It is with feelings somewhat closely bordering upon trepidation that, availing myself of the liberty given by the regulations recently passed by the Council of the Royal Academy, I venture to address you on a subject which has never, till now, been more than incidentally touched upon within these walls; a subject, indeed, dear to my heart, and entwined among my inmost thoughts and affections, but one which, perhaps for that very reason, I feel it the more difficult to bring before you through the medium of a lecture. It may be at first sight imagined that love, of all the human feelings, is that best calculated to aid in describing the beauties of its object, and in advocating its claims upon the admiration; but it is not so. We can hardly state the reasons why we love our parents or our brothers. We know that it is a feeling which has grown with our growth, and is a part of our very existence; yet it is probable that an acquaintance who has never shared in these warmer sentiments might describe their character and even their virtues more successfully than ourselves. If we seek to investigate them, we find the research all too cold and too methodical to accord with the tone of our feelings; and, like the poet who wished to sing of the Atrides and of Cadmus, the chords of our hearts respond only of love. So it is with those who have harboured an early affection for the architecture of their native land. Strongly as I appreciate the intrinsic beauty of the monuments of classic antiquity, and the merits of very many works of the Revival, I should doubt whether it were possible for any unsophisticated youth, before studying their architecture as a science, to entertain towards its productions in this country any feelings bordering upon real affection. He may see in them much to admire--much to lead him to study the art which has produced them; and this study will, no doubt, often kindle those warmer feelings which ripen into love. But this is a very different feeling from that deep and filial affection which many a youth, untaught in art, but gifted by nature with a perception of its beauties, has entertained from his tenderest years towards the old churches of his neighbourhood, and which has impelled him to walk from village to village, not only under the balmy influences of summer, but along muddy roads or snowy paths, and, with glowing heart but shivering hand, to sketch the humble porch, the unaspiring steeple, and the mutilated though venerable monument, with feelings of indescribable delight.