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and the use of one hand, indeed of one side, entirely. But, thinking this might rouse his attention, she put the petition into his hand, which he read through; and it plainly appeared that he understood it, as he repeatedly afterwards mentioned, though with much difficulty, the petitioner's place of abode. He then had the sheet turned, and seemed still to read where nothing was written; made some sign, by pointing, as if he wanted an almanack, which his sister opened to him in December; and he ran his finger forward upon it till about the seventh or eighth day.

A letter coming in from Ramsay was read to him; but he took no notice of it, and seemed quite insensible of any thing; and in this condition he was carried to his bed, when Mr. Wilks arrived about five the same evening, and Dr. Scott, being sent for from Douglas, got to Bishop's Court the same night. Before the Doctor came, the Bishop had got some warm claret and currant jelly, and would have his sister take a cup of the same. In the mean time, his stupor and insensibility increasing, all that could be done in the medicinal way proved ineffectual. He seemed to make some attempts to speak at times, but hardly any thing intelligible. And thus he continued till the Sunday night following, December 6, and expired quietly about one in the morning of the 7th. much and greatly lamented by his whole diocese, who have lost in him a most affectionate and faithful pastor, ever attentive to the spiritual and temporal welfare of the people committed to his

care.

His zeal and piety in getting the Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, together with the book of Common Prayer, printed and published in the Manks tongue, for the use of his diocese, is, above all others, the strongest and most lasting proof that can be given of his ardent love and concern for the good of his spiritual charge. And these he carried with him to the grave, and even into the grave, as he had by his will directed, that the funeral office and sermon should be all in Manks, which was performed accordingly.

Dr. Hildesley left a donative of corn to the amount of some four, some five pounds apiece to every parish and town in the isle; three hundred pounds to the Society for promoting Christian knowledge, towards a future edition of the Manks Bible, &c. together with some handsome legacies to his relations and particular friends; who, exclusive of this tender evidence of his esteem, will have reason

to remember him with that gratitude and respect which were most justly due to so revered and respectable a cha

racter.

1794, July, Aug. Sept.

Ω.

LXXXV. Dean Swift to Mr. Windar.

MR. URBAN,

THE two following letters, which, it is believed, are not to be found in any collection of Swift's Works, bear undoubted marks of his peculiar turn of thought, and style of writing. Although the matter of both be familiar and trivial, they may serve to throw some new light on the two periods of his life to which they relate. Swift was 31 when the first was written. The second was addressed to the same gentleman, after an interval of 33 years. He was then in his 64th year. The lady he alludes to under the name of Eliza was probably Miss Jane Waring, of Belfast, to whom an excellent letter from Swift appears in his Works. The Mr. Windar to whom this letter is addressed succeeded Swift in the prebend of Kilroot, and was grandfather of Lord Macartney, whose mother, Elizabeth, was the youngest daughter of Mr. Windar.

LETTER I.

For the Rev. Mr. Windar, Prebendary of Kilroot.

[To be left at Belfast, in the county of Antrim, Ireland.]

Moor-Park, Jan. 13, 1698.

I AM not likely to be so pleased with any thing again this good while as I was with your letter of December 20th; and it has begun to put me into a good opinion of my own merits, or at least my skill at negociation, to find I have so quickly restored a correspondence that I feared was declining; as it requires more charms and address for women to revive one fainting flame than to kindle a dozen new ones. But, I assure you, I was very far from imputing your silence to any bad cause (having never entertained one single ill

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thought of you in my life,) but to a custom which breaks off commerce between abundance of people, after a long absence. At first one omits writing for a little while,-and then one stays a while longer to consider of excuses,-and at last it grows desperate, and one does not write at all. At this rate I have served others, and have been served myself.

I wish I had a Lexicon by me, to find whether your Greek word be spelt and accented right, and am very sorry you have made an acutum in ultima, as if you laid the greatest stress upon the worst part of the word. However, I protest against your meaning, or any interpretation you shall ever make of that nature out of my letters; if I thought you deserved any bitter words, I should either deliver them plainly, or hold my tongue altogether; for, I esteem the custom of conveying one's resentment by hints, or inuendos, to be a sign of malice or fear, or too little sincerity but I have told you, coram et absens, that you are in your nature more sensible than you need be; and I find it is with reputation as with all other possessions, that those who have the greatest portion are most covetous of it. It is hard you cannot be satisfied with the esteem of the best among your neighbours, but lose your time in regarding what may be thought of you by one of my privacy and distance. I wish you could as easily make my esteem and friendship for you to be of any value, as you may be sure to command them.

I should be sorry if you have been at any inconvenience in hastening my accompts; and I dare refer you to my letters, that they will lay the fault upon yourself; for, I think I desired, more than once, that you would not make more dispatch than stood with your ease, because I was in no haste at all.

I desired of you, two or three times, that when you had sent me a catalogue of those few books, you would not send them to Dublin till you had heard again from me. The reason was, that I did believe there were one or two of them that might have been useful to you, and one or two more that were not worth their carriage. Of the latter sort were an old musty Horace and Joley's book.. Of the former were Reynold's Work; Collection of Sermons, in quarto;. Stillingfleet's Grounds, &c. and the folio paper book, very good for sermons, or a receipt-book for your wife, to keep accounts of mutton, raisins, &c. The Sceptis Scientifica is not mine, but old Mr. Dobbes's; and I wish it were restored. He has Temple's Miscellanea instead of it, which

is a good book, worth your reading. If Sceptis Scientifica comes to me, I will burn it for a fustian piece of abominable curious virtuoso stuff. The books missing are few and inconsiderable, not worth troubling any body about. I hope this will come to your hands before you have sent your cargo, that you may keep those books you mention; and desire you will write my name and er dono before them in large letters. I desire my humble service to Mrs. Windar, and that you will let her know I shall pay a visit at Carmoney some day or other, how little soever any of you may think of it; but I will, as you desire, excuse you the delivery of my compliments to poor H. Clements, and hope you will have much better fortune than poor Mr. Davis, who has left a family that is like to find a cruel want of him. Pray let me hear that you grow very rich, and begin to make purchases. I never heard that H. Clements was dead; I was at his mayoral feast. Has he been mayor since, or did he die then, and every body forgot to send me word of it?

These sermons you have thought fit to transcribe will utterly disgrace you, unless you have so much credit that whatever comes from you will pass. They were what I was firmly resolved to burn, and especially some of them; the idlest, trifling stuff that ever was writ, calculated for a church without company, or a roof like our . . . . . . . at Oxford. They will be a perfect lampoon upon me, whenever you look on them and remember they are mine.

I remember those letters to Eliza; they were writ in my youth. You might have sealed them up, and nobody of my friends would have opened them. Pray burn them.

There were parcels of other papers that I would not have lost, and I hope you have packed them up, so that they may come to me. Some of them were abstracts and collections from reading.

You mention a dangerous rival for an absent lover. But I must take my fortune. If the report proceeds, pray inform me; and, when you have leisure and humour, give me the pleasure of a letter from you: and, though you are a man full of fastenings to the world, yet endeavour to continue a friendship in absence; for, who knows but Fate may jumble us together again; and I believe, had I been

of your neighbourhood, I should not have been so unsatisfied with the region I was planted in.

I am, and will be ever, entirely yours, &c.

J. SWIFT.

Pray let me know something of my debt being paid to Tailer, the inn-keeper of ... I have forgot the name of the town-between Dromore and Newry.

LETTER II.

SIR,

To the Rev. Mr. Windar, at Belfast.

Dublin, Feb. 19, 1731-2.

I HAD the favour of yours of the 6th instant. I have been above a fortnight confined by an accidental strain, and can neither ride nor walk, nor easily write, else you should have heard from me sooner. I am heartily sorry for your disorder, and am the more sensible by those I have myself, though not of the same kind, but a constant disposition to giddiness, which I fear my present confinement, with the want of exercise, will increase. I am afraid you could not light upon a more unqualified man to serve you or my nearest friends, in any manner, with people in power: for, I have the misfortune to be not only under the particular displeasure both of the king and queen, as every body knows, but likewise every person, both in England and Ireland, who is well with the court, and can do me good or hurt. And although this and the two last lieutenants were of my old acquaintance, yet I never could prevail with any of them to give a living to a sober grave clergyman, who married my near relation, and has been long in the church, so that he still is my curate; and I reckon this present governor will do like the rest. I believe there is not any person you see from this town who does not know that my situation is as I describe. If you, or your son, were in favour with any bishop or parson, perhaps it might be contrived to have them put in mind, or solicited; but I am no way proper to be the first mover, because there is not one spiritual or temporal lord in Ireland whom I visit, or by whom I am visited, but am as mere a monk as any in Spain; and there is not a clergyman on the top of a mountain who so little converses with mankind, or is so little regarded by them, on any other account except shewing malice. All this 1 bear as well as I can; eat my morsel alone, like a king; and constantly at home, when, I am not riding, or walking, which I do often, and always alone.

I give you this picture of myself, out of old friendship; whence you may judge what share of spirits and mirth are now left me; yet I cannot read at night, and am therefore

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