backgammon; cracked a joke or two upon cicerone; gave us a stout dinner, and packed us off right merrily on our way. By-theby, a traveller ought never to laugh till he gets to the end of his day's journey, as there is no knowing what may happen, by the way. A proof of this is, we got caught in a shower before we arrived at Lexington, and were in such a hurry to get there, that we missed admiring a very charming country until next morning, when the fog was so thick, that I am credibly informed a west country wagoner, in crossing over the Blue Ridge, ran plump into the face of the blessed sun, and gave him a sore bruise. This explains the veritable cause of the spot which has given so much uneasiness, as I perceive, to the supervisors of that glorious luminary. Farewell. I expect to find a letter from you at Staunton.

DEAR FRANK,

LETTER XXVII.

OUR worthy friend, brother Jonathan, though a pretty high-spirited independent fellow in most respects, has a mortal hankering after Johnny Bull's cast-off clothes. Whenever John throws off an old coat, or a worn-out pair of breeches, nothing will do but Jonathan must put them on, and strut about from Boston to Georgia, to show off his second-hand finery. So with my lady, Mrs. Jonathan, who copies Mrs. Bull in all her fashionable equipments. This imitative habit is the strongest proof of a want of original genius that can be, and produces the most ridiculous inconsistencies, both in dress and in much more important matters. Ever since it was unaccountably found out there was such a wonderful resemblance between the constitution of an English hereditary monarchy, and an American democratic elective republic, our political doctors draw all their nostrums from the practice of British schools; without considering whether the stimulating prescription that will serve to revivify for awhile an old worn-out system, may not very likely prove highly injurious to a healthy and youthful constitution. It would be well for these statesmen, I think, to dip a little now and then into a certain "Inquiry" of John Taylor, of

Caroline, and consider whether that system, the complete triumph of which has impoverished a people, and made millions of beggars, is founded upon a basis of wisdom so immutable as they would lead us to believe.

It is an easy matter for a congressional orator to quote Pitt, or Burke, in support of his argument;— this requires nothing but a good memory. But it would be much better, though not quite so easy, to look this country in the face, study her aspect, her wants, her peculiar advantages and disadvantages, and then to form his political system on these; and not, as is the fashion of the times, on inapplicable precedents, and examples not possessing a single feature of analogy. Edmund Burke exhibited inconsistencies in his political opinions, that, if they do not impeach his virtue, at least call in question his wisdom; for a virtuous man seldom-a wise one never -flies to opposite extremes. In the meridian of his manlier intellect, when he produced the masterpieces of his genius, he was a friend to the rights of the people, and an opponent to the prerogatives of the king. But in his old age, when grown timid, avaricious, and poor withal, he changed his opinions, and fancied he had become wise, when he had only become unfeeling. Men often grow wise in this way, by losing all the noble and disinterested feelings of youth, rather than by gaining any accession of wisdom. With some people, wisdom is only selfishness. This dunce-like attachment to old standing rules, which time, or change of circumstance or situation

have rendered inapplicable, extends even to inquiries respecting matters in which a man's own individual feelings alone are concerned, and which the tribunal of his own breast ought alone to decide. Even here brother Jonathan must needs resort to English authority, and inquire what Edmund Burke did or said on the occasion, rather than consult his own feelings as to what is becoming in him to do. Nay, if Johnny Bull becomes religious, brother Jonathan must become so too; if one sends missionaries to the Brahmins, the other must go about begging for the same purpose; if one affects to encourage the fine arts, the other must have his academies ;-and if the one institutes societies for remedying in some degree those tremendous inequalities of wealth, and extremes of poverty, brought about by the abuses of an old system, the other must say "ditto to Mr. Burke,” and follow the fashion, though no such inequalities exist here to make it necessary; and if it is the fashion abroad to make dumb men mighty philosophers, be sure it will take in this country. Those who laugh in their sleeves are content to be silent, knowing that absurdities which, if let alone, would soon die a natural death, often become eternal by opposition.

But what renders all this mighty ridiculous is, that it is but second-hand finery, which we only get when they are sick of it abroad. There was a German shoemaker Jew, who turned Christian, it is said, and preached in London, to the great delight of the old ladies, and the old gentlemen in petticoats. They grew tired of his stupidity and ignorance at last