first is no part of the architecture; and the others, though frequently exquisitely beautiful, are not essential; but no Unitarian, as such, would object to their adoption. 4. Communion of Saints. Representations of angels and figures of saints occur in stained glass, on monuments, in niches, &c.; but they form no essential part of the architecture, and may, by those who object to them, be dispensed with altogether. But though the architecture might be complete without figures of any kind, yet it cannot be denied that sculptured figures, when properly introduced, are a very great adornment, especially when placed in ornamental niches. The above are the main instances of symbolism; but every portion of a church, even to the minutest details, is supposed by some to have had its appropriate symbolical meaning. In some instances, these were both beautiful and expressive, as the idea of the pillars in a church typifying the apostles and doctors; but, in the majority of cases, the allusions were both fanciful and obscure. Few can fail to perceive that, with a few obvious exceptions, the symbolical allusions, supposed to belong to particular forms in the ancient churches, especially when the ideas said to be symbolized are not of obvious and undoubted truth,-have attached themselves to previously-existing forms which appeared accidentally to suggest the ideas subsequently said to be typified by them. In truth, however, Pointed architecture is symbolical; but not of any peculiar theological dogmas of this or that particular church, ancient or modern, but of the glorious and fundamental truths of the Christian faith, as held by all true Christian believers alike. It expresses their common belief, hope, trust and aspiration, and is the common property of all who have the eye to discern its beauties, the mind to understand its wondrous science, and the heart to feel its glorious significance. But still, notwithstanding these numerous recommendations, it may be said that the Pointed style belongs, after all, to a former and different age, and that, in the whole history of art, no instance is known of a successful revival of a style of architecture which had once become totally disused. The fact is undoubted; but if we are to admit the argument founded upon it, we are placed in the dilemma of either dispensing with architectural style altogether, or inventing a totally new one for ourselves; for all known styles are known only by their remains, and have all passed away, equally with the Gothic, together with the circumstances which called them forth. We imagine no one will be bold enough to recommend the latter alternative, unless he is prepared to say at the same time on what principles it is to be constructed. Besides, the mere fact of the Pointed style having been for a time disused and even despised, is not of itself sufficient to condemn it, unless this can be shewn to have been the result of inherent imperfection. This, however, cannot be done; on the contrary, its downfal can be clearly traced to a combination of extraneous circumstances, among which the most influential were probably-first, a tendency on the part of the church builders to an excessive ornamentation and elaboration of detail, with a general departure from original purity and grandeur of design in main features. Contemporaneously with this, the laity were beginning to emerge from their state of ignorance, chiefly in consequence of the invention of printing; and, by increased industry and skill, to acquire greater wealth and power, which caused them to feel a desire to emancipate themselves from the influence of the priesthood, under which they had so long lain, and which they now began to feel as an intolerable burden.* With such causes at work, it is not surprising that the fraternity of the free-masons, so intimately associated with the clergy, should have also been degraded, and deprived of their power and privileges. But their destruction involved also the utter loss to the world of their profound knowledge and consummate skill in the art of building, as well as of the oral and written descriptions of their intricate and wonderful system. In the absence, then, of a style of architecture free from all possible objections, we can only adopt that which appears on the whole to offer the greatest advantages with the least objectionable qualities, and which is most capable of adapting itself to our altered circumstances. But this adaptation can only be effected by a careful study of the examples remaining from past ages. As the true artist goes to Nature, not for models but for lessons, so must we take our instructions from the remains of antiquity. From them we must extract the genius and inner principle of life of this glorious style, and on it as a foundation build in accordance with our own wants and circumstances. As Lord Lindsey has beautifully said (in reference to the study of the old masters of painting), "planting ourselves as acorns in the ground those oaks are rooted in, and growing up to their level."+ Working in this spirit, there can be no reason why we may not give birth to a new species of this great genus, bearing the impress of, and handing down to posterity, the character and genius of our time. If such new style, so much desired by some, is at all possible, the road to it must lie in the direction of that old one, the inner principle of which is acknowledged by all to be the most perfect. In conclusion, then, on all the grounds above stated,-for its reality, its truthfulness, its origin, its associations, its sublimity Hope's Essay on Architecture, ch. xliv. + History of Christian Art, Vol. III. p. 419. or its lowliness, its magnificence or its simplicity, its capability of infinite modification,-there is no style of ecclesiastical architecture which can compare with the Pointed or Gothic for the use of the Christian church. And if we believe that the Unitarian system is a faithful embodiment of the spirit of that church, then the architecture which best accords with the spirit of Christianity must be pronounced to be at the same time "best adapted to the requirements, and most consonant with the spirit, of the Unitarian church." JOHN DALTON.* IT is one of the levelling tendencies of this railway age to render less marked the characteristic differences between men, in regard to outward manifestation at least, and hence also, to some extent, in regard to mental qualities themselves. The facility and frequency of communication and the rapid diffusion. of intelligence are doing much to make Londoners of us all, to remove the provincial peculiarities of manner and mind which prevailed when men dwelt in more secluded circles. The aspect of our social state is losing much of the picturesque variety by which it was formerly diversified. It is becoming more and more rare to meet with what are called "characters,"-selfformed men of quaint, grotesque simplicity and originality, presenting a piquant contrast to the technical correctness and uniform propriety of men trained in every respect comme il faut. Hence biographies of such men possess a peculiar value, as preserving some memorials of a social characteristic that the onward sweep of civilization and intelligence is effacing from us for ever. He was emi Such a man was the celebrated John Dalton. nently an original. Born in the bracing air of the Cumberland hills, accustomed from his earliest childhood to simple and hardy habits of life, called upon from the first to rely on his own powers, he led a strictly independent career of investigation and discovery, and attained a widely-extended and brilliant reputation as a profound philosopher, singularly contrasting with the Etruscan simplicity of his personal wants and the unvarying routine of his daily pursuits. We have somewhere seen it asserted that natural philosophers, as a class, live longer than metaphysicians and theologians, owing to the calm, healthful, regular and unexciting, though deeply interesting, studies of • Memoirs of the Life and Scientific Researches of John Dalton, D.C.L., LL.D., F.R.S., &c. &c. By William Charles Henry, M.D., F.R.S., &c. &c. Svo. Pp. 249. London-printed for the Cavendish Society. 1854. the former, as contrasted with the anxious, perplexing and feverish worry to which the investigations of the latter are liable. Without attempting to test the general truth of the remark, we may cite Dalton as a case in point. Both mind and body were utterly free from the slightest morbid tinge. The healthful breezes of his native hills seemed to follow his spirit through life. He lived almost without illness, preserving his faculties nearly unimpaired till the age of 70, and died peacefully and without pain as he was approaching the close of his 78th year. No man ever manifested less interest in metaphysical and theological disquisitions. The quiet atmosphere of the Friends' meeting-house which he regularly attended, was strictly symbolic of the undemonstrative and unquestioning calmness of his simple faith. His was not even a poetical temperament. Though he had a fondness for mountain scenery which imparted a picturesque character to his meteorological investigations, he could not have applied to his own youth the lines of Wordsworth (which he probably never read), "The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest The volume now under our notice, drawn up by Dr. Henry at the request of the Cavendish Society and printed for them, is the first memoir of Dalton that has appeared in print, with the exception of brief notices in periodical and other works, particularly a most eloquent, lucid and instructive article by Dr. G. Wilson in the first volume of the British Quarterly Review. The author in his Preface explains the long delay as having arisen from an unwillingness on the part of the late Mr. Peter Clare (Dalton's almost inseparable companion and acting exe-. cutor) to give up the papers in his possession without having some share in the authorship of the memoir. Dr. Dalton's will, however, clearly pointing to Dr. W. C. Henry as his literary executor, the latter felt it to be his duty to take upon himself the undivided charge of doing honour to the memory of his friend and his father's friend; nor could the work have fallen into worthier or more appropriate hands than those of Dalton's distinguished and accomplished pupil, the son of a distinguished and accomplished friend. We may here venture to add our testimony, from our own recollection, to the cordial esteem and appreciation of the late Dr. Henry for the genius and merits of his simple and almost uncouth friend. Himself a man of highly cultivated intellect, polished manners and exquisite taste, besides being as remarkably skilful and accurate an experimenter as Dalton was the reverse, he yet thoroughly appreciated his great and original powers, and was ever ready (as passages quoted in the present volume shew) to enforce his claims to public recognition and reward, by the chaste but earnest eloquence of his own graceful and classic pen. John Dalton was born on the fifth of September, 1766, at the village of Eaglesfield, near Cockermouth in Cumberland. This village is said to contain the first meeting-house established by the Society of Friends in England, to which Society his grandfather attached himself. His family are known to have resided there for three previous generations. They belonged to the class of small landed proprietors, called "statesmen" in the Lake district, a class now almost extinct. Dalton was chiefly selftaught, and manifested from the first a strong tendency to mathematical calculation. When about ten years old, his curiosity was excited by a dispute among some mowers, as to whether sixty square yards and sixty yards square were the same. At first he thought they were, but after-reflection shewed him they were not. From a memorandum drawn up by himself, it appears that he attended village schools till eleven years of age, at which period he had gone through a course of mensuration, surveying, navigation, &c.; about the age of twelve, he actually began to teach the village school, and continued it two years; afterwards he was occasionally employed in husbandry for a year or more; at fifteen, he removed to Kendal as assistant in a boarding-school, in which capacity he remained three or four years; then became principal of the school for eight years. Whilst at Kendal, he employed his leisure in studying Latin, Greek, French and Mathematics, with Natural Philosophy. The school at Kendal for members of the Society of Friends was carried on by his cousin, George Bewley, with his brother, Jonathan Dalton, for an assistant, and the two brothers afterwards conducted it together. In a printed notice, a copy of which is preserved, it is promised that "youth will be carefully instructed in English, Latin, Greek and French; also writing, arithmetic, merchants' accounts, and the mathematics." The terms at first did not exceed 10s. 6d. per quarter, but were raised, in 1811, to 15s., with an apologetic hope that a small advance (in consideration of the increased price of the nccessaries of life) would not be thought unreasonable. The school, which contained about sixty boys and girls, was not very popular, owing to the uncouth manners of the young masters, and the stern severity of the elder brother. John Dalton was the favourite teacher, partly from his gentler disposition, and partly because he was so much occupied with his mathematical studies that the children's faults escaped his notice. During his residence in Kendal, he was a frequent and successful contributor to the Lady's and Gentleman's Diaries, proposing and solving many of the mathematical and philosophical ques |