I repeat that in landscape arrangements alone is the physical nature susceptible of exaltation, and that, therefore, her susceptibility of improvement at this one point, was a mystery I had been unable to solve.  My own thoughts on the subject had rested in the idea that the primitive intention of nature would have so arranged the earth’s surface as to have fulfilled at all points man’s sense of perfection in the beautiful, the sublime, or the picturesque; but that this primitive intention had been frustrated by the known geological disturbances —­ disturbances of form and color —­ grouping, in the correction or allaying of which lies the soul of art.  The force of this idea was much weakened, however, by the necessity which it involved of considering the disturbances abnormal and unadapted to any purpose.  It was Ellison who suggested that they were prognostic of death.  He thus explained:  —­ Admit the earthly immortality of man to have been the first intention.  We have then the primitive arrangement of the earth’s surface adapted to his blissful estate, as not existent but designed.  The disturbances were the preparations for his subsequently conceived deathful condition.

“Now,” said my friend, “what we regard as exaltation of the landscape may be really such, as respects only the moral or human point of view.  Each alteration of the natural scenery may possibly effect a blemish in the picture, if we can suppose this picture viewed at large —­ in mass —­ from some point distant from the earth’s surface, although not beyond the limits of its atmosphere.  It is easily understood that what might improve a closely scrutinized detail, may at the same time injure a general or more distantly observed effect.  There may be a class of beings, human once, but now invisible to humanity, to whom, from afar, our disorder may seem order —­ our unpicturesqueness picturesque, in a word, the earth-angels, for whose scrutiny more especially than our own, and for whose death —­ refined appreciation of the beautiful, may have been set in array by God the wide landscape-gardens of the hemispheres.”

In the course of discussion, my friend quoted some passages from a writer on landscape-gardening who has been supposed to have well treated his theme: 

“There are properly but two styles of landscape-gardening, the natural and the artificial.  One seeks to recall the original beauty of the country, by adapting its means to the surrounding scenery, cultivating trees in harmony with the hills or plain of the neighboring land; detecting and bringing into practice those nice relations of size, proportion, and color which, hid from the common observer, are revealed everywhere to the experienced student of nature.  The result of the natural style of gardening, is seen rather in the absence of all defects and incongruities —­ in the prevalence of a healthy harmony and order —­ than in the creation of any special wonders or miracles.  The artificial style has as many varieties as there