are different tastes to gratify.  It has a certain general relation to the various styles of building.  There are the stately avenues and retirements of Versailles; Italian terraces; and a various mixed old English style, which bears some relation to the domestic Gothic or English Elizabethan architecture.  Whatever may be said against the abuses of the artificial landscape —­ gardening, a mixture of pure art in a garden scene adds to it a great beauty.  This is partly pleasing to the eye, by the show of order and design, and partly moral.  A terrace, with an old moss —­ covered balustrade, calls up at once to the eye the fair forms that have passed there in other days.  The slightest exhibition of art is an evidence of care and human interest.”

“From what I have already observed,” said Ellison, “you will understand that I reject the idea, here expressed, of recalling the original beauty of the country.  The original beauty is never so great as that which may be introduced.  Of course, every thing depends on the selection of a spot with capabilities.  What is said about detecting and bringing into practice nice relations of size, proportion, and color, is one of those mere vaguenesses of speech which serve to veil inaccuracy of thought.  The phrase quoted may mean any thing, or nothing, and guides in no degree.  That the true result of the natural style of gardening is seen rather in the absence of all defects and incongruities than in the creation of any special wonders or miracles, is a proposition better suited to the grovelling apprehension of the herd than to the fervid dreams of the man of genius.  The negative merit suggested appertains to that hobbling criticism which, in letters, would elevate Addison into apotheosis.  In truth, while that virtue which consists in the mere avoidance of vice appeals directly to the understanding, and can thus be circumscribed in rule, the loftier virtue, which flames in creation, can be apprehended in its results alone.  Rule applies but to the merits of denial —­ to the excellencies which refrain.  Beyond these, the critical art can but suggest.  We may be instructed to build a “Cato,” but we are in vain told how to conceive a Parthenon or an “Inferno.”  The thing done, however; the wonder accomplished; and the capacity for apprehension becomes universal.  The sophists of the negative school who, through inability to create, have scoffed at creation, are now found the loudest in applause.  What, in its chrysalis condition of principle, affronted their demure reason, never fails, in its maturity of accomplishment, to extort admiration from their instinct of beauty.