only depends on number; and how often might they be made tributary to present use by judicious studies of their contents; by epitomes of their matter; or by selections which would at least be found more interesting than their catalogues, or the rows of costly binding and gilded titles, which resemble the escutcheon on the lid of an entombed coffin. We have seen the work of a painter's brush that represented whole rows of books, in which the shadows that separated the shelves were of as much value as the semblance of the books themselves. It would be as well to possess such a library of literary cenotaphs, as a vast multitude of inaccessible volumes, only to be consulted by the worms which finally will destroy them. It is pleasant to travel even over accustomed scenes with an intelligent companion; who not only points out the succession of interesting objects, but indulges in occasional reflections, gathering amusement and instruction at every step. This constitutes the true value of travel, which otherwise is too much like the silent study of a map, abounding in facts, but barren of sentiment. We are all travellers in the journey of life; but travellers of a social disposition, depending much on the assistance of each other, and delighting in the intercourse of our fellow mortals. We are amused by the variety, instructed by the experience, and gratified by the attentions of those we meet, or the mutual indications of objects worthy of our regard. As a traveller, I have thus sought companionship in the sentiments, descriptions, and works of others; and only open my Portfolio to such as are willing to look into it, in the hope that it may subserve the cause of taste and virtue, and at least be received with indulgence. R. P. PORTFOLIO OF AN ARTIST. SOUL OF BEAUTY. Ir is, methinks, a low and degrading idea of the sex, which was created to refine the joys, and soften the cares of humanity, by the most agreeable participation, to consider them merely as objects of sight. This is abridging them of their natural extent of power, to put them upon a level with their pictures at Kneller's.* How much nobler is the contemplation of beauty, heightened by virtue, and commanding our esteem and love, whilst it draws our observation! How faint and spiritless are the charms of a coquette, when compared with the real loveliness of Sophronia's innocence, piety, good-humour, and truth; virtues which add a new softness to her sex, and even beautify her beauty! That agreeableness which must, otherwise, have appeared no longer in the modest virgin, is now preserved in the tender mother, the prudent friend, and the faithful wife. Colours, artfully spread upon canvass, may entertain the eye, but not affect the heart; and she who takes no care to add to the natural graces of her person any excelling qualities, * The fashionable portrait painter in the reign of Charles II. may be allowed still to amuse as a picture, but not to triumph as a beauty. When Adam is introduced by Milton, describing Eve in Paradise, and relating to the angel the impressions he felt upon seeing her at her first creation, he does not represent her like a Grecian Venus, by her shape or features, but by the lustre of her mind which shone in them, and gave them their power of charming: "Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye! In all her gestures dignity and love!” Without this irradiating power, the proudest fair one ought to know, whatever her glass may tell her to the contrary, that her most perfect features are uninformed and dead. I cannot better close this moral, than by a short epitaph written by Ben Jonson, with a spirit which nothing could inspire but such an object as I have been describing. "Underneath this stone doth lie As much virtue as could die; Hughes. POET OF NATURE. THEN Nature's charms his heart possessed, And Nature's glory filled his breast: Meridian Summer's youthful blaze, And hoary Winter's midnight wild, |