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ed eyes in the most horrible form that Fables yet have feigned, or Fear conceived. In one hour, his wealth vanished, his servants were slain, and his children consumed. To add to this gloomy catalogue of woes, his body is not only tormented with the scourge of Sickness, but his mind is clouded with all the darkness of Despair.

of being surrounded with obsequious guests, and fawning dependents, he finds himself on a sudden in the dismal company of Solitude and Contempt. The same gust of adversity, which had made a wreck of his fortune and his peace, had blown away all his friends, connexions and companions too, and on a raging ocean he finds himself joyless, and alone, and on the very gulf of Despair.

Like April skies, life is coquetish, capricious, and changeable. Prosperity and Adversity often succeed each other, like the vicissitudes of day and night. The unhappy sufferer, whom we have just left in an abyss of misfortunes, suddenly emerges, by the favour of Divine Providence, and his last days are fairer than the first. Having exercised a patience unparalelled, and displayed a conscience void of offence, his integrity is justly and graciously requit

by a most magnificent reward. His fortune was doubled, and his family favoured. Honours and

In this mournful reverse of circumstances, one, who took but a hasty glance at Human Nature, and who partially looked only at one side, would naturally conclude, that Job would be immediately surrounded by crowds, impatient to testify their opinion of his value, and their sorrow and solace for his sufferings. As he was a man of genius, wisdom, and eloquence; as he had been a character of so much distinction, that he was the companion of Princes, and the oracle of the people, as he was a Nobleman, a Judge, an Oratour, and a Statesman, he had the strong-ed est claim upon the gratitude of some, the friendship of others and the compassion of all. Let us now count this army of auxiliaries coming to the support of suffering virtue. We shall not laboriously task our arithmetick. Of that swarm, which once buzzed in his courts, and hovered in his palaces, who quaffed the richest of his wines, and anointed themselves in rivers of his oil, only three individuals remain, and this scanty group, so far from pouring balm on his tortured mind, assail him in the angriest terms of reproach and controversy; and, in a spirit of captious sophistry, which would disgrace the most illiberal of mankind, cavil at every chapter of his life. Instead of being run after by admiring thousands, instead of witnessing a multitude banquetting at his table, instead

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gifts await him. But is it neces sary for me to record, with the minuteness of an annalist, this second epoch in this good man's history? Is it not already indicated, as it were with a pen of diamond, by the circumstance in the text? Is it not clear, as noontide beams, that our patient hero must have regained his rank in society, and become "a prosperous gentleman,' before his brethren and his sisters, and all they that had been of his acquaintance before, would come and eat bread with him, and bemoan him, and comfort him? During the gloomy season of his sufferings, we do not hear one syllable of these sunshine friends. Lover and friend were not put far away, but kept far away. No brother, nor sister, nor old acquain

tance, nor grateful friend, nor pampered guest, nor faithful servant, ever dreamed of visiting Job in poverty and affliction. Suddenly Fortune smiles, and who then more smiling than the servile and pari

sitical followers of Fortune? The indigent Job is alone, the affluent Job is overwhelmed with the civilities of crowds. Not only his family friends and domestick retainers are officious in their visits, but every man gave him a piece of money, and every one an earring of gold. As Jaques in the play finely remarks

-They made a testament

As worldlings do, giving their sum of more To that, which had too much

There was a time, when Job sat down among the ashes, that, so far from receiving money gratuitously, he could not have borrowed a piece of silver, no not on usury. But when his coffers and caskets are once more replenished, all the gold of the Orientals is showered upon him.

Having incidentally alluded to a passage in the immortal SHAKSPEARE, I cannot refrain from recommending to my classical readers, the perusal, in connexion with my text, of that admirable drama, Timon of Athens. The story of that prodigal nobleman, compared with that of the patient Job, deserted by his friends, at his utmost need, and courted by them, during a reverse of fortune, will present such a picture of human nature, as neither Hobbes Mandeville would hope to emulate with the hardest pencils and the darkest colouring.

For The Port Folio. BIOGRAPHY.

nor

In several numbers of this paper, we have insisted, at considerable length, upon the delight, that a great majority of our rea

ders of an inquisitive humour and delicate taste, always experience, in perusing the lives of distinguished men. At no very remote distance of time, we stipulated with the publick that Biography should form a regular article in this Journal. It imports agreeable to the humour of the Editor, as us to pay our vows. Indeed, an article so, well as interesting to the curiosity of his friends, should not have been postponed, for a week, if we could have readily found a choice of valuable articles, sufficiently portable for this miscellany. But ADDISON could not hate long speeches more heartily, than the publick detest prolixity, in a paper of the complexion of The Port Folio. On inspecting many recent publications, and consulting many Biographical Dictionaries,

we found ourselves embarrassed too often with the copiousness of our materials, and began almost to despair of discovering these little medallions of character, for which the French are so famous, and which are so finely calculated, to pursue the allusion, for the narrow room which we can assign them. At length, we have found a collection of lives written in a terse style and abounding with anecdote. To add to

our satisfaction it is upon the model of Granger's admirable work, and comprizes one of the most interesting epochs of literature, we mean the Augustan age of England, in which flourished an ADDISON, a SWIFT, and a BOLINGBROKE. Our authority is of a very recent date, and we are indebted for these pleasing articles to the industry of a worthy clergyman, and respectable authour, the domestick chaplain to the Earl of Leicester.

We commence this gallery of portraits with a sketch of the romantick character of the versatile Earl of Peterborough, of. whom SWIFT so justly sung : Mordanto FILLS THE TRUMP OF FAME

Charles Mordaunt, third Earl of Peterborough, and first of Monmouth, was one of the strangest compounds that Nature, in her most sportive moments, ever produced. Of great ancestry, a peer by creation as well as, afterwards, by descent; yet in his youth, he seemed to disregard decency, and the greatest of all moral obligations. Justice, indeed, ought to have claimed him, as one who shed human blood. Graceful in his manners, elegant in his person, and a favourite with the Muses, he seemed emulous to mix only with the rough and then untutored brave tars of the ocean. Leaving the naval ser

vice, he charmed a listening senate all his reward. Living on the borwith his oratory. Disgusted with ders of parsimony, yet always in debt. James II's government, he went to They who blamed, could not help command part of the Dutch fleet, but admiring him: even the cynick Swift, William III brought him back to his after remarking, that "though his native land; when we find him a mi- | lordship was at least sixty, he had litary officer, yet assisting his majes- more spirits than any young fellow ty in the council. Under Ann he in England," adds, "I love the hangfought and conquered; and Spain dog dearly." An avowed athiest, he would have been transferred from gained the admiration of the friends the Bourbon to the Austrian family, of revealed religion. He was like no if Charles had as much attended to other human being; yet all human fighting as bull-feasting. Never was beings admired his sense, his wit, a general more brave or more skilful. and his courage. As a single variety An adept in the illusions of perspec- in the species, he was said to be tive, he imposed upon the enemy as without fear. "No," said his lordto the numbers under his command; ship, "I am not; but I never saw oceven his gallantries aided his plans. casion to fear." He died of a flux, He astonished the proud Spaniards at Lisbon, October 25, 1735, aged and the patient Germans; even the 77. By Carey, daughter of Sir Alexspritely French saw themselves ex- ander Frazier, of Dotes, in the councelled in courage, celerity, and stra- ty of Mearns in Scotland, he had tagem. The parliament thanked John, Lord Mordaunt, father of him; but imitating his fickleness, Charles, the fourth earl of Peterbowithdrew their favour. Ever at rough; Henry, a distinguished seahome, his pen vindicated his sword; officer; and Henrietta, married to and, at the change of the queen's Alexander Gordon, second duke of ministry, he blazed forth a knight of Gordon. His lordship, when a withe garter; and as negotiator in all dower, became deeply enamoured the Italian courts. Restless and alert with the accomplished Anastasia Roon the continent or in England, he binson, daughter of Mr. Robinson, was ever on the wing: "he saw more a painter; who though an opera sinkings and postillions than any man ger, a teacher of musick and the Itain Europe. This quarter of the lian language, to support an aged paglobe seemed to him too confined rent, rejected all his advances tending for his pastimes. He asked a comto an illicit connexion. This proud mission as captain-general of our for- and singular man, dreading a total ces in North America, but his ene- loss of the fair Anastasia, married her my and rival Marlborough prevented privately, and concealed the circumhis gaining it. Under George I and stance; till, in 1735, he publickly owGeorge II he became a conspicuous ned what most people knew before: whig, and was continued by their he then proclaimed his marriage like majesties lord lieutenant of North- no other husband. He went amptonshire, and made general of evening to the rooms at Bath, where the marine forces of Great Britain; a servant was ordered distinctly and. but, in these reigns he employed his audibly to exclaim, "Lady Peterbotime more as a wit than a politician. rough's carriage waits." Every lady Caprice dictated and inclination fol- of rank and fashion rose, and congralowed. He was insufferably haughty, tulated the declared countess. and loved popularity. The correspondent of Pope and Swift, and gifted in all that learning and genius could bestow, he yet delighted to hear himself declaim in a coffeehouse, where the stupid stare of astonishment was

*

one

* Mr. Robinson resided in or near Gol

den-square; he had studied his profession in Italy, and understanding the language, had taught it his daughter Anastasia when young, who learned it with great ease and correctness.

TO READERS.

Next to periodical essays, and the biography of the learned, for which not only ourselves, but the great majority of our readers have a strong and just partiality, we have always admired tours and travels, not in Africa, nor among the naked barbarians of the west, but among those nations, who have distinguished themselves by the blandishments of life, by softness and civility of manners, by the pursuits of literature and the efforts of Genius and Art. Hence the mountains of Burgundy, the banks of the Seine, the lake of Lausanne, the vales of the Arno, and the shores of the Mediterranean, however described, will always fix the attention of inquisitive man. To this stock of useful and pleasing information we have it in our power to make a very copious, elegant, and interesting addition. An American gentleman of superiour talents, liberal education, and extensive views has favoured us with his manuscript travels through one of the most charming and civilized sections of the European conti

nent.

that no article in the Editor's power to furnish was read with more avidity. As soon as the series was completed an elegant edition was immediately published by a British bookseller, and a clear majority of unbiassed criticks have pronounced their verdict in our Tourist's favour. On a careful inspection of the letters, which adorn our front pages, we have not a doubt that they too, will receive the honours of popularity at home, and of publication abroad.

For The Port Folio.

SONG. AIR VIVA TUTTA."
By the brook that's softly flowing,
When the evening breeze is blowing,
When the Sun has press'd his pillow,
Deep beneath the distant billow,

Then it's sweet alone to stray.

Thoughts of thee my maid entrancing,
Absence every charm enhancing,

Then I rove till break of day.

There is much point in the following
Epigram.

A Cock, within a stable pent,

Was strutting o'er a heap of dung,
And still as round and round he went,
The mettled courser stampt and flung.
Bravo! quoth he, a decent noise,

We make a tolerable pother;
But let's take care my merry boys,
We tread not upon one another.

MERRIMENT.

As these travels abound not only with vivid descriptions, but with amusing anecdotes, and judicious reflections, and as from the merit of the subject, as well as of the execution, the work deserves a conspicuous place in a Journal, whose object is to preserve some records of the literature of our country'; we have determined to publish these letters regularly, and to permit them to occupy the first place in The Port Folio. During the first year of the establishment of this paper, we were favoured, by a man of genius, and a diplomatick character of rank, with his travels in Silesia. These, though descriptive of a quarter of Europe, comparitively obscure, were so favourably received by the American publick,well as in it.”

A country gentleman being complimented on the appearance of his horses, and being told they were in excellent plight, said, "To be sure, how should it be otherwise? they eat such hay and oats, that the king himself never ate better."

A Bishop, congratulating a poor parson, said he lived in a very fine air: "Yes Sir," replied he, "I should think it so, if I could live upon it, as

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

Printed and Published, for the Editor, by SMITH & MAXWELL, ND. 28, NORTH SECOND-STREET.

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

Vol. V.

Philadelphia, Saturday, February 13, 1808.

TRAVELS.

ORIGINAL PAPERS.

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My dear E

LETTER II.

Geneva.

WE now fell in with vessels of the same description, almost every day. and though we were generally well treated, considering the sort of people their crews consisted of, yet it was never without painful sensations that we saw them approach; it was always under a press of sail, as if determined to run us down, until within short gun shot, and then with the men at their quarters and all those preparations for battle, which are so solemn, even when one knows there is to be no fighting. Fortunately for us, our voyage was made at the commencement of the contest between

No. 7.

the great rival powers of Europe, before the minds of individuals had been sharpened by opposition and disappointment, before they had been familiarized with scenes of distress, and while there yet remained somewhat of that imaginary glow of sentiment, which for a time, can gild the worst of passions in the breast of a privateer's man.

It seemed as if every other wind but the North East had been extinct, for after calms it still returned, and could not exhaust itself in a succession of gales; still, however, our good ship gained to the eastward, and on the morning of the twenty-fifth, the long-desired and much wishedfor land appeared in sight, and I once more beheld the coast of Europe, after an absence of twenty-five years, after a long vicissitude of cares and joys over which my mind rapidly glanced, as I gazed from the deck on what appeared at a distance to be a cloud, but which the experience of the seamen taught them to be Cape Ortegal. In a few days, we had doubled the Cape and found ourselves in the Bay of Biscay, which, instead of that tremendous sea for which it is

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