by the riches of one, he will quick- | Jerusalem, when he wandered ly be delighted with the pensive-away by the brook of the field, or ness of the other. Study will give the plains of the wilderness, when him all her books, and Retirement he retired to his chamber, and conduct him to all her bowers. In communed with his heart, then he no ramble, will he experience formed those noble associations, more delight than when he roves and composed those exquisite perthrough the healthful wood, or formances, which will transmit his saunters through the tranquil clois- name, with renown, to the remoter, with Retirement on his right test posterity. hand, and Study on his left. Though their guise is exceedingly modest, though their conversation has no resemblance to loquacity, though their best attire is from no other wardrobe than that of sweet Simplicity, still they will always gain more regard from the wiser, than all the pageants of the pompous, and all the plumage of the

vain.

The Royal Psalmist, from whose divine odes, I have transcribed my text, was himself a memorable example of the utility of retirement, reflection, and self-communion. It will be remembered, that he was a warriour, a statesman, a man of business, and a man of the world. In these various characters, though he often acquitted himself excellently well, yet unfortunately, in some flagrant instances, we perceive how much he was tainted by the infection of the world. But when he shuts his eyes against the glare of Ambition, and the gaze of Beauty, when he ceases to touch the harp of Fascination, and forsakes the Cabinet and the Camp, then we recognize, at once, the scholar, the philosopher, and the poet. the caves of Engedi, he is a mere soldier, in the palace of Saul, a servile musician, in the cave of Adullam, a skulking fugitive, and in the forest of Hareth, an unhappy exile. But when he tore himself away from the thraldom of care, the bustle of business, and the din of

In

My Lord Bacon, Sir Walter Raleigh, Erasmus, Grotius, Mr. Addison, and Mr. Locke, together with a great multitude of illustrious men, have been deeply involved in the cares of publick business, as well as engrossed by the meditations of the closet. But forthe fairest portion of their glorious fame, how much are they indebted to the latter! While the chancery decrees of Sir Francis Bacon moulder away in the hands of some Master of the Rolls, the experiments of his study, and the Essays of his wit, like certain exquisite paintings, grow brighter by Time. While we peruse, with still renewing pleasure, Raleigh's History of the World, his unlucky politicks are scarcely regarded. Mr. Addison was Secretary of State, and Grotius an ambassadour; but who inquires for the despatches of the one, or is interested by the negociations of the other? The fame of Erasmus, constantly immersed in the turmoil of his times, and engrossed by cares, civil and ecclesiastick, would have perished. with the names of those miserable monks, whom he has derided, or those imperious princes, whom he has courted. But by sometimeswisely withdrawing himself from the cabals of a court, and the polemicks of the Church, by meditating on horseback, and in his chamber, by avarice of time, by intenseness of application, and ardour of genius, he has filled ten folios, composed in

the purest Latinity, where an indo-
lent reader can find nothing too
prolix, and where a critical reader
can discover nothing to reprehend.
The foolish politicks of ADDISON
are scarcely remembered, even by
his faction. The character of
LOCKE, as a man of business, is
painted with no other pencils than
those of ridicule, and the diploma-
cy of Grotius, and of Sir William
Temple are utterly contemned; but
their literary and philosophical
works, the beauteous offspring of
RETIREMENT and STUDY, WILL
CONTINUE to charm,

'Till Time, like him of Gaza, in his wrath,
Plucking the pillars that support the world,
In Nature's ample ruins lies entombed,
And midnight, universal midnight! reigns.

|

sylvan groves. In many a metropolis, resounding with the din of Commerce, and crowded with the throng of Nations, Contemplation has had her fill. Though a sublime poet, in a fit of rural enthusiasm, has exclaimed,

Hide me from Day's garish eye,

yet it would be alike dangerous and delusive to believe, that we cannot speculate at noon, as well as at night. In short, the choice of time or place is not essential, but the formation of habits of selfsequestration, and the acquisition of the precious power of withdrawing the mind from all external objects.

As, in Dr. Johnson's phrase, I am often wakefully disturbed, at Though in the text we are ad- midnight, and as I have not wholmonished to commune with our-ly forgotten my boyish attachment selves, in our chamber, yet it to woods and meadows, I acknowwould be a very partial and nar-ledge that I often commune with row interpretation, if it were concluded that we could not meditate anywhere else. The secrecy of a closet, and the stillness of midnight, are, unquestionably, propitious to the powers of reflection. But other places, and other seasons may be selected for that salutary discipline, which the Psalmist recommends. It is a vulgar errour to suppose, that retirement and contemplation are never to be found, except in a forest, or a desert, a cell, or a cloister. In the thronged mart, and in the blaze of day, he who has inured himself to habits of abstraction, may commune with himself, as though he was in his chamber. Proofs of this abound in many a page of the records of literature. Some of the fairest displays of self-knowledge, some of the finest results of meditation, some of the sweetest fruits of retirement owed their appearance not to the tranquillity of

myself, in my chamber; and, in genial seasons, by the banks of a romantick river, or in the recesses of a lonely forest. I have already speculated twice on the profit and pleasure producible by nocturnal hours, wisely employed, and rural rambles, judiciously directed. But for a period of no inconsiderable duration, I have often retired to rest at a vulgar hour, and have wholly exchanged the country for the city. Change of circumstances demanded new habits. Though but seldom I wind slowly o'er the lea; though the glimmering landscape but rarely fades before my sight; and my ears generally listen to other sounds than the drowsy tinklings of a shepherd's bell, yet it is my duty to reflect much, even in the midst of confusion. Accordingly, I commune with my own heart, in the crowd, and can be still, even in the street. I sermonize in the

suburbs, and find apt alliteration | shun those hours, which have been

so nobly employed by Philosophers, Poets, Hermits, and Saints. Dr. YOUNG, who has immortali

in an alley. Istarta topick in Highstreet, and hunt it down as far as Southwark, or the Northern Liberties. I walk through the mar-zed his self-communion, in one of ket-place, as I once wandered the most original poems in our in a wood; and while one is talk- language, a poem not only of ing of his farm, and another of geous metaphors, but of the most his merchandize, I listen to the ardent piety, exclaims, with more suggestions of Fancy, or invoke than mortal enthusiasm, the Cherub Contemplation.

But, to return to a more rigo-| rous exposition of the text, and consider it merely as an exhortation to the tranquil exercise of our mental powers, in the retirement of the closet, I do not know whether in the pages of any philosopher, I could find a better lesson of salutary discipline. It is favourable to the culture of intellectual, as well as moral habits. He, who accustoms himself to closet meditations, will not only purify his heart, but correct his judgment, form his taste, exercise his memory, and regulate his imagination. Moreover, he then has an admirable opportunity to view the world, at a due distance, to form a deliberate estimate of life, to calculate, with precision, the proportion of his own powers, combined with those of other and, having weighed himself as it were in the balance of the sanctuary, to find new causes for regret, and new reasons for reformation.

men,

To multitudes, Solitude, Retirement, and Reflection appear in a form more horrid than the weird sisters in Shakspeare. The man of business, the man of pleasure, the votary of Vanity, and the victim of Lassitude all sedulously

gor

O, lost to Virtue, lost to manly thought,
Lost to THE NOBLEST SALLIES OF THE
SOUL!

Who think it Solitude to be alone,
Communion sweet! communion large and
high!

Our Reason, guardian Angel, and our God!

Adam Sybert, Thomas C. James,
Thomas T. Hewson, N. Chapman.
Counsellors,

William White, Benjamin Rush, An-
drew Ellicott, Nicholas Collins, Wil-
liam Tilghman, P. S. Duponceau, Jo-
nathan Williams, William Short,
John McDowell, Zaccheus Collins.
William Shippen, James Woodhouse,
Curators,
Charles W. Peale, Robert Hare, J.
R. Smith.

Treasurer,
John Vaughan.
Philadelphia, January 1, 1808.

The price of The Port Folio is Six Dollars per annum, to be paid in advance.

Printed and Published, for the Editor, by SMITH & MAXWELL, NO. 28, NORTH SECOND-STREET.

Various, that the mind of desultory man, studious of change and pleased with novelty, may be indulged-Cowp.

Philadelphia, Saturday, February 6, 1808.

ORIGINAL PAPERS.

Block-Island early on the morning of the 26th, and had it not been that the breeze died away towards the evening, a change of place, which would have required at least five weeks by land, might have been effected in very little more than four times four-and-twenty hours.

After a stay of four days at port, we again embarked: the wind was as fair as our Captain could wish, all sails were hoisted, and in a very few hours we lost sight of the Ame

:

| tended to, half Carolina surely would remain uninhabited, and the pestiferous exhalations of our swamps be exchanged for the wholesome atmosphere of Rhode-Island.

During the little time we remained at Newport, many of our old acquaintances found us out, and apNew-peared glad to see us, and I had an opportunity of forming in the person of Mr. Lequinio Kerblay a new acquaintance, which I think of with pleasure: the letters he gave me for his friends and correspondents in France, have been of essential service to us; this gentleman resides at Newport as commercial agent of France, the name of consul, being now destined for higher purposes, and consequently withdrawn from common use, as that of emperour was among the Romans; there is but little probability that this letter of mine will go down to posterity, but if it should, I hope Posterity will take my word for it, that Mr. Lequinio whom it will know as an authour, was at the same time a man of warm affections, and of honourable sentiments. He may have been misled, he indeed certainly was, in the maze of publick affairs, when the reason of

rican shore let me however, before I leave America in my narration, inform you that I found Newport improved since I had seen it; the harbour bespoke an appearance of business, and was enlivened by two Indiamen, a ship of war, and several merchant vessels; the long spoken of and long wished for Long Wharf, had been rebuilt, the streets no longer looked like grassy lanes; some houses had been repaired and painted, and the melancholy figures of decayed masters of vessels, wrapped up in their long cloaks, and looking like shadowy attendants upon the ghost of departed Commerce, were no more to be seen in groups: if to the smiles of returning prosperity, you add the comfort of good air, the charms of a beautiful situation, the society of intelligent obliging people, numbers of pretty faces, the conCourse of strangers from different parts of the world, and a plenty, upon very easy terms, of every thing desirable, you will agree with me, that no place seems better adapted than Newport to such a retreat, as one might wish for at a certain time of life.

Use, which reconciles men to all things, the ties of kindred, the wish, so natural to a parent, of establishing his children in the world, and a variety of other circumstances, flowing all of them from the good. ness and wisdom of Providence, keep us ultimately attached to our several stations on the globe; were Reason alone, free from those useful and therefore necessary prejudices which cleave to the human heart, to be at

the whole nation seems for an interval to have been suspended, when abject fear, strangely combined with political enthusiasm, took place of every sentiment of justice and honour, and even of humanity; but he sooths himself, I presume, with the idea that his intentions were good, whilst he sighs no doubt in honest sincerity of heart over the horrours of what is irretrievably past.

We had sailed from Newport on the first day of August; on the 4th we crossed what the seamen call the tail of the great bank of Newfoundland, and on the 11th found ourselves by observation off Corvo, one of the Azores. Until now, the voyage had gone on, not only tolerably, but I' might almost say, delightfully; I had converted the roundhouse on deck which was assigned to a part of our family, into a more comfortable ha