very handsome, or very ugly; in gauze and feathers, or in rags. Again, if we speak of a picturesque scene or building, it is equally uncertain whether it be of a hollow lane, a heathy common, an old mill or hovel, or, on the other hand, a scene of rocks and mountains, or the ruin of some ancient castle or temple. We can, indeed, explain what we mean by a few more words; but whatever enables us to convey our ideas with greater precision and facility, must be a real improvement to language. The Italians do mark the union of beauty with greatness of size or character, whether in a picture or any other object, by calling it, una gran bella cosa; I do not mean to say that the term is always very accurately applied, but it shews a strong tendency to such a distinction. But in English, were we to add any part of the word picturesque to handsome, or ugly, or grand, though such composed words would hardly be more uncouth than many which are received into the language, they would be sufficiently so, to place a very formidable barrier

of ridicule between them and common use: to invent new terms, supposing the object of sufficient consequence, is perhaps still more open to ridicule. Mr. Burke decided in favour of the word delight, to express a peculiar sense of pleasure arising from a peculiar cause: but the sense to which we are accustomed, is perpetually recurring during his essay; and out of it, the word of course returns to its general meaning: had he risqued an entirely new word, and had it withstood the first inevitable onset of ridicule, and grown into use, the English language would have owed one more obligation to one of its greatest benefactors.

PART II.

HAVING now examined the chief qualities that in such various ways render objects interesting; having shewn how much the beauty, spirit, and effect of landscape, real or imitated, depend upon a just degree of variety and intricacy, on a due mixture of rough and smooth in the surface, and of warm and cool in the tints; having shewn too, that the general principles of improving are in reality the same as those of painting-I shall next inquire how far the principles of the last-mentioned art (clearly the best qualified to improve and refine our ideas of nature) have been attended to by improvers: how far also

those who first produced, and those who have continued the present system were capable of applying them, even if they had been convinced of their importance.

It appears from Mr. Walpole's very ingenious and entertaining treatise on modern gardening, that Kent was the first who introduced that so much admired change from the old to the present system; the great leading feature of which change, and the leading character of each style, are very aptly expressed in half a line of Horace:

Mutat quadrata rotundis.

Formerly, every thing was in squares and parallellograms; now every thing is in segments of circles, and ellipses: the formality still remains; the character of that formality alone is changed. The old canal, for instance, has lost, indeed, its straitness and its angles; but it is become regularly serpentine, and the edges remain as naked and as uniform as before: avenues, vistas,