_The two not always proportional._--Not only are the two principles distinct, but not always do they exist in equal proportion and development in the same mind. Persons of the liveliest sensibility are not always, perhaps not generally, persons of the nicest taste. The child, the uneducated peasant, the negro, are as highly delighted with beautiful forms and beautiful colors as the philosopher, but could not tell you so well why they were moved, or what it was, in the object, that pleased them; neither would they discriminate so well the truly beautiful from that which is not worthy of admiration. If there may be sensibility without taste, so, on the other hand, a high degree of taste is not always accompanied with a corresponding degree of sensibility. The practised connoisseur is not always the man who enjoys the most at sight of a fine picture. The skillful musician has much better taste in music than the child that listens, with mingled wonder and delight, to his playing; but we have only to glance at the countenance of each, to see at once which feels the most. _Sensibility not inconsistent with Taste._--I should not, however, infer from this, that a high degree of sensibility is inconsistent with a high degree of taste. This was Mr. Stewart's opinion. The feeling, he would say, will be likely to interfere with the judgment, in such a case. Doubtless; where the feeling is highly wrought upon and excited, it may, for the time, interfere with the cool and deliberate exercise of the judgment. Yet, nevertheless, if sensibility be wanting, there will not be likely to be much taste. If I feel no pleasure at sight of a beautiful landscape or painting, I shall not be likely to trouble myself much about its comparative merits or defects. It is useless, in such a case, to inquire what pleases me, or why I am pleased, when, in truth, nothing pleases me. There is no motive for the exercise of judgment in such a case, neither is there an opportunity for its action. The very foundation for such an exercise is wanting. A lively sensibility is the basis of a correct taste, the ground on which it must rest, the spring and life of its action. The two are related somewhat as genius and learning which are not always found in equal degree, yet are by no means inconsistent with each other. There may be a high degree of mental strength and activity, without corresponding acquisitions; yet there can hardly be learning without some degree of mental power and activity. There may be sensibility without much taste, but hardly much taste without sensibility. Taste is, in a great measure, acquired, cultivated, an art; sensibility, a native endowment. It may be developed, strengthened, educated, but not acquired. Genius produces, sensibility admires, taste judges or decides. Their action is reciprocal. If taste corrects and restrains the too ready or too extravagant sensibility, the latter, on the other hand, furnishes the