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power, and to his great gifts as a stylist. Few men of 

 science have had graces of style. In Darwin it is 

 lacking, and he has himself set on record that literature 

 and art had ceased for him to exert any influence, and 

 that a mere novel had become the highest form of 

 intellectual amusement. Hutton needed a Playfair to 

 make him intelligible, as Dugald Stewart was needed 

 for the exposition of Reid. But it is this power that 

 will keep Miller alive. His views upon the Old Red 

 Sandstone, on the Noachian Deluge, on the Mosaic 

 Cosmogony, may be right or wrong. But they have the 

 sure merit of abiding literature, and men highly en- 

 dowed with this gift have a lasting and assured fame. 

 Mr. Lowell has declared Clough to be the true poet of 

 the restlessness of the later half of the century, and 

 Tennyson to be but its pale reflex. But the answer is 

 ready and invincible : Tennyson is read, and Clough is 

 already on the shelf. As a piece of imaginative writing, 

 The Old Red Sandstone is not likely to be soon sur- 

 passed in its own line. ' I would give,' we find Buckland 

 declaring, 'my left hand to possess such powers of 

 description as this man has.' ' There is,' says Carlyle, 

 ' right genial fire, everywhere nobly tempered down 

 with peaceful radical heat, which is very beautiful to 

 see. Luminous, memorable; all wholesome, strong, fresh, 

 and breezy, like the " Old Red Sandstone " mountains 

 in a sunny summer day.' We doubt if a single page of 

 Sedgwick, or of Buckland even in his Bridgewater 

 Treatise, be read at least as literature. But a man, 



