Skelton saw a letter of Swift's to him, he said, in which he set forth in his usual querulous strain, the miseries and calamities of this unhappy country, saying, that the Irish were the most lazy, roguish, worthless people on earth, and that he would do no more for them. The doctor, as well as our great countryman, had a real regard for Ireland, and strove, as it appears, according to his abilities, to serve it. It being customary for him to go among the nobility and gentry soliciting subscriptions for useful purposes, he met with an odd reception in Dublin on an errand of this nature (as Mr. Skelton informed us) from a late nobleman, a famous member of the hell-fire club. His lordship, on being told that the doctor was in the parlour, shrewdly guessing at his business, immediately stripped himself stark naked, and in this state, came running into the room with outstretched arms, saying," Worthy Dr. Madden, I am glad to see you, how do you do? shake hands with me doctor, when I heard you were here, I was in such a hurry to see you, that I would not wait to put on my clothes." The doctor shocked at the wild spectacle, leaped up, and was for hastening out of the room; but his lordship stopped him saying," My dear doctor, don't be in a hurry, tell me your business, I would be glad to do any thing to serve you." The doctor pushed by him, but his lordship accompanied him to the street door, where he stood for some time as an exhibition to the passengers.

Skelton had the good fortune, when he lived at Dr. Madden's, to get acquainted with the Rev. William Leslie, rector of the parish of Ahavea, a man of admirable sense, and complete knowledge of the world, for whose advice and friendship he was grateful ever afterward. His prudent and wise directions served to regulate the tenor of his youthful conduct. He called him his second father, and consulted him on every emergency. He declared he was the most sensible man he ever knew, and owned the many advantages he derived from his friendship. When he was rector of Pettigo, this good clergyman on his death-bed recommended his grand-children to his protection, of whom he took a paternal care during his life.

At that time, his age and condition required good advice. His situation at Dr. Madden's was not at all envia

ble. He was quite weary of his tuition. The lady of the house was proud and parsimonious, and ruled her husband with supreme authority. She wished also, it appears, to extend her dominion over Skelton, and prescribe to him how he should teach her children. To this, it may be supposed, one of his spirit would not tamely submit. Besides, she was highly offended with Skelton for exciting the doctor, by his example, to acts of charity, to which indeed he was sufficiently inclined of himself. She strove therefore to vex him, and make his situation as unpleasant as possible. In this state of penance he continued for two long years, but was at last, for the sake of quiet, forced to resign the cure and tuition, and depend on Providence for his support.

On leaving Dr. Madden's, he repaired to his brother's in Dundalk, where he stayed but a few months, until he got a nomination (in 1732) to the cure of Monaghan in the diocess of Clogher, from the Hon. and Rev. Francis Hamilton the rector. He took his diet and lodging in the town of Monaghan with a Francis Battersby, and in five years after with a George Johnston. In obtaining this cure he succeeded according to his wishes. His active and benevolent mind could not brook being confined to a school-room. He longed for leisure to pursue his favourite study of divinity, and to employ himself as a minister of a parish. His inclinations were all spiritual, and he only desired an opportunity of being more extensively useful; for long ago he had fixed his thoughts on the rewards of a better world than the present.

Yet, at the very beginning, he was in danger of being turned out of his new cure. Dr. Sterne, the bishop, whom Swift succeeded in the deanery of St. Patrick's, being rather an old man, of an odd temper, and a little credulous, was imposed on by some one who told him, that Dr. Madden turned Skelton out of his family, for striving to entice his daughter to marry him. The bishop, believing it to be so, refused to license him for the cure of Monaghan; on which he went to him to justify himself, hoping his lordship was not offended at any part of his conduct. "Ah, you're a sly dog," said the bishop, "you wanted to gain the affections of Dr. Madden's daughter, and get her to marry

you; you are a handsome fine fellow, like your brother, who, you know, enticed a gentleman's daughter." Skelton requested his lordship to apply to Dr. Madden himself, and inquire if he did so. The bishop accordingly asked the doctor, who said the whole was false, and that Mr. Skelton's conduct in his family was most honourable. He then gave him the license desired.

He related most candidly the whole of the affair respecting his brother alluded to by the bishop. His brother Thomas, before he got the small living of Newry, happened to be tutor in the family of Mr. Lucas, of CastleShane, a gentleman of fortune in the county of Monaghan. He was, it seems, a handsome agreeable young man, and the squire's daughter fell in love with him. When he obtained the parish of Newry, he used to go frequently and see the family; but perceiving the young lady's partiality for him, resolved to stay away in future. After an absence of four or five months, at last, on receiving many invitations, he paid them a visit again. The young lady took then an opportunity of openly declaring her passion for him, telling him, he was the most cruel of men. Skelton, who had a real affection for the amiable girl, assured her, he would suffer any thing for her sake; the matter being thus settled, he carried her off and married her. His brother Philip, who knew all the circumstances, said he would have been a bad man if he had not. The squire was highly enraged at his daughter's marrying a person, whom he looked on as an inferior, and would never see either him or her, or give her the smallest fortune. The husband therefore, as he had no other income, was obliged to maintain on his small parish a grand lady accustomed to high life, which embarrassed him not a little. However she continued but a short time with him; she died of her first child, and left behind her a daughter, (who obtained her parent's fortune amounting to 13007.) the present Mrs. Ennis, a lady eminent for her piety.

Thomas Skelton was afterward married to Miss Huston, who, if now alive, would be aunt to the Lord Bishop of Down. By her he had a son, who died of a fever after he arrived at manhood. His third wife, for he had three, was widow Carleton, mother to Sir Guy Carleton, now Lord

Dorchester. Sir Guy's eminence in the world was oving in a great degree, I am told, to the care which his stepfather Thomas Skelton took of his education. Philip Skeltor lived also on terms of intimacy with that great general, se distinguished for valour, conduct, and humanity. He has recommended young soldiers to him, and his recommendation always proved of advantage to those who obtained it.

His brother John of Dundalk married a Miss Turtil. Doctor Skelton of Drogheda is his son, a gentleman highly esteemed in his profession, who has now 407. a year profit rent from a part of the family farm. His father made a decent fortune by teaching. Mr. Skelton had also a brother called Robert, an excellent scholar, who married some person of low station, when he was on the point of going to college. This was an obstruction to his literary progress. He was a man of a singular character, of strong natural parts, but addicted to drunkenness. His two other brothers, Richard and James, were decent country farmers. It is surprising, that the father of all these, who was but a plain honest countryman, should give such education to so many of his children. But this, among others, is a proof of his extraordinary good sense and prudence.

Mr. Skelton entered on the cure of Monaghan with that eager zeal for the salvation of souls, which a warm sense of duty only could inspire. He felt the weight of the obligation imposed on him. Well assured that he must be accountable hereafter for his discharge of the awful trust committed to his care, he resolved to act as became one, whose hopes and fears were placed beyond the grave. Having now got rid of a troublesome tuition, which before had obstructed him in his pious exertions, he gave up all his thoughts and time to the instruction of his people. Their spiritual and temporal welfare was, I may say, the sole object of his care. He laboured earnestly in his ministry; he visited them from house to house, without distinction of sect; he conversed with them freely, mingling entertainment with his instruction. The children he catechised every Sunday evening in the church, and when they became thoroughly acquainted with the original catechism, as in the prayer-book, he made them learn the proof-catechism, which confirms and illustrates the doctrines of the other by texts of Scrip

ture. On a particular evening in the week, which he appointed, he invited people of every age to his lodgings, that he might instruct them in religion. And thus, by his means, they obtained a knowledge of their duty. I was told in Monaghan, that the children there knew more of religion at tha: time, than the adults in any of the neighbouring parishes.

In the pulpit he displayed that strong and manly eloquence, which arrests the attention of the hearers. He was neither a dully drowsy lecturer, who calls the congregation to sleep, nor one of the smooth pretty preachers, that tickle the ears of the frivolous and vain. No, he despised such modes of instruction. He explained to his hearers in plain and powerful language the threats and promises of the gospel; he declared to them the indispensable conditions of salvation; he placed, like a faithful servant of the Lord, heaven and hell before their eyes, and left them to make a choice for themselves. His large gigantic size, his strong expressive action, his clear distinct delivery, his power of changing the tone of his voice, and features of his face, to suit his purpose, and above all, the sincerity of his heart, made an irresistible impression on his hearers. They were insensibly carried away with him, they were astonished, they were convinced.

His life was conformable to his preaching. It was a pattern of every virtue, being decorated with piety, chastity, humility, and charity. For this last mentioned amiable quality, he was eminent perhaps above all others in Ireland. Being born, as he considered, for the benefit of the poor, he exerted all his endeavours to mitigate their sorrows. A great part of his annual pittance he gave them, and often scarcely allowed himself even the necessaries of life. Some particulars of his remarkable charities I shall relate in the sequel of this narrative. His life and preaching were attended with the success which he desired. The manners of his people were in a short time greatly improved, and vice and ignorance retreated before so powerful an opponent.

His fixed salary for the cure was 401. which, considering the cheapness of the necessaries of life in those times, was equal to double the sum now. The whole of this he got from his rector, as the curates in assizes-towns had then, I am