their crutches, running off as fast as their legs could carry them.

WORTH OF A RHYME.

One of Swift's rhymes on Bettesworth is said to have been suggested by this circumstance. A porter brought a burden to the Dean's house while he was busy with the poem, and labouring to find a rhyme for this uncommon name, the more anxiously, that Bettesworth exulted in the idea of its being impossible. The porter's demand being considered as exorbitant, he wiped his forehead, saying, with the humour of a low Irishman, "Oh! your reverence, my sweat's worth half-acrown." The Dean instantly caught at the words, “Ay, that it is, there's half-a-crown for you."

"NABOTH'S VINEYARD."

"I'll send for your husband," said the Dean to Mrs. Pilkington, "to dine with us, and in the meantime we'll go and take a walk in Naboth's Vineyard." "Where may that be, sir ?" said she. "Why, a garden," said the Dean, "I cheated one of my neighbours out of."

THE DEAN SETS UP HIS CARRIAGE.

In 1741-2, upon the reported disgrace of Lord Orford, Swift set up an equipage. The Dean used formerly to say, that he was the poorest man in Ireland who was served in plate, and the richest who kept no carriage. The account of his setting up one is thus given by Bishop Rundle, in a letter preserved in the British Museum.

"As soon as Dean Swift heard that Lord Orford was dismissed from power, he awakened with one flash of light from his dreaming of what he once was, and cried, I made a vow that I would set up a coach when that man was turned out of his places; and having_the_good fortune to behold that day, long despaired of, I will show that I was sincere and sent for a coachmaker. The operator comes, had one almost ready, it was sent home,-horses were purchased, and the Dean entered the triumphant double chariot, supported by two old women and his daily flatterer, to entertain him with the only music he had an ear to hear at this age; they made up the partie quarrée, and, with much ado, enabled his decrepit reverence to endure the fatigue of travelling twice round our great square, by the cordial and amusement of their fulsome commendations, which he calls facetious pleasantry. But the next packet brought word (what lying varlets these newswriters are!) that Lord Orford's party revived, &c. Swift sunk

back in the corner of the coach, his under jaw fell; he was carried up to his chamber and great chair, and obstinately refused to be lifted into the treacherous vehicle any more, till the newswriters at least shall be hanged for deceiving him to imagine that Lord Orford was bond fide out of power, though visibly out of place. Now he despairs of seeing vengeance taken on any, who, odd fellow! he thinks more richly deserve it; and since he cannot send them out of the world with dishonour, he intends soon to go out of it in a pet."-Letter signed Thomas Derry, dated March 20, 1741-2. MSS. Birch, 4291.

The Bishop is incorrect in supposing that Swift laid aside. the equipage which was thus set up. It appears from Wilson's affidavit, (Swift's Works, vol. xix. p. 259, note,) that Swift, in July, 1742, had a carriage of his own.

SWIFT AND THE BISHOP OF KILMORE.

Josiah Hort, Bishop of Kilmore, and afterwards Archbishop of Tuam, was the author of A New Proposal for the better Regulation and Improvement of Quadrille, for the publication of which Faulkner, the bookseller, was imprisoned. His not having indemnified the publisher excited the ire of Dean Swift in the following satire, published anonymously some years ago, but since found in MS., and acknowledged by Dean Swift, in his own hand:

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An Epigram on seeing a worthy Prelate go out of Church in the time of Divine Service to wait on his Grace the Duke of Dorset, on his coming to Town :—

'Lord Pam in the church (could you think it?) kneel'd down,
When told that the Duke was just come to town-

His station despising, unaw'd by the place,
He flies from his God to attend on his Grace.

To the Court it was fitter to pay his devotion,
Since God had no hand in his Lordship's promotion."

Wilde's Closing Years of Dean Swift's Life, 1849.

THE DEAN AND LADY BURLINGTON.

Scott relates an anecdote, which, though only told by Mrs. Pilkington, is well attested. The last time Swift was in London, he went to dine with the Earl of Burlington, who was but newly married. The Earl, it is supposed, being willing to have a little diversion, did not introduce him to his lady nor mention his name. After dinner said the Dean, "Lady Burlington, I hear you can sing; sing me a song.' The lady looked on this unceremonious manner of asking a favour with distaste, and positively refused. He said, “She

should sing, or he would make her. Why, madam, I suppose you take me for one of your poor English hedge-parsons; sing when I bid you.' As the Earl did nothing but laugh at this freedom, the lady was so vexed that she burst into tears and retired. Swift's first compliment to her ladyship when he saw her again was, " Pray, madam, are you as proud and ill-natured now as when I saw you last ?" To which she answered with great good-humour, "No, Mr. Dean; I'll sing for you if you please. From this time he conceived a great esteem for her.

HOW SWIFT TRIED HIS COMPANY.

Whenever he fell into the company of any person for the first time, it was his custom to try their tempers and disposition by some abrupt question that bore the appearance of rudeness. If this were well taken, and answered with good humour, he afterwards made amends by his civilities. But if he saw any marks of resentment, from alarmed pride, vanity, or conceit, he dropped all further intercourse with the party. This will be illustrated by an anecdote of that sort related by Mrs. Pilkington. After supper, the Dean having decanted a bottle of wine, poured what remained into a glass, and seeing it was muddy, presented it to Mr. Pilkington to drink it. For," said he, "I always keep some poor parson to drink the foul wine for me." Mr. Pilkington, entering into his humour, thanked him, and told him "he did not know the difference, but was glad to get a glass at any rate." "Why then," said the Dean, "you shan't, for I'll drink it myself. Why, take you, you are wiser than a paltry curate whom I asked to dine with me a few days ago; for upon my making the same speech to him, he said, he did not understand such usage, and so walked off without his dinner. By the same token, I told the gentleman who recommended him to me, that the fellow was a blockhead, and I had done with him." Sheridan's Life of Swift.

THE DEAN AND THE PILKINGTONS.

Mrs. Pilkington was one of the Dean's female coterie, and perhaps surpassed all the party in wit and genius not less than in levity. Her husband was a clergyman, and a needy author, from whom a separation took place by mutual consent.

Mrs. Pilkington's acquaintance with Swift commenced by her sending him verses on his birthday. She was afterwards introduced to him by a lady, whom he asked if she was her

daughter, and when informed that she was Mrs. Pilkington, he said, "What, that poor little child married! God help her, she is early inured to trouble." The next Sunday the Dean engaged Mr. Pilkington to preach for him at St. Patrick's church, when Mrs. Pilkington was struck by observing that Dr. Swift went through the whole service himself without once looking into a book. After church he was surrounded by poor people, and gave to all but one old woman with dirty hands, to whom he said that "though a beggar, water was not so scarce but that she might have washed them." He afterwards invited the Pilkingtons to supper, handed Mrs. Pilkington to the coach, and slipped into her hand the exact sum of money that she and her husband had given at the offertory in the morning, as well as the coach-hire.

The Rev. Thomas Pilkington was originally introduced by Dr. Delany to the notice of Dean Swift, and obtained a humble post in his cathedral. He had talent and vivacity, but was totally devoid of principle, and imposed upon Dr. Swift, who, on Pilkington's going to England, gave him a letter of recommendation to his old friend Barber, then Lord Mayor of London, who made Pilkington his chaplain. Swift also gave him introductions to Pope, Bolingbroke, and other friends. But Pilkington grew impudent and profligate, and Lord Bolingbroke and Lord Mayor Barber complained to Swift of the discredit that had been occasioned by his recommendation.

Mrs. Pilkington did not turn out much better than her husband: she was clever. For a short time she kept a pamphlet and print shop in Pall Mall; in 1746 we find her in a more lowly locality-in White Lion-street, Seven Dials, at the sign of the Dove, in "a pretty decent room" for which she paid three pounds a-year: here she advertised that she drew petitions and wrote letters on any subject except the law."

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SWIFT TO A FAVOURED FAIR CORRESPONDENT.

The Dean, in a playful letter to Mrs. Pendarves, dated 1734, writes:

A pernicious heresy prevails here [in Dublin] among the men, that it is the duty of your sex to be fools in every article except what is merely domestic; and to do the ladies justice, there are very few of them without a good share of that heresy, except upon one article, that they have as little regard for family business as for the improvement of their minds !

I have had for some time a design to write against this heresy, but have now laid those thoughts aside, for fear of making both sexes my enemies however, if you will come over to my assistance, I will carry you about among our adversaries and dare them to produce one instance where your want of ignorance makes you affected, pretending, conceited, disdainful, endeavouring to speak like a scholar, with twenty more faults objected by themselves, their lovers, or their husbands. But I fear your case is desperate, for I know you never laugh at a jest before you understand it; and I much question whether you understand a fan, or have so good a fancy at silks as others; and your way of spelling would not be intelligible.

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Nothing vexes me so much with relation to you, as that with all my disposition to find faults, I was never once able to fix upon anything that I could find amiss, although I watched you narrowly; for when I found we were to lose you soon, I kept my eyes and ears always upon you, in hopes that you would make some boutade. It is, you know, a French word, and signifies a sudden jerk from a horse's hinder feet which you did not expect, because you thought him for some months a sober animal, and this has been my case with several ladies whom I chose for friends; in a week, a month, or a year, hardly one of them failed to give me a boutade; therefore, I command you will obey my orders, in coming over hither for one whole year; after which, upon the first boutade you make, I will give you my pass to be gone.

Next year, 1735, the Dean writes to the same lady, from Dublin:

I had some intention to go to Bath, but I had neither time nor leisure for such a journey; those times are past with me, and I am older by fourscore years since the first time I had the honour to see you. I got a giddiness by raw fruit when I was a lad in England, which I never could be wholly rid of, and it is now too late, so that I confine myself entirely to a domestic life. I am visited seldom, but visit much seldomer. I dine alone like a king, having few acquaintance, and those lessening daily. This town is not what you left it, and I impute the cause altogether to your absence.

It was impossible to answer your letter from Paradise-the old Grecians of Asia called every fine garden by that name; and, besides, when I consulted some friends, they conceived that, wherever you resided, that must needs be a paradise. Yet this was too general & direction if you were in a humour of rambling, unless the post-office had constant intelligence of your stages. With great submission I am sorry to find a lady make use of the word paradise, from which you turned us all out as well as yourselves; and pray tell me freely how many of your sex bring it along with them to their husband's houses? I was still at a loss where this Paradise of yours might be, when Mrs. Donellan discovered the secret; she said it was a place (I forget in what shire)

"Paradise." Sir John Stanley's villa at North End was called "Paradise;" but there was another place where Mrs. Pendarves was staying with her mother, which was also called Paradise.