to bring the veins of a cabbage leaf, the folds of a lace veil,
the wrinkles of an old woman's face, nearer and nearer to
perfection. In the time which he employs on a square foot of
canvas, a master of a different order covers the walls of a
palace with gods burying giants under mountains, or makes the
cupola of a church alive with seraphim and martyrs. The more
fervent the passion of each of these artists for his art, the
higher the !merit of each in his own line, the more unlikely it
is that they will justly appreciate each other. Many persons,
who never handled a pencil, probably do far more justice to
Michael Angelo than would have been done by Gerard Douw, and far
more justice to Gerard Douw than would have been done by Michael
Angelo.

It is the same with literature. Thousands, who have no spark of
the genius of Dryden or Wordsworth, do to Dryden the justice
which has never been done by Wordsworth, and to Wordsworth the
justice which, we suspect, would never have been done by Dryden.
Gray, Johnson, Richardson, Fielding, are all highly esteemed by
the great body of intelligent and well informed men. But Gray
could see no merit in "Rasselas," and Johnson could see no merit
in "The Bard." Fielding thought Richardson a solemn prig, and
Richardson perpetually expressed contempt and disgust for
Fielding's lowness.

Mr. Crisp seems, as far as we can judge, to have been a man
eminently qualified for the useful office of a connoisseur. His
talents and knowledge fitted him to appreciate justly almost
every species of intellectual superiority. As an adviser he was
inestimable. Nay, he might probably have held a respectable rank