When it is considered that articulate sounds or words are the types of ideas, and that written characters are the types of articulate sounds or words, it is evident that all the qualities of the latter must be circumscribed by the former, as the type cannot exceed its archetype. Accordingly we find, that the charms of style, in the writers of all ages and countries, have arisen from the beauty of the language spoken in those countries; and the beauty of language arose not from chance, but culture; for it is not time, but care, that will bring a language to perfection. If time alone would do, those of the most barbarous nations in the world, ought to be superior to those of the most civilized, as they are infinitely more ancient. It was to the constant pains and labour, the study and application successively given by the choicest wits, and men of brightest parts in each age, to the improvement and establishment of their native tongues, that we owe those two glorious languages of Greece and Rome, which have justly been the wonder of the world, and which will last to the end of time. And is it not owing to the excellence of their languages, that the noble works of their writers have been preserved? Had Demosthenes written his orations in such a language as High Dutch, or Virgil his poems in such a one as Irish or Welsh, their names would not long have outlived themselves. That the state of all the more elegant and beautiful compositions, and the effects which they are capable of producing, must chiefly depend upon the art of speaking, may be clearly deduced from considering the nature and ends of such writings. By the art of writing, sentiments can be communicated, either through the eye only, or through the eye and ear together, to individuals; or through the ear only to numbers; the first of these, by silent reading, the other two, by reading aloud. In the first instance, ideas of things are excited by written words, as the symbols of words spoken; and by association, the idea of the sounds also which accompany those words. Now at the best, supposing the ideas of the properest sounds, were always to be associated by the silent reader, the effect of any composition must be much weaker than if it were spoken, as far as ideas fall short of realities. But if, through ignorance in the art of speaking, or through vicious habits, he annexes the ideas of wrong sounds and tones to the words, it is impossible he can perceive the true force and beauty of the composition, so far at least as they depend upon sound and tone. To trace this custom, therefore, to its original, may not only be a matter of curiosity, but, by shewing the weakness of its foundation, tempt us to abolish it, and substitute a nobler one in its room.