form was not only displaced, but completely reversed, by the revolting discovery of a moral discrepancy.  But while we admit, on the threshold, that the Correspondence in question cannot be sustained as universally obvious, it is, nevertheless, not apprehended that this admission can affect our argument, which, though in part grounded on special cases of actual coincidence, is yet supported by other evidences, which lead us to regard all such discrepancies rather as exceptions, and as so many deviations from the original law of our nature, nay, which lead us also rationally to infer at least a future, potential correspondence in every individual.  To the past, indeed, we cannot appeal; neither can the past be cited against us, since little is known of the early history of our race but a chronicle of their actions; of their outward appearance scarcely any thing, certainly not enough to warrant a decision one way or the other.  Should we assume, then, the Correspondence as a primeval law, who shall gainsay it?  It is not, however, so asserted.  We may nevertheless hold it as a matter of faith; and simply as such it is here submitted.  But faith of any kind must have some ground to rest on, either real or supposed, either that of authority or of inference.  Our ground of faith, then, in the present instance, is in the universal desire amongst men to realize the Correspondence.  Nothing is more common than, on hearing or reading of any remarkable character, to find this instinctive craving, if we may so term it, instantly awakened, and actively employed in picturing to the imagination some corresponding form; nor is any disappointment more general, than that which follows the detection of a discrepancy on actual acquaintance.  Indeed, we can hardly deem it rash, should we rest the validity of this universal desire on the common experience of any individual, taken at random,—­provided only that he has a particle of imagination.  Nor is its action dependent on our caprice or will.  Ask any person of ordinary cultivation, not to say refinement, how it is with him, when, his imagination has not been forestalled by some definite fact; whether he has never found himself involuntarily associating the good with the beautiful, the energetic with the strong, the dignified with the ample, or the majestic with the lofty; the refined with the delicate, the modest with the comely; the base with the ugly, the brutal with the misshapen, the fierce with the coarse and muscular, and so on; there being scarcely a shade of character to which the imagination does not affix some corresponding form.