le, which seems in the same degree to accord with
the ideas of beauty only: it is that smile which proceeds from a mind
full of sweetness and sensibility, and which, when it is over, still
leaves on the countenance its mild and amiable impression; as after the
sun is set, the mild glow of his rays is still diffused over every
object. This smile, with the glow that accompanies it, is beautifully
painted by Milton, as most becoming an inhabitant of heaven:

To whom the angel, with a smile that glow'd
Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue,
Thus answered."

The great object in the above Essays, is to improve the laying out of
grounds by studying the productions "of those great artists _who have
most diligently studied the beauties of nature_. On this subject he has
in these volumes poured forth the effusions of his richly gifted mind,
in his contemplation of the works of those really great painters, whose
landscape scenery, from the most rural to the grandest, "have been
consecrated by long uninterrupted admiration." Instead of the narrow,
mechanical practice of a few English gardeners, or layers-out of
grounds, he wishes "the noble and varied works of the eminent painters
of every age, and of every country, and those of _their_ supreme
mistress NATURE, should be the great models of imitation."[105] He has
supported many of his opinions or observations, or embellished or
enlivened them, by acute allusions, not only to Milton but to
Shakspeare, whom he calls "that most original creator, and most accurate
observer."[106]

He has depicted his own mind in p. 378 of the first volume of his
Essays; for after lamenting that despotic system of improvement which
demands all to be laid open,--all that obstructs to be levelled to the
ground,--houses, orchards, gardens, all swept away,--nothing tending to
humanize the mind--and that a despot thinks every person an intruder who
enters his domain, wishing to destroy cottages and pathways, and to
reign alone, he thus proceeds:--"Here I cannot resist paying a tribute
to the memory of a beloved uncle, and recording a benevolence towards
all the inhabitants around him, that struck me from my earliest
remembrance; and it is an impression I wish always to cherish. It seemed
as if he had made his extensive walks as much for them as for himself;
they used them as freely, and their enjoyment was his. The village bore
as strong marks of his and of his brother's attentions (for in that