clear, precise, and simple. The author lays down, in a few plain words, the proposition which he is going to illustrate throughout the rest of the paragraph. In this manner we should always set out. A first sentence should seldom be a long, and never an intricate one.

He might have said, Our sight is the most perfect and the most delightful. But he has judged better, in omitting to repeat the article the. For the repetition of it is proper chiefly when we intend to point out the objects of which we speak, as distinguished from, or contrasted with, each other; and when we want that the reader's attention should rest on that distinction. For instance; had Mr. Addison intended to say, That our sight is at once the most delightful, and the most useful, of all our senses, the article might then have been repeated with propriety, as a clear and strong distinction would have been conveyed. But as between perfect and delightful, there is less contrast, there was no occasion for such repetition. It would have had no other effect, but to add a word unnecessarily to the sentence. He proceeds:

It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas, converses with its objects at the greatest distance, and continues the longest in action, without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoyments.

This sentence deserves attention, as remarkably harmonious and well constructed. It possesses, indeed, almost all the properties of a perfect sentence. It is entirely perspicuous. It is loaded with no superfluous or unnecessary words. For, tired or satiated, towards the end of the sentence, are not used for synonymous terms. They convey distinct

ideas, and refer to different members of the period; that this sense continues the longest in action without being tired, that is, without being fatigued with its action; and also, without being satiated with its proper enjoyments. That quality of a good sentence which I termed its unity, is here perfectly preserved. It is our sight of which he speaks. This is the object carried through the sentence, and presented to us in every member of it, by those verbs, fills, converses, continues, to each of which it is clearly the nominative. Those capital words are disposed of in the most proper places; and that uniformity is maintained in the construction of the sentence, which suits the unity of the object.

Observe, too, the music of the period; consisting of three members, each of which, agreeably to a rule I formerly mentioned, grows, and rises above the other in sound, till the sentence is conducted, at last, to one of the most melodious closes which our language admits; without being tired or satiated with its proper enjoyments. Enjoyments is a word of length - and dignity, exceedingly proper for a close which is designed to be a musical one. The harmony is the more happy, as this disposition of the members of the period, which suits the sound so well, is no less just and proper with respect to the sense. It follows the order of nature. First, we have the variety of objects mentioned, which sight furnishes to the mind; next, we have the action of sight on those objects; and lastly, we have the time and continuance of its action. No order could be more natural or happy.

This sentence has still another beauty. It is figurative, without being too much so for the subject. A metaphor runs through it. The sense of sight is,

in some degree, personified. We are told of its conversing with its objects; and of its not being tired or satiated with its enjoyments; all which expressions are plain allusions to the actions and feelings of men. This is that slight sort of Personification, which, without any appearance of boldness, and without elevating the fancy much above its ordinary state, renders discourse picturesque, and leads us to conceive the author's meaning more distinctly, by clothing abstract ideas, in some degree, with sensible colours. Mr. Addison abounds with this beauty of Style beyond most authors; and the sentence which we have been considering, is very expressive of his manner of writing. There is no blemish in it whatever, unless that a strict Critic might perhaps object, that the epithet large, which he applies to variety the largest variety of ideas, is an epithet more commonly applied to extent than to number. It is plain, that he here employed it to avoid the repetition of the word great, which occurs immediately afterwards.

The sense of feeling can, indeed, give us a notion of extension, shape, and all other ideas that enter at the eye, except colours; but at the same time, it is very much straitened and confined in its operations, to the number, bulk, and distance of its particular objects.

This sentence is by no means so happy as the former. It is, indeed, neither clear nor elegant. Extension and shape can, with no propriety, be called ideas; they are the properties of matter. Neither is it accurate, even according to Mr. Locke's philosophy (with which our author seems here to have puzzled himself,) to speak of any sense giving us a notion of ideas; our senses give us the ideas themselves. The meaning would have been much more clear, if the

Author had expressed himself thus: "The sense of "feeling can, indeed, give us the idea of extension, figure, and all the other properties of matter which "are perceived by the eye, except colours."

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The latter part of the sentence is still more embarrassed. For what meaning can we make of the sense of feeling being confined in its operations, to the number, bulk, and distance of its particular objects? Surely, every sense is confined, as much as the sense of feeling, to the number, bulk, and distance of its own objects. Sight and feeling are, in this respect, perfectly on a level; neither of them can extend beyond its own objects. The turn of expression is so inaccurate here, that one would be apt to suspect two words to have been omitted in the printing, which were originally in Mr. Addison's manuscript; because the insertion of them would render the sense much more intelligible and clear. These two words are, with regard: it is very much straitened, and confined, in its operations, with regard to the number, bulk, and distance of its particular objects. The meaning then would be, that feeling is more limited than sight in this respect; that it is confined to a narrower circle, to a smaller number of objects.

The epithet particular, applied to objects, in the conclusion of the sentence, is redundant, and conveys no meaning whatever. Mr. Addison seems to have used it in place of peculiar, as indeed he does often in other passages of his writings. But particular and peculiar, though they are too often confounded, are words of different import from each other. Parti cular stands opposed to general; peculiar stands opposed to what is possessed in common with others. Particular expresses what in the logical Style is called

Species; peculiar what is called differentia. Its peculiar objects would have signified in this place, the objects of the sense of feeling, as distinguished from the objects of any other sense; and would have had more meaning than its particular objects. Though, in truth, neither the one nor the other epithet was requisite. It was sufficient to have said simply, its objects.

Our sight seems designed to supply all these defects, and may be considered as a more delicate and diffusive kind of touch, that spreads itself over an infinite multitude of bodies, comprehends the largest figures, and brings into our reach some of the most remote parts of the universe.

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Here again the Author's Style returns upon us in all its beauty. This is a sentence distinct, graceful, well arranged, and highly musical. In the latter part of it, it is constructed with three members, which are formed much in the same manner with those of the second sentence, on which I bestowed so much praise. The construction is so similar, that if it had followed immediately after it, we should have been sensible of a faulty monotony. But the interposition of another sentence between them prevents this effect.

It is this sense which furnishes the imagination with its ideas; so that by the pleasures of the Imagination or Fancy (which I shall use promiscuously) I here mean such as arise from visible objects, either when we have them actually in our view; or when we call up their ideas into our minds by painting, statues, descriptions, or any the like occasion.

In place of, It is this sense which furnishesthe Author might have said more shortly, This