animated production, fraught with excellent advice; but, appears by its style to have been written in a hurry, as the times were too confused to afford leisure for a polished composition. It shews, that the Pretender had no real hope of success but one-the horrible wickedness of these kingdoms, which might justly bring down on them the divine vengeance.

The people, he said, in many parts of the north were possessed then with a terrible dread of the Highlanders, whom they expected every day to come over on them. At that time he told us, a doughty captain of militia and his men were parading and exercising on a rainy day to prepare for combat, and when they had finished their manœuvres, went to a public house to regale themselves, and dry their clothes, and were sitting at the fire burning their shins and boasting of what feats they would do, when the woman of the house, who happened to be out, opening the back door, shouted to her husband, "Johnny, Johnny, here are the Highlanders at the back door." On this the captain and his men all started up, and ran out of the other door in dread of their lives, leaving their arms behind them. They ran near a mile across the country, without looking back, until at last, hearing no shots, nor any one pursuing, they ventured to look back, and all was quiet. Their fears, it seems, put a wrong interpretation on the good woman's words. Her husband had lately got from the Highlanders, two Scotch ponies, which to distinguish them they called Highlanders. These having a few days before strayed to the adjacent mountains, could not be found until the rain brought them home; and the woman, rejoiced to see them, shouted to her husband, "Johnny, here are the Highlanders at the back door;" which the militia-men supposing to be the real Highlanders took to their heels to save themselves, and thus were frightened away by two Scotch ponies.

Bishop Sterne having about this time finished his earthly career, the see of Clogher was conferred on Dr. Clayton, the notorious author of the "Essay on Spirit." His lordship being a professed Arian in principle, it could not be expected that there would be a close coincidence of opinion between him and Mr. Skelton. Whenever they happened

to come into contact, they generally began to dispute. The bishop, as it may be supposed, always gave the first blow, and Skelton stood resolutely on the defensive. The polemic weapons were handled on both sides with sufficient skill; probably to the amusement of the by-standers. But the bishop in dignity of character and station had the advantage over poor Skelton, whose only dependence was upon the strength of his arguments. He told me, the bishop. once made a speech to him a whole hour long against the Trinity, to which he was forced to listen with respectful attention." I was then on the watch," he observed, "to see if I could catch hold of any thing the bishop said, for I knew I would not be allowed to speak five minutes in my turn, as I was but a poor curate." Accordingly, he perceived some flaw in the bishop's arguments, and when he had finished his oration, asked his lordship how he reconciled that with the rest of what he said, for he appeared to contradict himself? His lordship, who never suspected the weakness of his own reasoning, seemed startled at Skelton's objection; but when he pressed him, according to the Socratic mode, with the absurdity of his own arguments, his lordship was perplexed, and had nothing to say. Mr. Skelton told me all the particulars of this dispute with the bishop, which I cannot now recollect, but I know, I was convinced at the time, that Skelton had gained a complete victory. Yet, however honourable all this might be to Mr. Skelton, or consistent with his duty, it could not at all be conducive to his private interest. Every victory of this sort gained by a curate over a bishop, like that of Pyrrhus over the Romans, tends only to lessen his power, and may probably defeat him at last. The livings, as usual, were given away to others, and no notice taken of Skelton, who had then sufficiently distinguished himself by lite

rature.

His constitution, he imagined, was impaired by the unlucky accident he met with at the long-bullets, and hence he became subject to hypochondriac complaints. Once, while curate of Monaghan, he was strangely affected by this malady. Mr. Hawkshaw and his lady going to Manorwater-house took him in their carriage along with him; but he had got only a short way on the road when he told him

that he was just on the point of death, and begged they would stop the carriage and let him out, that he might die in peace. He repeated his request three or four times without effect, for Mrs. Hawkshaw, who knew his little weakness, would not humour him in his notions. Her refusal, as it was expected, helped to cure him of his disorder, of which he got quite free before he arrived at the place appointed. The most sensible men are liable to some infirmities, which shew, they are not exempt from the general lot of humanity.

He used to pay frequent visits to old Archdeacon Cranston, who lived near Monaghan, and generally walked to his house with a cudgel in his hand. One day, while he was thus equipped, he was attacked at the door by a huge mastiff, which he kept off with his cudgel after many attempts to seize him. This amused the old archdeacon and Mr. Hawkshaw, who were looking on at the diversion.

The old archdeacon was then far advanced in age. His death, it seems, had been often wished for, but this did him no harm; he lived, if possible, the longer on that account. Mr. Skelton said to him one day, "You have lived a long time, sir, in the diocess of Clogher, and I dare say you have seen many changes in it."-" Oh yes (he replied in a drawling voice), I have seen a great many changes in it; I remember about twenty years ago, the bishop of Clogher of that time had a fine young man a nephew, whom he wished to promote highly in his diocess, and had given one good living already, which it seems was not enough for him, for he was going to get him married to Squire Knox's daughter of Dungannon. Upon this he told the squire, that, beside the living he had, he would get my living, as I was just going to die; but you see I have long outlived the nephew, and his uncle the bishop too."-" Well sir,” said Skelton, "would you be content to die now ?"—" Why, if I could live till after the next crop would come in, for the sake of my friends, I would not care much." I then asked Mr. Skelton if he got the next crop? "Yes he did," he answered, "and another one too, and then he died."

He also went as often as convenient to see Mr. Pringle * I was told this anecdote at Monaghan, but not by Mr. Hawkshaw.

of Caledon, about ten miles from Monaghan, where he spent his time very pleasantly. On his first coming there he had a curious adventure which deserves to be related. Mr. Pringle's father, who was then alive, being very old and doting, was unfit to manage his house, which was left to the direction of his son, who in fact was master of all. Consequently, he had a right to ask what company he thought proper. This gentleman invited Mr. Skelton to dine with him, and Archdeacon East, who had lately come to the parish, telling them that his father was doting, and not to be offended at any thing he said. When he introduced the archdeacon to his father, he said, "Father, this is archdeacon East, the clergyman of the parish, who has come to dine with us to-day."-" Ay ay," observed the old man, "come East, come West, come North, come South, you all come here to fill your bellies." When the dinner was brought in the old man refused to sit at the table with them, but took his seat in an adjoining room with the door quite open, where he watched them to see how much they would eat. Mr. Pringle placed Skelton just opposite the door, desiring him to eat voraciously, and take large mouthfuls. Accordingly he began to devour up the dinner as if he were starving, stuffing his mouth with huge lumps of meat and bread. The old man staring at him awhile, at last cried to his son, "Johnny, Johnny, see that fellow, he'll eat you up." Skelton then shouted out aloud to the servant, "give me a tumbler of wine," whispering to him to put some water in it. "Ah ah !" the old man cried, a whole tumbler of wine, Johnny don't give it to him; where did you come from, sir, ?" After dinner Mr. Skelton brought him a glass of wine, and bowing presented it to him, which he snapt from him, and drank up most greedily. When he gave it to him again, he said, to him " What trade are you, sir?"-"A gospeller," replied Skelton. "A gospeller, a gospeller, what trade's that?"-"A preacher of the gospel." "Ah man!" he said, "that's a brave trade, I thought you were a pedlar." In the evening a fine lady happened to be in company with him, who took great airs on her, but he soon said to her before a room full of people, “ Madam, you are flaunting about now with your fine dress, and think yourself so great, but I remember your father a poor

servant in the country here." The old man, it seems, though he was doting, hit upon the truth.

Mr. Pringle in his will appointed Mr. Skelton executor to his children, an office which he discharged with great fidelity, as his son the present Mr. Pringle of Caledon assured me. I question if he ever committed, with his knowledge, a single act of injustice.

Some years after, a Mr. Clarke, who had married his brother Thomas's daughter, made him executor, leaving his fortune at his disposal. To the widow, who I believe, had no child, he gave as much as he thought just, and the rest to the Clarkes. This lady was afterward married to Mr. Ennis an attorney.

Lord Orrery, when he lived at Caledon-castle, often invited Mr. Skelton to come and see him. Once his lordship did him the honour to dine with him at his lodgings in Monaghan, a short time before he went to London to publish "Deism Revealed."

This was a work, he thought, of too great importance to be published in Ireland, and therefore he resolved to take it to London. Accordingly, his rector having offered to do duty for him in his absence, and pay him his salary, he set out for that metropolis (in 1748) to dispose of it. In this expedition he was accompanied by a Mr. Thompson, a clergyman.

Having taken Oxford in his way, he shewed his production to Dr. Connebear. This good man, who himself stood forth a strenuous supporter of our faith, after slightly looking over the manuscript, approved of it as far as he went. He then took down from his library the Essays of Mr. Hume, whose curious method of weighing evidences, as a small dealer does his ware, is so much admired by his ingenious disciples. "Have you seen these," he said, "that we lately published?" Mr. Skelton replied he had not; but on reading parts of them here and there, he remarked that he had anticipated answers to the chief of Mr. Hume's objections. However, in compliance with Dr. Connebear's desire, he introduced Hume's cavils about a balance, and answered them on the principles of common sense, which that gentleman, in his refinements, seems to have forgotten. It is still to be lamented, that the enemies of truth are often