of absolute faith; and, last of all, to the throes
of agony of the noble Moor, as he writhes and gasps in his accursed
toils.

To these mixed modes may be added another branch, which we shall term the
class of Imputed Attributes. In this class are concerned all those natural
objects with which we connect (not by individual association, but by a
general law of the mind) certain moral or intellectual attributes; which
are not, indeed, supposed to exist in the objects themselves, but which,
by some unknown affinity, they awaken or occasion in us, and which we, in
our turn, impute to them. However this be, there are multitudes of objects
in the inanimate world, which we cannot contemplate without associating
with them many of the characteristics which we ascribe to the human being;
and the ideas so awakened we involuntarily express by the ascription of
such significant epithets as _stately, majestic, grand_, and so on. It is
so with us, when we call some tall forest stately, or qualify as majestic
some broad and slowly-winding river, or some vast, yet unbroken waterfall,
or some solitary, gigantic pine, seeming to disdain the earth, and to hold
of right its eternal communion with air; or when to the smooth and
far-reaching expanse of our inland waters, with their bordering and
receding mountains, as they seem to march from the shores, in the pomp of
their dark draperies of wood and mist, we apply the terms _grand_ and
_magnificent_: and so onward to an endless succession of objects,
imputing, as it were, our own nature, and lending our sympathies, till the
headlong rush of some mighty cataract suddenly thunders upon us. But how
is it then? In the twinkling of an eye, the outflowing sympathies ebb back
upon the heart; the whole mind seems severed from earth, and the awful
feeling to suspend the breath;--there is nothing human to which we can
liken it. And here begins another kind of emotion, which we call Sublime.

We are not aware that this particular class of objects has hitherto
been noticed, at least as holding a distinct position. And, if we
may be allowed to supply the omission, we should assign to it the
intermediate place between the Beautiful and the Sublime. Indeed,
there seems to be no other station so peculiarly proper; inasmuch as
they would thus form, in a consecutive series, a regular ascent from
the sensible material to the invisible spiritual: hence naturally
uniting into one harmonious whole every possible