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BEAuTY.-That is not the most perfect

 beauty which, in public, would attract the

 greatest observation nor even that which the statuary would admit to be a fauliless piece of clay, kneaded up with blood. But that is true beauty which has not only a substance, but spirit---a beauty that we must intimately know, justly to appreciate "a beauty lighted up in conversation, where the mind shines as it were through its casket; where, in the language of the poet, "the eloquent blood spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, that we might almost say her body thought" An order and a mode of beauty which the more we know, the more we accuse our selves for not having before discovered those thousand graces which bespeak that their owner has soul. This is that beau- ty which never cloys, possessing charms as rcsistless as the fascinating Egyptian, for which Antony paid the bauble of the world; a beauty like the rising of his own Italian suns, always enchanting, never the same.

 s r %s Lacon.