Even the horizontal and curved lines of Architecture have their especial records; for they state the time in the history of the Arts, when they were erected, even without a sculptured cipher;--for the level lines of the Cyclopean and Egyptian walls, with their attendant apertures, give certain knowledge that they were erected _before_ the principle of the Grecian _arch_ was known or practised. Sculpture has a more harmonious voice than that of her stern consort;--the graceful bride, whose rock-ribbed cradle amid the Parian hills--whose virgin youth reposed upon the halcyon marble of Pentelicus, has a voice of warm, yet chaste simplicity,--her tones are as sweet, as from lips first nourished on Hymettus' Hill; yet at times they speak with all the solemnity of her consort, around whom she fondly clings, as the ivy around the oak; and like that plant and tree, the sculpture-vine preserves for ages the character of the marble monarch of the Arts, even after his broad-spreading authority has been broken and humbled to the earth by Time and Desolation; or these two destroying powers may be viewed as the Regan and the Goneril, while Architecture is the Lear, and Sculpture the Cordelia of the Arts! Even as a note of music struck from a chord of Nature vibrates to the heart, in like manner does the voice of Sculpture reach and echo around the walls of Life: it is Poetry's diapason--it speaks of God and His works--of Man in his intellect and glory--of Woman in her charity and beauty: it speaks a language which the unlettered may translate, while to her more subdued or secret tones, the disciples of her heavenly power have but to listen, or behold _her action of utterance_, as developed in her free or drapered limbs, to give the history of her thoughts; nor have those thoughts or attitudes, chaste as the marble they inhabit, ever been conquered by lust or luxury,--that unworthy conquest was reserved for the false disciples of her faith, yet not over herself, but her fair handmaid--Painting. But Architecture and Sculpture have lived on--severe and chaste, stern and graceful, majestic and beautiful--as when they were first created from the Eden of the mind! No sword of wrath has driven them forth to wander as outcasts; but as Messengers of Peace they have visited every clime; they have raised their temples and cities in every land, subjected to one power only--the insatiate monster of the earth, Time--the twin-born with Creation, and who will be the last mourner of Nature and her name! Yet even when their children have been struck down--like Niobe's, by the shafts of fate--still how beautiful in Ruins! Although prostrate upon the earth, yet even in death, they have voices as speaking from the tomb:--but the Parents still live on, ever young and immortal, and can point to the proud remains of their fallen Children, and with the voice of historic truth proclaim their fadeless epitaph and character.