caprice; in this process discovery and invention have had their proper influence, uninterrupted by any conservative prejudice or by any theory of design which does not rest directly on practical considerations. But, as I have already observed, this admirable and prolific progress has not carried with it a corresponding progress in grace and beauty of design. In fact, these qualities seem to appear in an inverse proportion to the development of the structural scheme towards the practical idea of strength, stability, and economy. Consequently the stronger, the more rigid, the more economical the structure, the more uncompromising and the more hopeless it seems to be in respect to beauty. The modern steel-girder or cantilever bridge, while, according to our present knowledge, it is perfectly adapted to its uses and functions, is in nearly every case an offence to the landscape in which it occurs. Its lines, since they have ceased to be structural curves, have become hard and ascetic mathematical expressions, and have not been brought into any sympathy whatever with the natural lines of the stream which it crosses, of the opposite banks which it connects, of the meadows, forests, and mountains among which it is placed. All sylvan effects of harmony are shocked by its discordant intrusion. The vast aqueducts of the Romans, the arched bridges of stone, the catenary curves of the modern suspension bridges with their high towers, and some forms of bridges constructed with bowstring girders, are more or less affiliated with the natural conditions, so that they give no shock, save frequently of pleasure at their expression of grace and fitness. But we are assured that these structural forms are obsolete or are becoming obsolete, and that the straight bridge-truss spanning from pier to pier, the cantilever overhanging the perilous abyss, the pivoted draw-span, all constructed with cold geometrical precision, with hard unfeeling lines of tension and compression, have taken their place, to the great advantage of the railroads and the greater security of the public. It is in vain that the conscientious engineer occasionally attempts to compromise with grace by ornamenting his intersections by rosettes or buttons of cast iron, or by rearing a sort of arch or portal of triumph at the entrance to his bridge with a lavish display of metal shell-work, scrolls of forged iron, and tables cast and gilded with names and dates. But the compromise comes too late; the main essential lines cannot be condoned by afterthoughts of this sort; and as far as the eye can see, these lines, though they may satisfy the reason, generally affront the sense of beauty.

Now it seems to me important to note that the methods of nature always culminate in infinite expressions of beauty, and that beauty is an essential part of the principles of natural growth. The Great Creator never makes anything, animate or inanimate, ugly in making it strong or swift or durable, or in fitting it to the economy of nature. Grace is a part of the system of creation. Is it reserved for man in his secondary creation to make things unlovely in proportion to their complete and perfect adaptation to the satisfaction of his practical needs? Is this difference significant of some quality which is wanting in our science?