destroyed;—the only question being whether the sacrifice is necessary. Such, however, is not the case. On the contrary, there appear to be not a few people who can contemplate the proposed changes without a shadow of regret; who can see no charm in the shore—fashioned and fitted by the mighty but gentle changes of ages to be the setting of its gem-like mere—the loss of which would not be abundantly compensated by the creation of a bigger sheet of water; and who fancy that Mr. Bateman's embankment, when 'sprinkled with a few boulders,' will form a charming adjunct, and possibly attractive rival, to Raven Crag.
With persons of this temper it would obviously be hopeless to argue: to show them the transcending loveliness of Nature would be about as easy as to prove, off hand, the greatness of Shakespeare to a man who can 'see nothing in him.' The expressed opinions of such people so plainly manifest their incompetence to form a right judgment of the matter that they are not likely to have much weight with thoughtful persons. These will ask themselves whether it be wise, except under the compulsion of inevitable necessity to mar the face of Nature, in a district the loveliness of which has a value to the Nation at large, exceeding a hundredfold the commercial price of its surface.
There are several considerations which should weigh with us in pronouncing an opinion. In the first place, we have to consider, not ourselves only, but the interests of those who will come after us. The sentiment of beauty in Nature, and the love of mountain scenery, have been much developed of late years, and are likely to increase in power and importance. Much that is hurtful and destructive has been done, both to Nature and Art, in the hurry and excitement
