him for his insolence. This gave rise to the charge laid against him, which set forth, "that he was a wrangling, bullying clergyman, and a dangerous man to deal with, as he would readily strike any one who seemed offensive to him." The bishop disregarded their accusation, which was drawn up by one Little, who was rebuked by Mr. Skelton and Mr. Hawkshaw for his lewd pleasures. The common report is, that he leaped out of the reading-desk, and beat Wrightsome in the aisle. But a person of veracity who was present assured me, that he only threatened him in the manner I have mentioned.

At another vestry he was almost involved in a serious quarrel with a major of the army. The major having affronted him there, as he thought, when he came out of the church, he threw off his gown, and challenged him to fight him; "but the major," he remarked to us in conversation, "though he was one of the bravest men on earth, treated me with contempt; for he scorned to fight a clergyman." He thus candidly allowed him his merit. He always spoke with horror of his conduct on that occasion, and begged God's pardon, pleading as an excuse the violence of passion, which hastily incensed him to give the challenge. For in his serious and sober days he had an utter aversion to duelling, which he considered as sacrificing one's soul at the shrine of false honour.

He related a curious remark of Swift's upon an affair of honour of this nature. A friend came one morning to see the Dean in Dublin. The Dean bade him sit down. "No," he replied, "I cannot stay, I must go immediately to the park, to prevent two gentlemen from fighting a duel."-"Sit down, sit down," said the Dean, "you must not stir, let them fight it out, it would be better for the world that all such fellows should kill one another."

The strict attention that Mr. Skelton paid to the duties of his profession prevented his being engaged in the softer concerns of human life. I question if he ever was deeply in love, though it is certain that he made some advances in the passion. He seems indeed to have been proof against the fascinating charms of the fair, whose gentle weapons have conquered the greatest heroes and philosophers, and made them submit to their yoke. Monaghan was the

scene of his attempts in love, and possibly a short account of these may not be unentertaining to my readers.

He was once courting a young lady, and when they were just on the point of being married, she said to him one day, "My dear, as you are but a poor curate, how will you provide for our children ?"—" Why, my love," he answered, "suppose we have three sons, I'll make one of them a weaver, another a tailor, and the third a shoemaker, very honest trades, my jewel, and thus they may earn their bread by their industry."-"Oh!" she replied, never will I bring forth children for such mean occupations.' Well then," said he, "I have no other expectations, and of consequence you and I will not be joined together, for between your pride and his poverty poor Phil. Skelton will never be racked." Thus the match was broke off. Soon after this one S** S**, a fine fellow with a gold-laced waistcoat paid his addresses to the young lady, who was so much captivated with his appearance, and especially with the waistcoat, that she instantly married him without once inquiring how he would provide for her children. However, they lived very unhappily; he starved her, and she in turn was guilty both of drunkenness and adultery. Skelton often thanked God he did not marry her, observing that he had a fortunate escape, for she would surely have broken his heart. If she had married him, he said, she would have got rough plenty; but she preferred the man with the gold-laced waistcoat, and was thus deceived by outward show.

He paid his addresses once, he told me, to a young lady, who, in her conversation with him, began to talk boastingly of her great family, saying what grand relations she had, and the like. "Upon this," he remarked to me, "I found she would not answer for a wife to me; because she would despise me on account of my family, as my father was only a plain countryman, and therefore I thought it best to discontinue my addresses for the future."

Again, he was courting another young lady, and was just going to be married to her; when happening to find a gay airy young fellow in a private room with her, he, in his rage, took the beau with one of his hands and held him up

before her, as you would a puppet, then carrying him to the stairs, let him drop. When he had thus punished the gentleman, he broke off from the lady in a passion, and would never visit her again in the character of a lover. His brother Thomas strove to dissuade him from this resolution, telling him he ought to think the more of the young lady for having many admirers. But his advice did not avail, as he observed, that if she were fond of him, she would have no familiar intercourse with another.

He seemed indeed once to have had an ardent passion for a Miss Richardson, for in his eagerness to see her, he rode across the lake of Coothill in the great frost, without perceiving he was riding on ice. However, we may suppose his fondness soon began to cool. His situation of curate, I should think, made him cautious of plunging too deep into love. He knew that marriage must have confined him still more in his charities, which were always nearest to his heart; unless he could get a good fortune by it, a boon seldom conferred on one of his station. He therefore strove to keep down his passions by abstinence, and lived for two years at Monaghan entirely on vegetables. I was told indeed that he would once have been married to a young lady, had he not been disappointed of a living that was promised to him. He had however pure and refined notions of love; nor did he, like some others, affect to ridicule that gentle passion. He thought it cruel of a parent obstinately to thwart the affections of a child; unless there was a glaring impropriety in the choice. "Poor things (he used to say of two lovers), since they love one another, they should let them come together, it is a pity to keep them asunder."

In 1741, he published the Necessity of Tillage and Granaries, in a letter to a member of parliament. The art of cultivating the ground, next to the care of our souls, is certainly the most useful to man. Consequently, any piece of writing, which has agriculture for its object, is worthy of attention. The estate of the member of parliament, to whom this letter is addressed, lay in the south of Ireland, though of a soil admirably fit for tillage, by a pernicious sort of management, was applied almost entirely to grazing; and its condition is yet too much in need of im

provement. In this letter he shews by the strongest arguments the excellence of agriculture over pasturage, advising the gentlemen of fortune, from motives of private interest, to encourage the one in preference to the other. As a consequence of the neglect of tillage, and the want of public granaries, he takes notice of a horrible famine that prevailed in this country for the two years before he published his letter. "It was computed, that as many people died of want, or of disorders occasioned by it, during that time, as fell by the sword in the massacre and rebellion of fortyone. Whole parishes in some places were almost desolate; the dead were eaten in the fields by dogs, for want of people to bury them." The letter proves his knowledge in agriculture, and contains many excellent precepts, which, if put in practice, would help to civilize the south of Ireland, which is sunk in idleness and sloth, and ready on every occasion to burst forth into acts of violence and disorder. Its style is remarkably perspicuous, though somewhat tinctured with vulgarity, which might possibly be owing to the nature of the subject which it treats of. It has been remarked by some judges of agriculture, that many of his calculations in favour of the farmer will not hold good in practice.

In the same year he published, in the transactions of the Royal Society, a piece entitled "A Curious Production of Nature." It gives an account of a great number of caterpillars, that crawled (in 1737) on some trees in the county of Monaghan, leaving behind them a fine silken web on the bark of the trees. Some of these continued for two years, but were nearly all destroyed by the frost in the terrible winter of forty. Many distempers, he imagined, are owing to invisible insects.

About this time he was nearly brought into difficulty by an anonymous publication. His brother Thomas having a quarrel with one Steers, who first carried on the Newry canal, prevailed on him to write a pamphlet against him, which was very severe, and vexed Steers so much that he threatened a prosecution. The printer told him he must for his own sake declare his name; on which Mr. Hawkshaw advised him to conceal himself, until the storm would blow over, an advice which he found it prudent to take. How

ever, the man's passion cooling after a while, he ventured to come out from his retreat.

Having now given up all hopes of preferment from the bishop of Clogher, he accepted (in 1742) of the tuition of the present earl of Charlemont. Mr. Hawkshaw advised him to make a trial of it, as it might tend to advance him in the world, offering in the mean time to keep the cure open for him. His tuition seemed at first so agreeable to him, that he wrote to Mr. Hawkshaw to dispose of the cure of Monaghan, for he would stay where he was on account of the civility he met with. Accordingly, Mr. Hawkshaw began to look out for a curate, and had nearly fixed upon one, when he received a letter from Skelton, informing him, he would quit the tuition and resume his cure. This sudden change of sentiment in him it is necessary to account for.

Mr. Adderley, who had married lady Charlemont, and was guardian to the minor, on her death, would lose his place if he could not procure sufficient security. He applied to Skelton, who, by his acquaintance with one Law, cashier to the bank of Fede and Wilcocks, got that bank to promise to give security. At this time, the bank of Mr. Dawson offering the same, Mr. Adderley gave it the preference. Skelton was angry at him for putting him to so much trouble, and then making a fool of him. This was the beginning of their quarrel. He also, it seems, gave lord Charlemont some advice that was disagreeable to Mr. Adderly.*

This little dispute with the guardian producing some ill humour between them, Skelton determined to resign the tuition, and took the following method to give him warning of his intention. Mr. Skelton, and he, and some more company, sitting one day after dinner over a glass of wine, Mr. Adderley said to Skelton, who was tedious in drinking his glass, "You are hunted Mr. Skelton;"-"Yes sir," said he, I have been hunted by you this some time past, but you shall hunt me no more." Accordingly he gave up the care of his lordship's education, and returned to his cure.

It appears, that even then Mr. Skelton had a very high opinion of lord Charlemont. Soon after he left him he pub

This intelligence relating to Mr. A. I received at Monaghan from a person, to whom Mr. Hawkshaw recommended me to apply for authentic information.