lucid intervals he bequeathed the bulk of his fortune to erect an hospital in Dublin, for lunatics and idiots. His remains were interred in St. Patrick's cathedral. The principal works of Dean Swift are "The Tale of a Tub ;" "Gulliver's Travels, a moral and political romance;" "Letters, Poems, Sermons, Political Treatises;" and "The Four last Years of Queen Anne." As his company was courted by persons of the first rank in life and literature, the following peculiarities may be related of him.) It was a rule with him never to speak more than a minute at a time, and to wait for others to take up the conversation. He was particularly happy in punning, and used to say, "that none despised that talent but those who were without it." He greatly excelled in telling stories, but in the latter part of his life repeated them too often. He was offended at a double entendre or profaneness in religious subjects. He was pleased at having ladies in the company, because it preserved the delicacy of conversation: though we may venture to assert that, in his writings, there are greater indelicacies, than any double entendres can amount to. When the dean was at Quilca, a country seat of Dr. Sheridan's, he went one Sunday to a church, at the distance of more than two hours' ride. The parson of the parish invited him to dinner, but Swift excused himself by saying, that it was too far to ride home afterwards; no, I shall dine with

my neighbor Reilly, at Virginy, which is half way home. Reilly, who was what is called there a gentleman farmer, was proud of the honor, and immediately despatched a messenger to his wife to prepare for the reception of so extraordinary a guest. She dressed herself out in her best apparel; the son put on his new suit, and his silver laced hat adorned his head. When the lady was introduced to the dean, he saluted her with the same respect as if she had been a dutchess, making several conges down to the ground, and then handed her, with great formality, to her seat.—After some high-flown compliments, he addressed his host, "Mr. Reilly, I suppose you have a considerable estate here; let us go and look over your demesne." "Éstate!" says Reilly, "devil a foot of land belongs to me or any of my generation. I have a pretty good lease here indeed from Lord Fingal, but he threatens that he will not renew it, and I have but a few years of it to come." "Well, but when am I to see Mrs. Reilly ?" "Why, don't you see her there before you ?" "That Mrs. Reilly! impossible! I have heard she is a prudent woman, and as such would never dress herself out in silks, and other ornaments, fit only for ladies of fashion. No, Mrs. Reilly, the farmer's wife, would never wear any thing better than plain stuff, with other things suitable to it. Mrs. Reilly happened to be a woman of good sense, and, taking the hint, immediately

withdrew, changed her dress as speedily as possible, and in a short time returned to the parlor in her common apparel. The dean saluted her in the most friendly manner, taking her by the hand, and saying, "I am heartily glad to see you, Mrs. Reilly. This husband of yours would fain have palmed a fine lady upon me, all dressed out in silks, and in the pink of the mode, for his wife, but I was not to be taken in so." He then laid hold of young master's fine laced hat; with his penknife ripped off the lace, and folding it up in several papers, thrust it into the fire. When it was sufficiently burnt, he wrapped it up in fresh paper, and put it in his pocket. It may be supposed that the family was put into no small confusion at this strange proceeding; but they did not dare to show that they took any umbrage at it, as the presence of Swift struck every one with uncommon awe, who were not well acquainted with him. However, as he soon resumed his good humor, entertaining them with many pleasantries to their taste (for no man knew better how to adapt his conversation to all classes of people), they soon recovered their spirits, and the day was passed very cheerfully. When he was taking his leave, he said, "I do not intend to rob you, Mrs. Reilly; I shall take nothing belonging to you away with me; there's your son's hat lace; I have only changed the form of it to a much better one. So God bless you, and

thanks for your good entertainment." When he was gone, Mrs. Reilly, upon opening the paper, found there were four guineas enclosed in it, together with the burnt lace. While he staid in the country, he kept an eye upon them, and found his lessons had not been thrown away, as they were cured of their vanities, and lived in a manner more consonant to their situation in life; in consequence of which, one of the first things he did on his return to Dublin, was to pay a visit to Lord Fingal, and engage him to renew Reilly's lease; without which the poor man would, in a few years, have had nothing for his own or his family's support. During his residence at Quilca he wrote a great part of his Gulliver's Travels, and prepared the whole for press. While he was upon the subject of the Brobdignaggs, he used frequently to invite a Mr. Doughty, who lived in that neighborhood, to dine with him. He was of a gigantic stature; and supposed to be the strongest man in Ireland, as well as the most active. Swift used to take great delight in seeing him perform several of his feats, some of which were of so extraordinary a nature, that I should be afraid to relate them, lest it should impeach my credibility. Among these, the dean asked him whether he could carry on his back a man's horse which happened to be in the court yard at that time. Doughty, after having tied his legs, immediately took him up and threw him on his shoul

ders, with the same ease that another man would lift a sheep, and walked about with him for a long time without shrinking at all under his burthen. It happened one day that a gentleman of that neighborhood, well known in the country by the name of Killbuck Tuite, dined with the dean at Quilca, when Doughty was there. He was a blunt, free-spoken man, no respecter of persons, and stood in awe of no one, let his rank or character be what it would. After dinner, the dean asked him whether he could direct him the road to Market Hill. Tuite said he did not know it. "That is the way," said the dean, “with all you Irish blockheads; you never know the way to any place beyond the next dunghill." "Why," answered Tuite, "I never was at Market Hill; have not you been there, Mr. Dean?" He acknowledged he had. "Then what a damned English blockhead are you," replied Killbuck, "to find fault with me for not directing you the way to a place where I never had been, when you don't know it yourself, who have been there!" Swift, with a countenance of great counterfeited terror, immediately rose and changed seats with Doughty, who happened to be next to him, placing the giant between him and Tuite to protect him against that wild man, and skulking behind him, like a child, with a well acted fear, to the no small entertainment of the company; who, however, were not sorry that the dean had met with his