with the late Dr. Lowth, who was afterward raised for his learning to the bishoprick of London. Mr. Lowth was then, he said, a tall, thin, remarkably grave man. When he perceived Mr. Skelton was a clergyman from Ireland, he told him, he could have been highly promoted in the Irish church, but he refused it, as he did not wish to live in that country. "Well sir," replied Skelton, "there are good pickings in the Irish church, and some of your coun. trymen have no objections to come over and take a large share of them, to the great sorrow of us poor clergymen; natives of the land." Mr. Lowth, like every man of genius, was sensible of his own merits, which, he thought would raise him in the English church, where learning and abilities are respected and often rewarded. It was natural, therefore, as he had a choice, that he preferred promotion in his own country. Mr. Skelton had a high opinion of that learned and ingenius prelate, the late ornament of the English church, "Lowth on the Prophecies of Isaiah," he said, "is the best book in the world next to the Bible."

When he was in London, there was a man from the parish of Derriaghy, he assured us, that passed there for a wild Irishman, and was exhibited as a public show, dressed up with a false beard, artificial wings, and the like. Hundreds from all quarters flocked to see a strange spectacle, which they had often heard of before; and among others, a Derriaghy man, who happened to be in London, came in the crowd, and saw the wild Irishman, a hideous figure, with a chain about him, cutting his capers before a gaping multitude. Yet notwithstanding his disguise, he soon discovered, that this wild Irishman was a neighbour's son, a sober civilized young man, who had left Derriaghy a little before him. When the show was finished he went behind the scene, and cried out so as to be heard by his countryman, "Derriaghy, Derriaghy." Upon this the seeming wild Irishman, staring with surprise, spoke aloud," I'll go any place for Derriaghy." They had then a private meeting, when he told him, that being destitute of money, he took that method of gulling the English, and succeeded far beyond his expectations.

Mr. Skelton, while in London, once attended the levee, dressed in his gown and band. The king, he said, being

unable to lift up his feet as he walked, was forced to sweep them along the floor. His majesty as he passed him, stopped awhile and looked in his face, which might be owing to his striking appearance. Some of his friends then whispered to him, "You are in the way of promotion, the king has you in his eye." Possibly his majesty in his reign promoted persons less worthy of the royal patronage than the great and good Mr. Skelton.

He spent a great part of his time in going through the city purchasing books at a cheap rate, and laid out on these most of the money which he got by Deism Revealed, and obtained a good library for a curate. The managers of a review offered, he said, at that time, to enrol him among their number, and give him a share of their profit, on condition of his staying in London. But he refused, for he thought an Irish curacy a more secure provision, than the precarious subsistence to be acquired by criticism.

He went, through curiosity, to a certain cheap place to get his dinner, which cost him three halfpence, for which he got a quart of thick soup and a piece of bread. The soup was made up of broken meat collected from cook-shops, kitchens, and strolling beggars. However he did not choose to try the experiment a second time. He told us of his cheap dinner when he was teaching a young man to live on little money in Dublin.

In London he continued about half a year, and then returned to his curacy in Ireland. At sea, I am told, he had a dangerous voyage; the vessel he sailed in being nearly lost. The newspapers indeed gave an account that it was wrecked, and that all on board perished. But it pleased God to preserve his life some time longer for the benefit of mankind.

The first edition of Deism Revealed, published by Andrew Millar, in 1749, was comprised in two tolerably large octavo volumes. It consists of eight dialogues; in the first seven there are four, and the eighth only two, speakers. At first three unbelievers attack one Christian, who at last makes a convert of one of them, a young gentleman of great fortune, but of good sense and candour. In these dialogues, the most of the infidel objections against the gospel are introduced with their whole force, and fully and can

didly answered; so that the book is rather a complete answer to deistical cavils, than a regular proof of the divine authority of the gospel. But if their cavils are proved groundless, Christianity consequently is true.

The title of Deism Revealed shews it was intended to expose the craft of the infidels. In this book there is a great deal of good sense, sound argument, and original observation. It proves the author deeply read, and well acquainted with the subject of which he treats. But it is defective in point of arrangement; the matter is too loosely thrown together, the arguments do not follow each other in regular order. This remark, however, only applies to particular places. The style is also somewhat coarse; words are uselessly multiplied, and arguments drawn out beyond their proper bounds. The author in his attempts at wit, frequently fails; he is merry himself, but the reader unhappily cannot join with him in the joke. True wit subsists where the writer is grave, and the reader merry.

This book was in high repute on its first publication. A second edition was required in a little more than a year. Among others, Dr. Delany admired it, well pleased with the growing fame of his pupil, to whom he had proved himself so sincere a friend; and even now, there is scarce any man of reading in this country that has not at least heard of Deism Revealed. A few months after its publication, the bishop of Clogher happened to be in company with Dr. Sherlock, bishop of London; who asked him if he knew the author of this book? "O yes," he answered carelessly, "he has been a curate in my diocess, near these twenty years."-" More shame for your lordship," replied he, "to let a man of his merit continue so long a curate in your diocess."

The ingenious bishop of London sent a message once to inform Mr. Skelton, that he would promote him in his diocess, if he would write a book upon Christian morals. On which he desired the messenger to ask his lordship, what objection he had to the old Whole Duty of Man? To this question he never received any answer. The old Whole Duty of Man was one of his favourite books. The style, he said, was admirably qualified for instruction,

being so simple as to be easily understood by the most unlearned.

In 1749, he paid a visit to a distant northern bishop of great consequence, whose lady was what you may call, a learned woman, and had such influence over her husband as often to dispose of the livings to her own favourites; so that, as Mr. Skelton remarked, the lady was a sort of a bishop herself. She was on this account courted by the clergy, who humoured her in all her notions. She professed herself an admirer of Hutcheson's System of Moral Philosophy, and the clergy consequently approved of her taste. As she had a respect for Mr. Skelton's judgment, she took the following method to find out his opinion on this subject. Having lately got a new book written by one of Hutcheson's disciples, she ordered it to be put in the room in which he slept, naturally supposing he would examine it a little, and he did so. In the morning, an archdeacon, by the lady's directions, came to Skelton's room to sound him on the book, and asked him carelessly if he had read any of it? Yes, he told him, he had looked into it here and there. He then asked him how he liked it? He said but indifferently, for he thought there was a great deal of nonsense in it. This brought on a sort of dispute between them. At last Skelton said he would lay him a wager, that opening the book at any page he pleased, he would shew him nonsense in it before he read to the bottom. The archdeacon agreed; and while he was reading the page, Skelton stopped him now and then, and said, "that's nonsense ;"-" yes, it is," he owned; and thus he was forced to acknowledge there was nonsense in every page of it. The bishop's lady, when she heard how contemptibly he spoke of the book which she so highly esteemed, could scarcely keep her temper; especially as she was accustomed to be flattered in her notions by the clergy, who would never oppose her. She therefore resolved to affront Mr. Skelton in an open company, supposing a poor curate like him dare not say a word. Accordingly, after dinner, before the bishop and a large company of clergy and others, she said to him, " Mr. Skelton, I heard you preached in St. James's chapel when you were in Lon

don."-"Yes, madam, I did."-" Well, sir, a lady, a friend of mine, who heard you, told me you preached very absurdly, talking of hell's fire, and such coarse subjects, as are never introduced in so polite a place."-" Pray, madam, who is this lady, a friend of yours, that made these remarks on my preaching?"-" Such a lady, sir," she answered, naming her. "Oh!" he said, "she has a good right not to like sermons about hell's fire, for she is mistress to the archbishop of York, all London knows it."

This bishop, whose lady was so learned, having a niece unmarried, some people advised Mr. Skelton to court her and marry her, observing that he would get a good living by it; but they could not prevail on him to seek preferment from a connexion with that lady.

However, the time of his being promoted above the humble office of a curate at length arrived. In the year 1750, a large living fell in the diocess of Clogher; and immediately on the vacancy Dr. Delany, and another bishop waited on bishop Clayton, and told him, that if he did not give Skelton a living now, after disappointing them so often, they would take him out of his diocess. The bishop then gave him the living of Pettigo, in a wild part of the county of Donegal, having made many removals on purpose to put him in that savage place, among mountains, rocks, and heath. In the living of Pettigo he succeeded a Mr. Lindsay, who was removed to Enniskillen. When he had got this living he had been eighteen years curate of Monaghan, and two of Newtown-Butler, during which time he saw, as he told me, many illiterate boys put over his head, and highly preferred in the church without having served a cure.

The name of the parish is properly Templecarn; but as the church is placed in the small village of Pettigo, the people by custom call it the parish of Pettigo. This village is situate on the extremity of the counties of Donegal and Fermanagh; a little river that runs through it, over which a bridge is built, separates these counties from each other. It has a sort of a market on Mondays, and some stated fairs in the year. Even then there was probably some culture about this village, but the parts of the county