112 SPARKS FROM A GEOLOGIST'S HAMMER. 



The most exquisite attempts of the painter have not re- 

 produced her tints and tones and shadows. The most 

 ideal efforts of the sculptor have not conferred warmth 

 and softness and life upon the cold marble. The most 

 divine eloquence has not portrayed the depth of feeling 

 and purpose in the fathomless spirit of her eyes. The 

 most angelic muse has not given expression to the native 

 poetry of her movements. She is the spirit of painting, 

 and sculpture, and eloquence, and poetry, incarnate. She 

 is the arch-triumph of all the arts in a single achieve- 

 ment. 



It seems to me that such a creature should be happy 

 with her possessions and her prerogatives. 



This supreme expression of beauty, it must be observed, 

 is not, after all, the product of purely physical qualities. 

 This highest beauty is never discovered save when the 

 reflex of a cultured soul blends in the features of the 

 face. Mere physical beauty of person we recognize and 

 admire, but supreme, commanding beauty receives its 

 crown and halo from the radiant soul within. A cul- 

 tured mind gives charm to the face, and a gentle and 

 disciplined and benignant heart shines winningly through 

 features which are not of classic mould. 



Hear what one of the closest of modern observers of 

 human nature writes of one of his ideal characters: 



" There is a beauty too spiritual to be chained in a 

 sti'ing of items ; and Julia's fair features were but the 

 china vessel that brimmed over with the higher loveli- 

 ness of her soul. Her essential charm was, what shall 

 we say? Transparence. 



" You would have said her very body thought." 



