It is not the oak, the ash, or the elm, or any of the robust trees of the forest which we consider as beautiful; they are awful and majestic, they inspire a sort of reverence.

It is the delicate myrtle, it is the orange, it is the almond, it is the jasmine, it is the vine which we look on as vegetable beauties.

It is the flowery species, so remarkable for its weakness and momentary duration, that gives us the liveliest idea of beauty and elegance.

Among animals, the greyhound is more beautiful than the mastiff, and the delicacy of a jennet, a barb, or an Arabian horse, is much more amiable than the strength and stability of some horses of war or carriage.

I need here say little of the fair sex, where I believe the point will be easily allowed me.