The Dublin scuffle being a challenge sent by John Dunton, citizen of London, to Patrick Campbel, bookseller in Dublin : together with small skirmishes of bills and advertisements : to which is added the billet doux sent him by a citizens wife in Dublin, tempting him to lewdness, with his answers to her : also some account of his conversation in Ireland, intermixt with particular characters of the most eminent persons he convers'd with in that kingdom ... : in several letters to the spectators of this scuffle, with a poem on the whole encounter.

Some Account of my Conversa∣tion in Ireland: In a Letter to an Honourable Lady, &c.

Madam,

I AM extreamly satisfied to have the Honour of knowing you so well, as to know that you hate to be Flatter'd; and so hope you will not think me guilty of that Crime, when I profess to you, That I esteem the Favour of having a Correspondence with you, to be One of the Chief∣est Blessings of my Life. And therefore I ought to take all Opportunities to shew my self worthy of it: which I could not be, should I suffer my Repu∣tation to be Attack'd, without Defending it: And having met with some Unhandsome Treatment, from a Person in Dublin, to whom I never offer'd the Least Injury, (unless he thinks telling him the Truth to be such) I am willing to have my CAVSE TRYD AT YOVR BAR; who, as you will not Favour the Guilty, so neither will you Condemn the Innocent. And whether I am such or not, THE PRECEDING SCVFFLE will give you the clearest Idea. But since no Man's Profession will Justifie him, without a Correspondent Practice, I have design'd this Letter to give you some account of my CONVERSATION (or Method of Living) whilst I was in Ireland.

The occasion of my first going into this Kingdom, is so well known, and manifestly lawful, that I shall not so much as hint at it in this place: But how my Conversation has been, while I resided there, is the task that lies now upon me to set forth in a true Light; which I will do with such sincerity, that I will even dissect my Breast to you; and at the same time make (not only Your Ladyship, but) the WHOLE WORLD my Confessor: But still, with this Restri∣ction, as far as my frail Nature and weak Memory will permit me; and where that's defective, if any where Invention has supply'd it, I hope you'll excuse it. For Madam, you'll find (at least they will that are touch'd in the following Pages) that

Whatsoe're of ••iction I bring in, 'Tis so like Truth, it seems at least a kin.

Madam, this ACCOVNT OF MY CONVER∣SATION was all writ in hasse; and most of it at Pat's Coffee-house in Dublin, as People were dinning my Ears with News, or some Query's about my Auction: So that if neither Method nor Stile is what might be expected from me (when I address to you) I hope to make some amends in my Summer Ram∣ble, which I shall dedica••e to your Ladyship, as an acknowledgment of the Honour you did me, in cor∣responding with me whilst in Ireland; and for your attempts since to quiet my Mind upon the loss of one of my best Friends (for I may call D—e so, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 high Birth, Vertue, Wit, and Constancy, can intitle to that Character.) But to proceed to the ACCOVNT OF MY CONVERSATION.

This Madam, (for Methods sake) will best be comprehended under Two General Heads; viz. Th•• Discharge of my Duty towards God, and towards Man: These two contain the whole of a Christian: And if •• take the Great Apostle of the Gentiles for my Guide. I hope I shall not wander out of my way: For he has declar'd, this was his care, to keep a Con∣science void of offence both towards God, and towards Man.

The first of these Heads, which respects God, com∣prehends all the Duties of Religion; which is a thing in this Age admits of so many several Modes and Forms, that without some further Explanation, it is difficult to know what is meant by it. For a Man can now no sooner speak of Religion, but the next question is, Pray what Religion are you of •• I need not tell you, Madam, That Religion in general, is a sense of our Duty to God, and the W••rship we owe to him, according to the best of our Vnderstandings, in order to the obtaining of a blessed Immortality. And this likewise consists in two parts; First, in its Prin∣ciples; and Secondly, in putting those Principles in Practice; For Principles without Practice, ••each Men•• to be Hypocrites, but never make 'em Christi∣ans. They may indeed by a Profession of Religion, deceive others; but without the Practice of it, they more fatally deceive themselves. I will therefore, Madam, in the first place, shew you what my Prin∣ciples are, and then give you an Account of what my Practice was in Dublin.

If then you ask me (Madam) what Perswasion I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of? My Answer is, I am that which the Disciples were called at Antioch; that is, I am a Christian: a Follower of Christ, a Servant of God, the Wor••d•• Master, and my own Man. I do not think Religion to consist so much in Nam••s as Things: Christ's Church is not limited to any Nation or Party; but ex∣tends to all Places, is propagated in all Ages, and con∣taineth all saving Truth; and in this S••nce is Vniver∣sal or Cath••lick; and therefore I love a Good Man, of whatever Profession; or by what Name 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Title soever he's distinguish'd. A good Navigator can sail with any Wind; and why shou'd not a Christi∣an be as dextrous to improve all Opportunities that may facilitate his passage to the heavenly Ca••••an? The various lines that are made from different parts of the Circumference, may all tend to one and the same Center. I have a large Charity, and exercis•• it to all in whom I see Goodness and Vertue shew it self, whatever their particular Perswasions are. And conformable to this Opinion, was my Practice in

Dublin. One Sunday I heard Dr. Stern, another Mr. Sinclare, a third Mr. Searl, a fourth Mr. Boyse, a fifth Mr. Weld, a sixth the Anabaptist in Francis-street. And when William Penn came thither, I went with the crowd to hear him: For when I think of George Keith in London, and William Dobbs in Dub∣lin (Two Persons of Great Sense, and as strict Ju∣stice) I must think that some Quakers are Christi∣ans; and, for ought I know, we contend with 'em about Words, while we think the same thing: Sure I am, their Celebrated Light within, is what we call the Dictates of Conscience; and if we could but get 'em to Baptism and the Lord's Supper, we should begin to call 'em Brethren. And thus you see, by my going one Sunday to one Perswasion, and a se∣cond to another, that I can go to Heaven with any Wind, and with any Name; and shall think it an hap∣piness to go into Canaan, tho it were through a Red Sea.

(Madam,) 'Tis true I was born to travel, and am now pursuing my Destiny: but if I wander the Length of the Map, and never see you here, yet I hope we shall meet in Heaven at last: What tho we di••fer in our Way thither? (I hope we pardon one another). Men go to China both by the Streights and by the Cape. The Good Men of Ireland (such as Bishop King, and Mr. Boyse) perhaps, contend about words, when they heartily think the same thing. But whatever the Opinions of others are in Polemi∣cal Matters, yet as to my self, I dare boldly say, I am, or should be, an Honest Man; for Vertue is my Business; my Writing is my Recreation: (which made Iris say, she'd bury me with a Pen in my Hand.) God is my Father, the Church my Mother, (I need not say this or that Church, if I am sound in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Points) the Saints my Brethren, and all that need 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my Friends; and I am likewise too, a Friend to my self, for shall I have it, and want Necessaries? Wh•• though I am now in a far Country, yet I have in my self (as Randolph says) an Houshold-government; and where e're I go, do intend to live,

Lord of my self, accountable to none, But to my Conscience, and my God alone.

Now, Madam, give me leave to say, however Romantick some may think this to be, That I have found (notwithstanding my many Infirmities) more Peace and Satisfaction in the discharge of a good Conscience, than in all the Pleasures this World can give.

In the next place, Madam, I shall give you a short Diary of my Practice in Ireland, with respect to Re∣ligion; but I will first give you a Relation of a Ren∣counter I had with a sort of Atheist I met in Dublin.

I need not tell ye, Madam, That Atheism and Ir∣religion abounds every where, (for your last Letter suggested as much) and the cause is apparent; for when Men have given themselves up so long to the Conduct of their own Lusts, that they have Reason to fear the Justice of God due to 'em for their Sins, they would fain hope to secure themselves, by deny∣ing his Being: I can't say this Lewd Fellow I met in Dublin, absolutely deny'd the Being of a God; (and I much question whether there be a profest Atheist in the World;) yet I may say his Discourses (as well as his manner of living) had so much of Atheism in 'em, as they made me tremble: I won't insert his Atheistical Discourses, for they are better forgot than publish'd; but I'll send you some of the Arguments I us'd to refute his Atheistical Notions: Whether they satisfy'd him or not, I can't say, for he made little reply: I am sure my design was good; but whether I argued as I ought, I leave you, Madam, to judge; what I advanc'd, was to this Effect, viz.

There are two ways for us to attain to the Know∣ledge of God, (or a First Principle) by whom the World was made; the one is Natural, the other, Supernatural: That which I call Supernatural, I what God has revealed in his Word, wherein he has given us the clearest Idea of himself, as he by whom all things were made: But because they who deny

the Being of a God, do generally make a scoff as his Word, I will only insist upon that which is Na∣tural. Nature informs us that there was a Sove∣reign Being, the Author and Preserver of all things: This Truth I can see with my Eyes: when I either behold the Earth, view the Heavens, or reflect up∣on my self: When I see such things as are not made but by a Superior Cause, I am obliged to ac∣knowledge and adore a Being which cannot be made, and which made all things else. When I consider my self, I am sure that I could not be with∣out a beginning; therefore it follows, That a Per∣son like me, could not give me to be; and by con∣sequence, this puts me upon seeking out a First Being; who having had no Beginning, must be the Original of all other things. When my Reason conducts me to this First Principle, I conclud•• evi∣dently that this Being cannot be limited, because Limits suppose a Necessity of Production and De∣pendance: And if unlimited, it must be a Sove∣reign and Incomprehensible Being: And this pre∣vents all curious Enquirers from comprehending what God is; For who can define that which is Vn∣limited, or comprehend that which is Incomprehensible: One must be blind indeed, to be ignorant of a First Principle; but one must be infinite, like him, to be able to speak exactly of him: For the most that can be said by us, though it may perhaps content the Curious, yet it can never satisfie the Rational Soul.

This, Madam, was the Substance of what I spake on that Occasion; which, as I said before, I leave to your Censure. And to be yet more free with you, I have those awful Thoughts of the Divine Being, that I would never think of him, but with the most pro∣found Veneration; and therefore always choose to think of him rather in the Abstract, than the Concrete; for if I think him Good, my finit•• thought is ready to terminate that Good in a conceived Subject; and if I conceive him Great, my bounded Con••••••t is apt to ••ast him into a comprehensible Figure; I would there∣fore

conceive him a diffused Goodness without Quality, and represent him an ••ncomprehensible Greatness without Quantity—And therefore I choos•• (as Mr. Ellis advises) to sh•••• all gross Representations of God, or ••ikening him so much 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in my Thought, to any Creature; I am not to Worship him after my own Con∣ceit or Fancy, but according to the Rules he hath giv••n in his Word.—And to speak my Thoughts of Religion in a few Words, I look upon that to be the best Religion, which is pure and peaceable, and tak••s no pleasure in the Expence of Blood; whose Principles are consonant to the Word of God; and which takes most from the Creature, and gives most to the Creator: This is that Religion which I assure my self is the Right, which I will endeavour to practise while I Live, and rely on when I Die.

And this brings me to (what I promisd) an Ac∣count of my Practice in Dublin; which I will give you in the Form of a Diary.

I freely acknowledge, Madam, That the Sacred Oracles of the Old and New Testaments, do sufficient∣ly instruct us in the Performance of all those Duties which God requires of us. But tho the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments are the very Word of God, which holy Men of God spake and wrote as they were moved by the Holy Ghost, and contain all things necessary to salvation, and are the standing Sealed Rule of Faith and Life; yet I believe that every one has some particular Mode of his own, by which he steers the Course of his Devotions; especially as to what he performs in his Closet.

But to proceed to my Diary: And here I shall first acquaint you how I spend Saturday.

Saturday is usually a Day of Hurry and Business, with the generality of Men▪ and as the same winds up the Week, so do People their Affairs: But for my own part, I confess, I never affect multiplicity of Business on that Day; but on the contrary, have frequently shun'd it, tho' I have observ'd it has of∣ten fallen to my share upon these Days to have a great deal; for last Saturday I was so taken up with Ad∣justing

some Controversies that did arise concerning the Affairs of my Auction, that I had hardly leisure to take my Dinner; however they were terminated so much the more to my satisfaction, by how much all Parties were brought to acquiesce in my determina∣tion. By this you see, Madam, I am no Sabbata∣rian; but for those that are, I am so far from having any hard Thoughts of them, that I both pity and respect them; for I can never believe 'tis an Error of Wilfulness, but of Ignorance only in them: and whereas I do understand divers of them, at least, make a Conscience of keeping both Days, because they would be sure to be right; I think I have just reason to honour them for it, and cannot choose but think much better of them, than those who totally deny the Morality of the Sabbath day.

I confess, Madam, I do not remember to have read any thing material concerning the Controversie about the said Days, and that I am as much at a loss to know certainly when our Christian Sabbath begins, when there is such a variation in the Site of Places and Countries; and that now we experimentally find, where 'tis Day in one place, 'tis Night in another. And, Madam, as I know of no Person living, with whom I can so well satisfie my Scruples, and inform my Understanding than your self, who are so well skill'd both in Polemical and Practical Divinity, so I humbly request your Sentiments in this Case, promi∣sing to make your Practice my own.

But, Madam, having told you how I spend Saturday, I am next to inform you how I spend the Sabbath: For in the Practice of Religion, I look upon the Sanctifying of the Lord's Day, to be a principal part. Judge Hales recommends to his Children a very strict Observation of the Lord's Day; and tells 'em, That he had always found that his Worldly Affairs thriv'd either more or less, (the following Week) as he had kept the Sabbath. And therefore on Sunday I usually took leave of my Bed sooner than on other Days; and strive to dismiss as much as I can, all Worldly Affairs out of my Thoughts; tho I have found 'em, I acknowledge,

(like the Flies that spoil the Apothecaries Ointment) 〈◊〉〈◊〉 most unseasonably thrusting themselves in.

The Publick Worship of God, being the principal Duty of this Day, I made it my Practice to bow my Knees before my Maker in private, before I went thither, and there beg his Blessing on the Publick Ordinances; and previous thereto, have us'd to read some Portion of the Holy Scriptures; being told therein, that every thing is Sanctified by the Word of God, and Prayer; which is so much the Advantage of a Christian, that I always thought, never Prayer rightly made, was made unheard, or heard ungrant∣ed: And I believe that Prayer is rightly made, which is made to God in the Name of Christ, in Faith, and offer'd up with Humility.

When I come to the House of God, (I mean the place of his Worship, whether it be a Church, or a Meeting-House) I always keep my self uncover'd whilst I continue there: For as Holiness becomes his House, so does a Behaviour mix'd with Reverence and Godly Fear, in all that wait upon him. And therefore during the Time of Prayer▪ I either Kneel or Stand up, (believing the humblest Posture to be best, when I am invocating the Majesty of Heaven) and fixing my Eyes upwards, I endeavour to apply every part of God's Worship to my own Conscience, and the present State of my own Soul.

I love those Sermons best, that check my Conscience for Sin, and cheer it with applying Gods Mercy; be∣ginning with the Law, and ending with the Gospel; searching the Wound first, and pouring in the Oyl of Consolation afterwards: And those I reckon the worst Preachers, that sooth M••n up in their Sins; per∣swading Men they are good Christians, when they don't know what 'tis to be Born again.

Yet I don't love to be Pragmatical, in censuring of Ministers; I endeavour, like the Industrious Bee to suck Honey from the Flowers of Devotion; and not like the Spider, to convert what was intended for Nourishment, into Poyson. If any thing drops from the Pulpit, which I think not so per∣tinent, I cover it with the Mantl•• of Love, and

strive to remember that which is better: For as the Divine Herbert observes; If the P••rson be dull, God Preaches to the Hearers, a Lecture of Pati∣ence.

In the Singing of Psalms, I labour more to have my Soul inflam'd with Love and Zeal, than to have my Spirits cheer'd either by the Harmony of Voices, or sound of the Organ; and cou'd heartily wish that Sternhold and Hopkins's Psalms (tho'well enough 150 Years ago) were now remov'd, and Mr. Tate's Tran∣slation put in their place.—As to the Receiving the Holy Sacrament, it has ever been my Opinion, that whoever participates of that Solemn Ordinance (lest he Eats and Drinks Damnation) shou••d retire himself from the World for a Day at least, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by a strict re∣collection of his Actions, and serious examination of his own Life (attended with Fasting and Prayer) en∣deavour so to prepare himself, that he may come as a Worthy Receiver to the Tab••e of the Lord, that so by the Strength he receives by that Spiritual Viaticum, he may be inabled to run with Pa••ience the Race that is set before him: and therein (through the Assistance of Divine Grace) so to run as to obtain the Prize.

After the Publick Duties of the Day are over, I re∣turn to my Chamber, and enter into my Closet, spending some time therein, in Meditating on what I have heard, and in reiterated Addresses to the Throne of Grace, to follow it with his Blessing: Well know∣ing, that tho Paul may Plant, and Apollo Water, yet it is God that teaches me to profit. And if in the Even∣ing (as sometimes there does) a Friend comes to vi∣sit me; I spend my time with him in discoursing on Divine things; whereby our Hearts are warmed, and our Affections stirred up to praise God for his Good∣ness; and hereby find the Benefit of the Communion of Saints, which is too much neglected, tho' an Ar∣ticle of the Creed. Sure I am all the Members of the Mystical Body of Christ, have Fellowship with the Father and Son, by one Holy Spirit; with A••gels in their Love, Care and Ministries, with the Saints in Heaven in their Love and Prayers, and with one another in the same Faith, Hope, Word and Sacrament; and

therefore shou'd often confer about Heavenly things, holding the Vnity of the Spirit in the Bond of Peace.

The Operations of the Mind being in their own Nature much more fatigueing than the Labours of the Body; it's my usual Custom on Sunday Night, to go somewhat sooner to Bed than ordinary: However, I durst not adventure to go and compose my self to such a rest as so much resembles Death it self (and from which many have awaked in Eternity) with∣out recommending my self to the Care and Protecti∣on of the Almighty; and to this I have endeavour∣ed always to have the greater regard, since b••sides the Divine Authority, which plainly injoyns it, it's a Duty so clearly manifested even by the light of Na∣ture, that 'tis a wonder almost that any should neg∣lect it. I hope you do not, Madam, take this as either Dictating or Reproving, when 'tis never meant so by me, who have justly entertained quite other Conceptions of you; and am so far from supposing my self▪ Pattern in any respect for your Imitation, that I should think my self in danger of running into the notion of a Perfectionist, if I could but come near you.

This Madam, is the Method in which I wou'd spend the Sabbath; and is what I have endeavour'd to practise; tho' I must own, to my shame, with so much weakness, and so many Infirmit••es, that it seems rather an Account of what I ought to do, than of what I have done: For tho' 'tis my Duty to watch nar∣rowly over my Heart, Affections, and Thoughts, and all my Outward Actions, and in a more particular man∣ner shou••d look upon the Sanctifying of the Lord's Day to be a Principal part of Religion, yet I must own I have not been so careful as I ought, to San∣ctifie the Lord in my Heart on that Day, or perform some Duties that were incumbent upon me. I have not made 〈◊〉〈◊〉 my Fear and my Dread, as I ought; but have indulg'd my self in Sloth, spoken my own Words, and thought my own Thoughts, contrary to God's Holy Will and Commandment.

I must also accuse my self of being too negligent 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Preparing my self to attend upon God in his So∣lemn

and Publick Appointments, rushing often into his Presence without that due Preparation which he requires.

Neither have I behav'd my self in his House with that Fear and Reverence as I ought, nor heard God's Word with that Attention, which so Awful a Message call'd for; nor improv'd it to my Spiritual Nourish∣ment, as I ought to have done.

I am also sensible, that I have been more ready to ••ind fault with the Minister, than to obey the Message he has brought; and have not spoken of other Men and their Affairs, with that Care, Charity, and A••∣••ection, as I should have done, but rather have dis∣cover'd their Defects.

I likewise acknowledge, That in singing of Psalms, I have not sung with that Grace in my Heart which God's Word requires; and have had my Ears more tickled with the Harmony of the Musick, than my Soul inflam'd with Zeal to sing the Praises of God.

I do also confess, I have not had such Sorrow and Repentance for my Sins past, as I ou••••t; nor have used such Diligence in the daily Examining of my Conscience, and Amendment of my Life, as I should have done.

I have also reason to be humbled, that I han't of∣fer'd up my Prayers unto God, with ala••••ity and fervour of Spirit as I shou'd have done, but have been often Distracted, Slothful, and Cold in my Devotions.

I also acknowledge I have been Proud and Vain-glorious in my Words and Actions.

I have not thought so humbly of my self, as I shou••d have done; nor kept my Senses in the House of God, with that care as became a Christian, es∣pecially my Eyes and my Ears.

For all which, and many more Errors of my Life, which through Neglect and Inadvertency, may have escap'd my Cognizance, I humbly beg Pardon and Forgiveness of the Father of Mercies.

Thus (Madam) with the Pelican, have I dissected my Heart, to shew you where the Defects of Hu∣manity reside.

I have here (as I told you before) made the whole World (but principally your self) my Confessor: I will only add as to this Point, That if my Tongue and Heart agree not in this Confession, my Confession will be of no value; he that confesses with his Tongue, and wants Confession in his Heart, is either a vain Man, or an Hypocrite; and he that confes••es with his Heart, and wants it in his Tongue, is either Proud or Timorous.

Madam, having given you some Account how I endeavour'd to spend the Sabbath in Dublin, I shall 〈◊〉〈◊〉 inform y•• how I spent my time on the Week-Days.

I have told you (in the Account I gave you of spending Sunday) that 'twas my Practice to go to Bed sooner on those Nights than at other times. I shall further add, That I am no sooner lain down on Sunday Night, but I compose my self to rest, being so far from being terrified with Apparitions, Spec∣trums, and the like, as I have heard some have been; who for that very Reason, durst never lie alone; that I humbly Adore th•• Majesty of Heaven for it, I fear nothing but God and Sin.

When I awake, I am transported to find my self so sprightly every way; which made me often won∣der, what an excellent thing Sleep was; considering it as an inestimable Jewel; for an hour of which, if a Tyrant laid down his Crown, he should not be able to purchase it▪ That it was that Golden Chain which tyed Health and our Bodies together; and that while sleeping, none complained of Pains, Wants, Cares, or Captivities. And that though the Story of Endymion's Nap for Threescore and Fifteen Years, and then awaking as lively as if he had slept but six hours, be in it self but a meer Fable, yet the Moral is good, and plainly indicates the Necessity and Usefulness of Rest to our Natures, as instituted by the God of Nature Himself.

But to proceed in my Journal. In the Morning, as soon as the Cinque-Ports are open, I send up some Private Ejaculations to Heaven, giving God thanks▪ that my Eyes are open to see the Light of another

Day. After this I get up, and make my most So∣lemn Addresses to the Divine Majesty; remembrin•• Randolph's Words.

First Worship God; He that forgets to Pray, Bids not himself Good Morrow, nor Good Day.

In these sorts of Duties it has been my con••••ant Practice to be rather short and fervent, than long and indifferent. And as we ought to make use of every Just and Proper Motive to excite us to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Duty, I will humbly say, I have been the, mo•••• constant in my practic•• of this Morning-Duty, as principally out of a sense of my bounden Duty to∣wards God, so also from a consideration of the Ex∣ample of a Person of Honour (I mean the late Lord Delamere) who has left it upon Record to his Chil∣dren, That whenever he hapned, which was very sel∣dom, to omit his Duty in this Kind, tho upon never so urgent an occasion, he always found some cross Inter∣ruptions and disappointments in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 business of that day.

Being now, Madam, to Sally out into the Ci∣ty, under a n••cessity of making my self more par∣ticularly known, in respect to the affairs I went about, I will presume to suppose you might be in∣quisitive to understand what sort of Fig••re 〈◊〉〈◊〉 pro∣per for me to make. As to my Cloaths, I confess I was never over-curious, affecting always to appear more plain and cleanly, than gay and fini••al. The first Suit of Apparel that ever mortal man wore, came neither from the Mercer's Shop, nor the Mer∣chant's Warehouse; and yet Adam's Bill would have been sooner taken, than a Knight's Bond now. The Silk••Worms had something else to do in those days, than to set up Looms, to become Free of the Weavers. Our old Grandsire's Breeches were not worth near the Value of K. Stephen's Hose, that cost but a poor Noble; Adams Holy-day Suit be∣ing made of no better Stuff than plain Fig-leaves sowed together, and Ev•••• best Gown of the same piece. However, it was both necessary and conve∣nient

I should rather appear above than below my Quality; and as such I adventured to visit my Au∣ction-Room.

In the various Emergencies of each day, I send up Ejaculatory Prayers to the God of all my Mercies, for his Direction, Blessing, and Conduct, as the matter does require, and as God has Commanded, who has bid me in all my Ways acknowledge him, and has gra∣••iously promis'd to direct my Paths.

In the Summer-time, I rose early in the Morning, and walk'd abroad into the Fields, finding those oc∣casional Meditations (that such a walk presented me with Subjects for) proper to raise my Devotion to a greater Fervour; the Beauty of the Creation, lead∣ing me by insensible steps to the Adoration of the Great Creator; the Source and Fountain of all Ex∣cellencies. My walking along the Strand (a Mile from Dublin) gave me a pleasant prospect of the Sea, whose rowling Waves put me in mind of the Power of Omnipotence, who commands both the Winds and the Sea, saying, hitherto shalt thou come, but no further.

Leaving the Strand, I walk'd up a Hill into the Fields, by the side of Ballibaugh-lane (which I thought one of the best Prospects about Dublin) ha∣ving Heaven, Earth, and Sea, in view at the same Moment, it represented to my thoughts the exceed∣ing swiftness of spiritual Bodies, which (though far from Infinite, yet) have a motion quicker than the Eye, and swifter than our Thoughts. Thus by the things I have seen, I have been led into the Contem∣plation of unseen things.

After about an hours Meditations in this Nature, my usual way was to return to my Chamber, unless a previous Appointment to meet any one about Busi∣ness, hinder'd me. For though I had given the Con∣duct of my Auctions to Mr. Wilde (who faithfully discharg'd the Trust I repos'd in him) yet was I not so freed from Business my self, as not to have Ap∣plications made to me, both by the Binders, and other Persons.

After some time being in my Chamber, and having taken some Refreshment, I went to Dick's in Skinner-Row; where, after calling for a Dish of Coffee, my Questions were, Where's Darby? (he's Dick's Servant, but as honest a Lad as lives in Dublin•• Is there a Pack∣et come from England? And that which prompted me to that Enquiry, was, That I then had hopes of hear∣ing from my Wife; distance and absence having so endear'd her to me, that I was never well but when I was writing to her, or hearing from her. But if a Packet came, and there was no Letter for me, it struck me into such a Melancholly (for fear Valeria was ill) that I could hardly reconcile my self to a good Humor all that day.

Madam, perhaps this will make you ask how long▪ I have been absent from her? Why Madam, not a∣bove a Month, but am fallen already to telling the Minutes, and can scarce live at this cruel distance.

Methinks Madam, I cou'd pass through an Army of Beauties untoucht for one Glimpse of the Dear Valeria (for so I design to call her) 'Tis she I Love (for why should n't I) above Beauty, Wealth, and those Gaudy Trifles that dazzle the Eyes of others:

Neither can S—nor the worst of her Ene∣mies, lessen my Opinion of her. Might I talk of her Piety (for she's too modest to hear it menti∣on'd) I'd affirm she's so great a Scripturist that her Memory is a sort of Concordance, and the only one I have occasion for: And for the rest of her Life, 'tis nothing else but Devotion

—And, which yet inhances her Value, she puts me not off with a common Friendship. 'Tis true, an indifferent Love wou'd ha'e been good enough for the Man that wou'd Court her with the blaze of Gold; to the Fop that has nothing but Honour or Beauty (that very Iest when found in a Man) to plead for him; I loved her for better Reasons, and therefore ask for a nearer Intimacy, a more lasting Happiness;

Sence is enough, where Sences only Wooe; But Reasoning Lovers must have Reason too: No wonder if the Body quickly cloy, But Minds are infinit••, and like themselves enjoy.

A Woman of Sence (and such I find Val••ria) is a noble Prize, had she nothing but the Treasure of her Mind. All the World is pictur'd in a Soul▪ I am sure 'tis so, and that she acts new Charms in every thing. Then Madam, if you ever Marry, (and wou'd be happy in Wedlock) Marry for pure Love, for Valeria and I shall then be upon the square with ye, for we can love more in one day, than others do in all their Lives.

She that marries a Husband on this Foundation, will be still finding new Charms either in his Words or Looks; for my own share, I do assert, whilst dignified sparks seek Diversion from their Misses, and devote their Lives to the idle pur∣suit of a Hound or a Hawk, I thank God my Fancy is not so rambling, but I can confine it to One Dear Charmer, to whom (if she loves like me) I'll prove the most kind and tender thing in the World. In a word, I bend all the Faculties and Powers of my Bo∣dy and Mind, to please and serve her; all I have, or can command, shall lye at her Feet; neither do I love at so cold a rate, as to desire any of the Goods of Fortune, but for her sake; and this loving Hu∣mor (as Iris found in the like case) will not only last for a day, or a year, but to the end of her Life; then what shall I do for a sight of Valeria? but it can't be had, so that I am now constrain'd to have recourse to Philosophy, though it can supply me with no other Remedies but Patience; and the thoughts of this made me still duller than I was before; but as dull as it made me, before I left the Coffee-house for (tho' Love has led me out of the way▪) I don't forget I am still at Dicks. I look'd upon the Bill I publish'd for that Morning; then read what pub∣lick Papers came from England in the last Packet; and from thence, my Stomack (the most infallible sort of Clock) having chim'd all in, I went to Din∣ner; which was usually at a Cooks shop, a Widows in Crane-lane, whom I always found very ready to please me, and reasonable in her Demands; a thing which few of the Dublin Cooks are guilty of; for though both Flesh and Fish are sold cheap in their Markets, yet a Man may dine cheaper at a Cook••

in London, I perceive in these Ordinaries, if a Man makes a Noise, laughs in fashion, and has a grim Face•• to promise Quarreling, he shall be much ob∣serv'd; but though this was none of my Talent, yet when I was set down to Dinner, I look'd as big, and eat as confidently as any of 'em all. When we had fill'd our Bellies, we all began to talk; and made as great a noise as Dover Court, for every Man was willing to say something, tho' 'twas nothing to the purpose, rather than be thought to have nothing to say. I had but very bad sawce to my Dinner this day; but that Madam, mistake me not, did not arise from the fault of the Cook where I was, but the Company; there being in a manner nothing that was serious among 'em; ones Talk was so lewd, as if he had liv'd in a Brothel-house; another was Pro∣phaneness all over, nothing could be heard from him, but Railleries (if I may call them so) against seri∣ous Godliness; one while in Jest, then again in Ear∣nest; and sometimes, to shew his Wit (as I may well suppose) with an intermixture of both. Others there were, who seemingly little believed either Hea∣ven or Hell, to reward or punish; or a Supreme and Righteous God and Judge of all; yet made no bones of calling the Dreadful and O••••ipotent Being for a Witness to every ••rivolous, and I may say, many a false thing; for he that makes no Conscience of Swearing, will, in my Opinion, make less of Lying; and it may well (if yet it be not) be made a Pro∣verb, A Common Swe••••••r a Common Ly••r. Of all the Vices that are but too too rise among the Chil∣dren of Men, this of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Swearing is certainly the most unaccou••••••ble one of any; something may be said for Lying, as that it's profitable; for Drink∣ing, that it is for the good Company; of W••oreing, that it is natural for Kind 〈◊〉〈◊〉 propagate its Kind, &c. But for Swearing, what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 any Man say? even no∣thing as all. Upon a ••ild 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with one of the Sparks about the usefulness 〈…〉〈…〉 was, that it adorn'd his 〈…〉〈…〉 a pass is the World 〈…〉〈…〉 things terminate? But 〈…〉〈…〉 (which

consisted chiefly in Noise and Nonsence) was quick∣ly at an end. For Dinner being ended, away went every one, according as his Business or his Humour led him: Some to the College, some to the Play-house, others to Court, a few to their Shops, and Dunton to his Auction: When I came there, my first Word usual∣ly was, Where's Wild? What Sale last Night? Call Price. Sir, here's your Account ready cast up; Thirty Pounds receiv'd, and here's the discharge on't. Call Nelson, call Robinson, call James, call Bacon. Are the Bills Printed? And were they dispers'd at the Coffee houses, College, and Tho••sel? Thus, Madam, you see I was a Man of Business; and that my Pro∣vince was, to have a general Inspection over all my Servants; and to stir them up to their Duty with the utmost Application.

When I had spent about an hours time at my Au∣ction, and had seen every one in their proper Post, I▪ either went to visit a Friend, with whom sometimes I walk'd into the Fields; or else went home to my lodging, and spent my time in my Chamber, either in Reading Montaigns Essays (for 'tis a Book I va∣lue at a great rate) or else in Writing to my Friends in England. And after the shadows of the Evening have put a period to the Day, I us'd to make a trip to my Auction, and crowd my self among the Gentle∣men that went thither to buy Pennyworths; and so cou'd, unobserv'd, observe how things went. And here, to do 'em Justice, I observ'd that several Gentle∣men bid like themselves, and as those that under∣stood the Worth and Value of the Books they bid for. And others as much betray'd their Ignorance, and took no other Measures for their bidding, but from the bulk of the Book, if 'twas large (whatever the worth on't was) they bid accordingly. And yet, to do these Right, if they had but paid for what they had so bought, I have no reason to com∣plain of 'em. Others there were, that in their bid∣ding took their Measures from what they heard ano∣ther bid before 'em; and two of these happening to meet together, wou'd strive so to out-bid each other, that they wou'd sometimes raise but an indifferent

Book to a good Price: And these (provided still they paid for 'em) were very honest Chapmen, and help'd out those that went too often at an under Rate. But whatsoever any bid, 'twas their own Act and Deed; for I must do my self that Justice, to assert that I had none of those unworthy ways that have been used in some other Auctions. I had not one Setter (to advance the Price, and draw on unwary Bidders) in any of my five Sales. For how∣soever I may have been aspersed in that particular, by Patrick Campbel, I have that Satisfaction in my self of my Sincerity and Innocence herein, as is beyond the Testimony of a thousand Witnesses.

Having diverted my self a while, with seeing of the various Humors of the Bidders in my Auction, I went away as unperceiv'd as I came thither, and thence retir'd into my Chamber; where, having spent some time in Meditation, I make it my endea∣vour to recollect the Actions of the Day, and mak•• a scrutiny into my Heart, to see what pec••ant Hu∣mors have exerted themselves there; (being jealous of my self, that I have not been so much upon my Watch as I ought to have been) and having-thus examined how things stand, I strive by an humble Confession of what I find my self guilty of, and a hearty sorrow for it, to reconcile my self to my offended Maker, and so strike a Tally in the Exchequer of Heaven (as an ingenious Author expresses it) for my quietus est, before I close my Eyes, that I may leave no Burthen on my Conscience. And after my Addresses to Heaven, by way of Confession, &c. my Bed is the next place, where I know no more of my self till seven next Morn∣ing, (so strange is the Nature of sound Sleep) than if I had never been; at which hour I usually digest the future business of the day: Yet, Madam, as sound as I sleep, I dream often. You know, Madam, Thought must be active, but I take little heed in the Morning, what the Visions of the Night have been (unless that Night when I dream of D—ne'•• appearing to me) and much less care to remember them; but my Experience teaches me, that the over∣night Thoughts come fresh upon me the next day;

and how to digest and settle them, was the Morn∣ing business; the main whereof, next after my Mornings Devotion, was to answer those Letters I had receiv'd from England. My Custom always is, to begin with that of my Wife's, and then to pro∣ceed to D—ne's, and then to my other Relations and 〈◊〉〈◊〉, as near as I can, in due order o•• Place and Affection. I seal them in the same manner, only I retain that of my Wife's to be the first perused, and last closed.

Thus, Madam, I have given you a brief, but true Account of my general Method of Living: And by such Steps as these (through the help of Divine Grace) I strive to climb to Heaven; and sometimes find my Soul upon the Wing thither, before I am aware. There is, methinks, no Object in the World that's more delightful, than when in a Star-light-night, I survey the spangled Canopy of Heaven; for if my Mind happen to be o'ercast with Melancholy, when I look up and view the glittering Firmament, and hope in a short time to soar above those starry Regions, methinks I breath already the Air of a New World; and all those black Vapors that o'erwhelm'd my Soul, are fled in an instant: I then scorn this Transitory World, and all its fading Pleasures, con∣sidering the Vanity of the one, and the Emptiness of the other.

T••us still my Soul moves upwards, as all the hea∣venly Bodies do: But yet, as those Bodies are often snatcht away to the West, by the rapid motion of the Primum Mobile; so by those Epidemical Infirmities incident to human Nature, I am often turn'd a clean contrary course; though my Soul still persists in her proper Motion. And I have oft occasion to be angry with my self, when I consider, That whereas my bountiful Creator intended my Body (tho'a lump of Clay) shou'd be a Temple of his Holy Spirit, my corrupt Affections shou••d turn it so often to a Bedlam, and my Excesses to an Hospital. But as my Sin trou∣bles me, so my trouble for Sin comforts me: And I believe there is less danger in committing the Sin I delight in, than in delighting in the Sin I have

committed. In a word, Madam, I have experienc'd that the way to God is by my self; and the way to my self is by my own Corruptions: If I baulk this way, I err; If I travel by the Creatures, I wander: For the Motion of the Heavens will give my Soul no Rest, nor will the Vertue of Herbs increase mine; the height of all Philosophy, both Natu•••••••• and Mo∣ral, being to know my self; and the end of this Know∣ledge, is to know God, the knowledge of whom, is the Perfection of Love; God being our chiefest good, and the Enjoyment of him our highest Hap∣piness.

And now, Madam, having given you a Specimen of my way of Living in Dublin, both on the Sabbath; and on the Week days. I come in the next place to give you a Iournal of my Conversation, with re∣spect to the Occurrences I met with here; by which you may see what little occasion I gave for the Dubli•• Scuffle; or to the false Dorinda to tempt me to her lewd Embraces.

It was in April when I came to Dublin, and near Eleven a Clock at Night when I landed; so that it was with some difficulty that I got a Lodging for that Night; for which I own my self beholding to Mrs. Lisle (the Widow) at the Dukes-head Tavern in Castle-street, the first Place I drank at in Ireland. I have always the Vnhappiness of being sick at Sea, which, though it be very irksome to bear, yet I find this good in't, that it endears the sence of God's Good∣ness to me when I come to Land, and makes me the more thankful for my Preservation. Which having perform'd as well as the Fatigue I had been under would permit, I betook my self to my Chamber, and slept that Night without Rocking; though in the Morn∣ing both my Bed and Chamber seem'd to me to have the same motion that my fluctuating Cabin had, the day before. Being got up the next Morning, I again renew'd my Thanks to God, for my Preservation at Sea, and safe arrival at Dublin. And now being drest as it were in Print, (for my busi∣ness now was to see and be seen) I marched very me∣thodically out of my Lodgings with two (I can't say a

pair of) Gloves in one hand, and a Cane in t'other; and 'tis not long since I had done sowing my wild Oats; and now I am earnestly hunting after Gaup-seed. You wou'd smile, Madam, if you had the Picture of your quondam friend at the black Raven, like an over-grown Oaf newly come to Town, sta∣ring and gazing at all the Signs, and every thing else in the Str••ets; pacing out their length, and en∣quiring ever and anon, What call ye this Street? Who dwells in you great House? Whose fine Coach is that? For thus I rambled through every Street, Alley, and corner of this spacious Town, as you'll find at large in my Summer Travels, where 200 Persons will see their Pictures, that at present little expect it; but I leave 'em here, to tell ye the first visit I made in Dublin, was to Nat. Gun. a Bookseller in ••ssex-street, to whom I was directed by my Friend, Mr. Richard Wild, (whom I had left behind me in London)

This Son of a Gun gave me a hearty Welcome; and, to do him Justice, he's as honest a Man as the World affords; and is so esteemed by all that know him. He is a firm adherer to the established Government, and a declared Enemy to Popery and Slavery: So far from dissembling, that he knows not how to go about it; and will speak his Mind, how much soever it may be to his Prejudice. He understands Stenography as well as Bookbinding; and he himself is a sort of a Short-hand Character; for he is a little Fellow, but one that contains a great deal. And as he is a most incomparable Writer of Short-hand, so he speaks it as well as writes it: and to compleat his Character, He is a constant Shop-keeper, without earnest Business calls him to the Drum∣condrah. This Gun was a constant and generous bidder at my Auctions, where he bought a great quantity of Books, which he as honestly paid for

At Mr. Gun's Shop, I met with Mr. 〈◊〉〈◊〉, another Bookseller, but his principal Business is Binding; whom I afterwards employed considerably:

He is a very honest Man, but has met with Misfortunes in the World, by thinking some others as honest

as himself, who did not prove so.

I ask'd Mr. Bently, whether there was not some Eminence in the City, from whence I might survey it? He told me there was; and that from the top of the Tholsel, the whole City might be seen; so we went to the Tholsel, where we ascended about half a score Stairs from the Street, which brought us into a spa∣cious Ro••m, supported by great Pillars, and flagg'd (as they term it here) with free Stone, with open Banisters on each side towards the Street; its figure is rather an oblong than a square: This is the Place they call the Change, where the Merchants meet every day, as on the Royal Exchange in London. In a corner, at the South-East part, is a Court of Iu∣dicature, where they keep their publick Sessions for the City. Having view'd the lower part, we went up a large pair of Stairs into a publick Room, which had a large Balconey looking into Skinner Row; and from this Balcony I spoke with my Friend Mr. Geo. Larkin, who was then at Mr. Ray's Printing-house over-against it. He no sooner saw me, but came over to congra∣tulate my safe arrival, expressing himself very joy∣ful to see me; and I was as glad as he, we having a long time had a kindness for each other, and con∣vers'd by Letter, even when I was in America. Ha∣ving said so much of him, you'll not wonder, Madam, if I send ye an Epitomy of his Character, (intending to do it more largely in my Summer Ramble)

He is of a midling Stature, somewhat gross, of a San∣guine Complexion, and a hail Constitution both of Body and Mind; and (which I admire where ever I find it) he is of an even Temper, not elated when Fortune Smiles, nor cast down with her Frowns; and though his Stars have not been very propitious to him, with respect to his outward Circumstances, (he having had great Losses) yet he has born all with such a presence of Mind, as shew'd his Losses to be the effect of his Misfortunes, and not his Faults. His Conversation is extreamly diverting, and what he says is always to the pur∣pose: He is a particular Votary of the Muses; and I have seen some of his Poems that can't be equall'd:

But there is one thing more peculiar to him, which is, That whatever he does, is upon the Account Civil.

I went up with my Friends (Madam) to the top of the Th••lsel, and there had a View of the whole City; but a Storm that then arose, took from us much of the Pleasure of the Prospect: But of that, and the spacious Chambers over the Change, where the* 1.1 Lord Mayor and Aldermen meet, and other Curiosities which I saw there, as also o•• the Government of the City, (by the Lord Mayor, Alder∣men, and Assemblies) I shall give a more particular Account in my Summer Ramble. But this I will say here, (Madam) That of all the Cities in the Kings Dominions, Dublin (next to London) does justly claim the Precedence.

'Twas at the Tholsel I met Mr. Dell, a Person whose Understanding and generous Temper, set him above the common Rate of Men, and shew him to be every way a Gentleman; I could not but love him for these Qualifications, but much more as he was an old Acquaintance of my Honoured Mother-in-law; and Madam, you can't blame me for this, as she treats me with that Tenderness, that I think her my own Mother Reviv'd, and I find shall love her as much. Mr. Dell shew'd me a most particular Re∣spect at our first Meeting, and continued his Favours to the last Minute I staid in Ireland, being one of those that were so obliging as to see me a Ship∣board.

From the Tholsel, Mr. Dell, Mr. Bently, and I, were going to the Tavern, but Mr. Larkin, by the way, wou'd have me go into Dick's Coffee-house, where I had been advis'd by Mr. Wild, to keep my Auctions: I readily agreed to his Motion, and went up, saw it, and liked it, as proper for my Purpose; Dick shew∣ing me all the Civility I could desire: And I must say this of Dick, (notwithstanding our after Quar¦rel)

That he is a Witty and Ingenious Man, makes the best Coffee in Dublin; and is very Civil and Ob∣liging

to all his Customers; of an open and gene∣rous Nature; has a peculiar Knack at Bantering, and will make Rhymes to any thing: He's of a chear∣ful facetious Temper, and generally speaking fair in his Dealing: And had not Patrick assaulted him with the Temptation of a double Price, he and I shou'd never have quarrel'd; and yet for all that, I must do him the Justice to say, he carry'd it ci∣villy to me to the very last; and was so kind as to come (with my Friend Mr. Dell) to give me a Farewell when I left Ireland; thus much for Dick:

As for his Wife, I shall say this,

She's an Industri∣ous Woman, hand••om enough, one that knows her Duty to her Husband, and how to respect her Customers; and in a word, is what a Wife ought to be;

and I must own, though her Husband and I scuffled, she treated me always with much 〈◊〉〈◊〉.

From Dicks we went to the Tavern, where having ••rank a Bottle or two (and related the Fatigues of my Dublin Voyage) we parted, and went each to our several Lodgings. In my way home I was attackt by an impudent 〈◊〉〈◊〉, who desired me to bestow a Glass of Wine upon her; I made her no other Answer, than that the House of Correction stood not far off; at which she scower'd away with all the Heels she could make, seeming as much scar'd, as if she had been in the most eminent danger of losing her Chastity; when perhaps she could scarce re∣member the time when she had it. I hope, Madam, you do not esteem any thing I have said here, to be designed for the magnifying of my own Vertues; it's practicable enough for a man to make his Reputati∣on clear and not sin; and assure your self, I am not unsensible that self-Praise is a most odious thing in any, and I shall ever account it much more so in my self: However it be, Madam, all my Mistakes are entirely submitted to you, who are the best Judge of 'em.

The next day I removed to more convenient Quarters, and deliver'd some Letters which I had brought from London. This day Mr. Dell gave me a

meeting at Dicks; from whence we went to the Castle, the Place of Residence for the Chief Gover∣nors; by Mr. Dell's Interest I had here a view of the Lord Galway's Bed-Chamber, and other 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Apartments, but I wave 'em here, designing to speak of 'em in my Summer Ramble; however, I'll here attempt his Lordships Character, and hope my honest Intention herein will something attone for my great Defects; and the rather still, as his Lordships Merits are above a Dryden's or a Cowley's Pen. I own 'tis a bold Undertaking, to offer at the Character of one of the greatest Men which our Age has produc'd, especially for one who has not the Honour of being personally known to him; however, though I can't perform this Great Task as it ought to be, yet I'll endeavour at something so like him, that any one at first glance may say 'twas meant for the Earl of Galway, one of the present Lords Justices for the Kingdom of Ireland. Then to proceed (tho' with a trembling Hand) to his Lordships Character.

The first thing then which is remarkable in him, is▪

He is a Person of strict Morals, and extraordi∣nary Piety. His Lordship is advanc'd to the Ho∣nours he now enjoys, by his great Humility and Personal Merits. The Noble Blood that has fill'd his Veins, has not swell'd his Heart: He is as humble as he is great; he seems set by Heaven on such a conspicuous Place, (as is that of being Lord Ju∣stice of Ireland) on purpose to guide the People into the Paths of Love and Obedience to their God and King. In a word, he uses such an oblig∣ing meen to all, as if he thought the only thing va∣luable in Greatness, is the power it gives to oblige.

I wou'd go on with his Lordship's Character, but (as I said before) I find my self unable for this Task; so that (Madam) I shall next proceed (for his Lordship's Character leads me to it) to give some short Account of the present State of the Kingdom, according to my best Information, though you may wonder that Dunton should trouble his Head with Politicks; but since such is the Cu∣stom of Travellers▪ Why may not I thrust my self into the Herd?

The Present Governors are, Their Excellencies the Lord Marquess of Winchester, the Earl of Galway, and the Lord Villers, now Earl of Jersey; (his Lord∣ship has never been here with this Character, though he be n••med in the Commission;) and the present Government is so well administer'd by those two Noble Lords, that I have not heard one man repine at them since I came to Dublin. They have Officers belonging to the Houshold, such as Steward and Comptrouler; who on Sta••e-days carry White Rods as the Ensigns of their Office: When they go to Church, the Streets, from the Castle-gate, to the Church-door, as also the great Isle of the Church, to the foot of the Stairs by which they ascend to the Place where they sit, are lined with Soldiers; they are preceeded by the Pursivants of the Council-Chamber, two Maces, (and on State-days) by the King, and Pursivant at Arms, their Chaplains, and Gentlemen of the Houshold, with Pages and Foot∣men bare-headed: When they alight from their Coach, (in which commonly the Lord Chancellor, and one of the Prime Nobility sit with 'em) the Sword of State is deliver'd to some Lord to carry before 'em; and in the like manner they return back to the Castle, where the several Courses at dinner are usher'd in by Kettle-drums and Trumpets. I forgot to tell you (Madam) that in these Cavalcades the Coach in which they ride is attended by a small Squadron of Horse; after which follow a long Train of Coach∣es that belong to the several Lords and Gentlemen who attend 'em.

Having given ye this short Account of the Chief Governors, I shall next proceed to mention some∣thing of the Estate of the Church, which in all its Canons are not the same with that of England; not that they differ from it in any points of Reli∣gion, but only in some Circumstances of Govern∣ment; which by a Convocation which has been some∣times held here, may be alter'd as the present Exi∣gencies require: It consists of two Houses, viz. The Upper in which the Bishops, and the lower where the Inferior Clergy sit; but they have not thought

it needful to call one since his present Majesty's Ac∣cession to the Crown. The most Reverend the Arch-bishops are four, viz. Dr. Michael Boyl, Lord Arch-bishop of Armagh, and Primate of all Ireland. Dr. Narcissus Marsh, Lord Arch-bishop of Dublin, Primate of Ireland. Dr. William Palliser, Lord Arch-bishop of Cashell; and Dr. Iohn Vesey, Lord Arch-bishop of Tuam. And the Suffragants are eighteen in Number, of this Number Three are of his Majesty's Privy-Council, viz. The Bishops of Meath, Kildare, and Clogher, as also the two Primates. To give you a short Character of them, take this, what has been told me by some Judicious Persons, of as well Dis∣senters as others, That they are Men of such Learn∣ing, Moderation, and Piety, that this ••hurch had ne∣ver a better Class of Bishops to govern it.

The Dissenters in Ireland are a very considerable People, as well for their Number as Wealth; and all unanimous in an hearty Zeal for our present happy Government. (And indeed, since my coming hither, I have not heard of any one Iacobite in the whole Kingdom.) They have several Meeting-houses, large and conveniently order'd within; and these are sup∣ply'd with Sober and Pious Teachers; among whom I think the Reverend Mr. Boyse may justly be named as the Chief; one, wh•• by continual and hard Study every Day, fits himself with new Acquisitions towards the happy discharging of his Pastoral Care; which he expresses with so much Meekness, and force of Perswa∣sion, as make him at once mightily belov'd and follow'd. And one thing this Kingdom is extreamly happy in, That both Perswasions do so well agree, towards promoting the common good, as more cannot well be desir'd; a great Advancer of which Union, is Mr. Weld, a Person of Sobriety, Learning, and solid Iudgment, and much admir'd and follow'd for his Preaching.

The Quakers are here in great Numbers also, as one might easily perceive that would have consider'd the mighty Throngs of them which crowded about their Great speaker and Champion, William Pen, when he came hither to hold forth. I cannot hear of any

Learned Men among them, though some of them are very Wealthy, and but few of them poor; they can make use of the Carnal Sword, as well as those who pretend more to it; as you will believe by this Story of one among them, whose Name I forget; who, in the late War, when the Rapparees came towards Edenderry, near the Bogg of Allen, in the Kings County, he, among other of the Militia, went forth to engage them, and put them all to the run, except those who were kill'd in the Action; among them lay one whom the Quaker thought he had kill'd, and rifled his Pockets; but some Months after, when a great number of them burnt Colonel Purefoy's House, about three Miles from Edenderry, these brisk Sparks took, the Alarm, and making as considerable a body as they could, march'd to Pure∣foys-place, where they found many of the Irish, who had made themselves drunk with the Colonels strong Beer, fast asleep in the Ditches; the Quaker, who never was backward in such Attempts, finds the same Fellow whom he thought he had formerly kill'd, half tipsie, and in his Arms; he call'd him by his Name, saying, Verily I thought I had of late slain thee? but now find my Mistake; wherefore I purpose to make sure work, and hinder thee from Rising any more; and so immediately knockt him down with a Poll-Ax which he used always instead of a Sword; and then cut off his Head. Poor Teig never offer'd at any Resistance, nor endeavour'd to save himself by flight, but stood to die like a Fool.

Our Red Letter'd Gentlemen were never under such Circumstances here, as now; for all their Bishops and Regular Clergy are banish'd by Act of Parlia∣ment, which makes it Death to find any of them return'd again. So that now they are wholly de∣pending on the Seculars, and every Parish is allow'd his Priest; but when he dies, there being none to Ordain a new one, it must remain without; and this will be the State of the whole Kingdom in a little time, when the present set of Priests shall be ex∣tinct. They have also another Law, That no Pa∣pist

shall keep a School, nor any one Native of a Foreign Education be admitted to dwell in the King∣dom; so that by these Acts I think it will appear plain enough, that the Romish Religion is on its last Legs in Ireland; and the present Romanists who survive their Priests, must conform to the Protestant Religion, or live and die without the Exercise of their own. I do not pretend to make my Judgment upon these Methods; but I think the next Age will have few People inclinable to any more Rebellions against England; and some of the Papist Lords have put their Children to be Educated in the Protestant Faith; and several Gentlemen have lately abjur'd the Romish.

These Ghostly Fathers were to render themselves on the first day of May for Transportation at Dublin, Cork, &c. where their Names were enter'd with the Magistrate of the Town; ye may guess at the Lamentations which were made at parting with such precious Iewels; and Masses were said, and Money begg'd for them, besides what the People volunta∣rily gave without asking. One old Fryar, called Fa∣ther Kereen, who had been a famous Exorcist, and excellent good at helping ••attle that were over∣look'd or bewitch'd, (for some of the vulgar are so superstitious to believe this) made sale of good store of Holy Water, which had helpt to cast out De∣vils; and of several other consecrated Trinckams, by which it was said he acquir'd such a Summ of Mo∣ney, as might suffice for his support all his days; and such were the Tricks play'd by many of them on their going into Exile, as leaving Holy Tokens, and taking Catalogues of their Acquaintances Names, to pray for them all the Days of their Life. Now these Kindnesses deserv'd some returns, which they never fail'd of; though whether they are as good as their words in remembring them, I leave to their own Breasts. Before I leave this account of the State of Religion in Ireland, I shall acquaint you with the manner of exorcising their Demoniacks (though for my part I think the Devil is in the presumptuous Priest, rather than the melancholy Person) and

you may judge how sit such Persons are for honest Society.

The Exorcist, before he goes to work, ought by way of a preparative, to confess his Sins, and re∣ceive the Eucharist; then he begins the Operation with some short Prayers, and tyes the ends of the violet coloured Stole that he wears, about the De∣moniacks Neck; who, if outragious, must be tyed Hand and Foot; then crossing him, and the by∣standers, they go to Prayer, and read the 53 Psalm, and after a Prayer or two more, he thus speaks to the Devil: I command thee thou unclean Spirit, whoever thou art, and all thy Companions, that do possess this Servant of God, That by the Mystery of the Incarna∣tion, Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension of our Lord I. C. by the sending the Holy Ghost, and the coming of our Lord to Iudgment, thou tell me thy Name, and the day and hour of thy Exit, with some sign; and that thou obey me the unworth•• Minister of God in all things; and that thou offend not this Creature of God, or any of the By-standers in their Persons or Goods. Then he crosses himself, and the Demoniack on the Fore-head, Mouth, and Breast, and reads some Gospel, as that of the First of St. Iohn, the 16 th of Mark, or the 10 th of Luke; then falling to Prayer, he begs to be enabled to cast forth this cruel Devil; then lapping the Stole about the possessed Parties Neck, and forti∣fying him with the Sign of the Gross, he lays his Right Hand on the Patients Head, and cries out, Behold the Cross of the Lord! (which he shews him) Fly from it ye adverse Parties: The Lyon of the Tribe of Iudah, the Root of David hath overcome: Then to Prayer again he goes, and begins a new Exorcism, saying, I exorcise thee, most foul Spi∣rit, every Incursion of the Adversary, every Phan∣tasm, and every Legion, in the Name of our Lord J. C. ✚ to fly from, and be eradicated ✚ out of this Image of God: He commands thee, who bid thee be plunged from the highest Heavens, into the lower parts of the Earth: He whom the Sea, Winds and Tempests obey, commands thee. Then

when this does not serve turn, he falls to scold the Devil after this manner, Hear therefore, and fear, thou Satan, Enemy of the Faith, and all Mankind; thou Introducer of Death, and Destroyer of Life, Decliner of Justice, Root of all Evils, Fomenter of Vices, Seducer of Men, Betrayer of Nations, Promoter of Envy, Source of Avarice, Cause of Discord, and Exciter of Sorrow, Why dost thou stay? Why dost thou resist, when thou knowest the Lord Christ can destroy all thy Power? Fear him who was sacrificed in Isaac, sold in Ioseph, ••••ain in the Lamb, crucified in Man, and at last tri∣umphed over Hell. Then he makes the following Cross in the Forehead of the Possessed; Be gone you in the Name of the Father, ✚ and of the Son, ✚ and of the Holy Ghost, ✚ Give way to the Holy Spi∣rit by this •• sign of the Cross of our Lord J. C. Then they go to Prayers; and after them another Exorcism is used like the former, wherein he calls the Devil many hard Names, and tells him of all the Rogueries he has ever committed, and bids him be gone for shame, since all his Tricks are discovered.

Madam, I wou'd e••large in giving a more particu∣lar account of the present Condition of the Church and State in this Kingdom of Ireland, (for as I was a little curious in this matter, so I have met with such In∣genious Company since I came here, as have been able to satisfie my Curiosity in these Matters;) but my Observations on the State of Ireland being more properly a part of my Summer Ramble, than what re∣lates to my Conversation in Dublin, I shall drop it here, and proceed to what is more properly Conver∣sation; my Design in this Letter (as I said at first) being rather to tell ye how I liv'd in Ireland, than to tell ye what I saw or observ'd there. And in the Ac∣count of my Conversation, with respect to the Oc∣currences I met with there (for that's the Subject I am still upon) I am next to tell ye, that having seen the Castle, and other Rarities, I was the next Sunday for going to Church (the Place where the Lords Iustices usually go) and accordingly thither

I went in Company with Mr. Larkin. After we had seen the State in which the Government rides to Church (which indeed is very splendid, as I hinted before) we crowded into the Church, where I endeavoured to compose my self in the most serious manner I could, to attend the Service of God performed there. I do not pretend to retain whole Sermons by heart, but can have a satisfied Conscience in keeping only in my Memory, a remarkable passage or two that suits best to the then Edification of my Soul; much less then, Madam, shall I offer to describe this place of Divine Worship, or Descant upon the Auditory: but as 'tis most natural for Mankind, upon the pre∣senting of fresh Objects, to view them at least in a transient manner; I found it so with my self here, notwithstanding the Injunctions of God, and my own Conscience, to keep close to my Devotion; but pardon me Madam, if I am necessitated to de∣clare, I did not behold one tolerable Face among all those that are distinguish'd by the Name of the Fair Sex: So that here I can truly say, They were no Temptation to me; and that I had no occasion to make a Covenant with my ••yes: But for my self, I could have been heartily content they had had a certain place of Worship from the Men, assigned them in the Assembly, as the Eastern Churches have, but for what reason I know not. But this Liberty (Madam) that I took to gaze, and make Reflecti∣ons, was only while they were singing an Anthem, with Vocal and Instrumental Musick, there being two pair of Organs in Christ-Church; of which one is a very noble one. But when the Minister ascended the Pulpit, I heard him with great Attention and De∣light: He was a Dignitary of the Church, but his Name has slipt my Memory. Retiring home from hence with what convenient speed the Infirmity of my Body would permit me, I din'd in my Lodging with my Landlord H—a Jolley Man in his natural Temper, but not very serious in matters of Religi∣on; I made my Repast as short as I could, (as is usual with me upon such days) and withdrew into my Chamber, where I spent the remainder of the

day in such Acts of Devotion and Meditation as were usual with me; but I had some more particu∣lar Impressions upon my Spirits concer••ing the Di∣vine Goodness towards me, in respect to the now state of my Health, That I h••d been enabled to go once again to the House of God: And I will own, to the Glory of the Divine Name, that some touches in the Sermon I had heard that day concerning Thankfulness for Mercies receiv'd, were very helpful to me in the course of this Evenings Devotion.

The next Week I went to see Patrick Campbel, to whom (by his Order) I had sent several of Mr. Turner's History. He treated me well enough the first time I saw him, giving me my Mornings Draught, and tell∣ing me I was welcome to Dublin: But I said nothing then of the Books I sent him, nor he to me; which I thought somewhat strange. The second time I went to him, which was the Week following; after the usual How-dee's were over, I expected he shou'd have took some notice to me of the Books; which he not doing, I took notice of 'em to him; and then it was I perceiv'd he had a Natural Aver∣sion to Honesty; for he began to shuffle at the very mention of 'em. However, resolving to be easie with him, I took my leave of him for that time. The third time I saw him, he shuffl'd about my Books at that rate, that a Stranger in his Shop (to whom I offer'd to refer my Cause) resented it: And from that time forward (only for demanding my own, and telling him how unfairly he dealt by me) he became my Enemy. This, Madam, being the Per∣son with whom I had the preceeding Scuffle; if by this you don't sufficiently see his Character, give me leave to give it you? which I will do impartially, and without any respect to the Controversie I had with him.

He is, of Stature, rather Tall than otherwise; his Hair reddish, his Speech very broad, like his Country; no Schollar, but of good Natural Parts; very covetous, and extreamly proud: He had a very mean beginning (for which no man ought to blame him, for he cou'd n't help it himself, and

consequently 'twas none of his fault) but his in∣tollerable Pride makes it necessary that he be often put in mind on't. I have heard some Persons say, that had dealings with him, That they had rather speak to the Lord Mayor about Business, than Pa∣trick Campbel; and that he wou'd not look for so much respect. He cares not to part with Money, and where he can s••uffle he will: He is of Vespasi∣an's Mind, and thinks no Gain is unsavoury. What good parts he has, he uses ill, employing 'em for the most part to circumvent his Neighbour. (Of which his taking my Room over my Head is an un∣deniable Instance.) He understands the Doctrin•• of Equivocation as well as a Jesuit; and their Ho∣nesties are much alike, only the Jesuits are the fairer Dealers. He pretends extreamly to Religi∣on, and has got many a Penny by the Bargain: He'll commonly say Grace over a Choppin of Ale, and at the same time be contriving▪ how to over∣reach you: Candor, and Fair Dealing, are things he often mentions (as a cover for the opposite Vices) but never cares to make use of 'em, unless some∣times to draw in a greater Booty.

This, Madam, is a part of his Character, which shou'd I draw out at length, it wou'd make a Pack too big for a Pedlar; but having thus accidentally stumbled upon his Original 'twill be Wisdom to leave him where he was first found. Which yet I am unwilling to do, till I have acquainted you, Madam, that I have enough by me, to confirm every tittle of this Character, without referring to any thing relating to my self; for I have the History of his ••ife sen•• me from Dublin since I came over, even from the time he sold Thread-laces in Glascow, by the Name of Patrick Vre, to the time that Patrick Campbel begged Pardon of the Company in Dublin, for his pretty Experiment of turning Hodder into ••o••ker, &c. And this attested by several Emi∣nent Persons in that City, among whom Mr. Thorn∣ton, the King's Stationer, is one. But having told him I'll be a generous Enemy, I intend this History

of his Life shall be kept secret, unless he shall (here∣after) provoke me to publish it.

From Patrick Campbel I rambled to the Ing••ni∣ous Mr. Ray's who is both Printer and Bookseller, and the best scituated of any Man in Dublin; and thence back to honest Ware's witty, Shaw's and grave Mr. Foster's; who, as they all deserve an honourabl•• Character (which for brevity sake, I here omit) so I shall give it 'em in my Summer Ramble.

Having left Mr. Ray, I rambled to Castle-street, where Vulcan with his wooden Leg startled me with the creeking of it, for I took it for the Crep••••us Ossi∣um which I have heard some of our Physitians speak of; however, I was honestly treated by him, and will do him justice in my Summer Ramble.

Some time after this, seeing the Squire of Alsatia in a Play-Bill, to be Acted, I had a great Mind to see it; for there being so many Alsatians in Dublin, I thought it could not chuse but be acted to the Life: And so having done my Business (for I al∣ways m••ke Recreation wait upon Business▪ I went to the Play-house, which Place you know, Madam, is free for all Comers, and ••ives Entertainment as well to the Broom man, as the greatest Peer: And therefore having got my Ticket, I made a shift to crowd into the Pit, where I made my Honors to Mad••m 〈◊〉〈◊〉 (who I was amaz'd to find at the Play-••ouse) and to two or three other Ladies that I hapned to know; my next Adventure there was, to give a Hem to the China Orange Wench; and to give her her own rate for her Oranges; for you know, Madam, 'tis below a Gentlemen (and as such I passd in the Crowd) to stand hagling like a Citizen's Wife. I found, Madam, the Dublin Play-house to be a place very contrary to its owners; for they on their out-sides make the best show: But this is very ordinary in its outward appearance, but looks much better on the inside, with its Stage, Pit, Boxes, two Galleries, Lettices, and Musick Loft; though I must confess, that even these, li••e other false Beaut••es, receive a Lustre from their Lamps

and Candles: It stands in a durty Street, called Smock-Alley; which I think is no unfit Name for a Place where such great Opportunities are given for making of lewd Bargains: Hither I came drest (tho' I say't) tollerably well; tho' not so much to be seen, as to see the Follies of the Age; for however the Theatre be applauded by a Modern Gentleman, for the Representation of those things which so mightily promote Vertue, Religion, and Monarchi∣cal Government; for my part, I thought Vice, which fundamentally destroys all those things, is here, as well as in other Theatres, so charmingly discover'd, as to make Men rather love than abhor it; like the Judge, who, on the Bench, discovering, the Arts of some Cow-stealers, to disguise their Beasts by alter∣ing the Figure of their Horns, taught a poor fellow the Trick, who putting it in Practice, was brought to the Gallows; However, to give the Devil his due, there are some Actors here, particularly Mr. Ash∣bury, Mr. Husbands, Mr. Wilks, Mr. Hescot, Mr. Norris, Mr. Buckly, Mr. Longmore, Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Schooling, no way inferior to those in London; nor are the Spectators, by what I saw, one degree less in Va∣nity and Foppery, than those in another Place.

For the Play, Madam, I need say nothing, 'tis so well known; 'twas pretty to see the Squire choused out of so fair an Estate with so little ready Rino: Yet the Diversion was not so great, but that the Crowd made me more uneasie; a thing I ever abominated, and for the most part made it my Bu∣siness to shun all my days; in a word, no Church I was in while at Dublin, cou'd I discern to be half so crowded as this Place. I cannot tell indeed how it would have been, had they play'd on Sunday, as they do in Popish Countries, and particularly at Rome; where a Stranger once observed, all the Peo∣ple suddenly ran out of the Play-house into the Church, as fast as they could, which made him at first think it was a most Religious Place; but when he came to hear the Fryar Preach, his Words, Acti∣ons, and other Gestures were so Comical, that his

Wonder ceased; for he thought all the Actors and Players in Christendom were a Fool to him.

After spending three or four hours in the Play-house, to see a few Men and Women make Fools of themselves, I returned home to my Chamber, and cou'd scarce be reconcil'd to my self, to think how foolishly I had wasted that time which might have been spent to better purpose.

Madam, I shou'd next acquaint you with a pro∣digious Storm which happened in Dublin about the latter end of Iuly; it might indeed be more proper∣ly call'd a Hurricane than a Storm: It strangely sur∣priz'd me, though its fury continued not above six hours; there was hardly a House in the City, where it had not left some visible Marks of its Rage (es∣pecially in Christ-Church-lane:) So that it was mo••e safe being in the Fields, than in the City at that time; the oldest Men alive cou'd never remember any thing so terrible as this Storm. But to give an account of the Mischief it did, wou'd be too great a Digression, I shall therefore reserve it for my Sum∣mer Ramble; as I shall also a Comical Entertainment made at Kells in the County of Meath, by one Captain Bryan O Brogan, Son to Philip O Brogan, Prince of Cavan.

Soon after this Great Storm, the Duke of Ormond landed at Dublin, and from thence went to his House at Kilkenny, where (in my Summer Ramble) I saw his Grace, and had a sight of the Castle, and other Rarities, by the Interest of Dr. Wood, whose great Civilities I acknowledge in the following Pa∣ges. About this time the Dublin Players, with all their Appurtinances, stroled down to Kilkenny; af∣ter which 'twas reported in Dublin, that one Wilks, one of the best Actors, had play'd his last part, being kill'd in a Duel; this Report was so far believ'd, that an Ingenious Person writ an Elegy* 1.2 upon him, which was Printed, and publickly Sold. This News of his Death was talk'd with such Assurance, that though Mr. Wilks soon after came to Dublin

and shew'd himself alive, they wou'd hardly believe him. The ground of this Report (as I was told) arose from this▪ That a Country-man seeing a Trage∣dy acted in Kilkenny, wherein Mr. Wilks acted the part of one that was to be kill'd, thought it was real, and so reported it.

I might next mention the sudden Deaths of the Dublin Sheriffs; the Tragical Story of a Person that was kill'd by a fall from his Horse; and the dismal Accident of a Child's firing a Garret (with himself in it) with Gunpowder; but shou'd I relate half the Occurrences I met in Dublin, I shou'd swell this Let∣ter beyond measure, so I reserve 'em all for my Summer Ramble; and shall next proceed (that I may ren∣der the account of my Conversation the more com∣pleat) to give a particular Account of the Vis••ts I made in Dublin; for, Madam, as 'tis an Observation, That a Man may be known by his Company, so I think 'tis not incongruous to believe that an Idea of his Conversation may be taken from the Persons to whom, and the Occasions on which he makes his Visits.

And here (Madam) I must first acquaint ye, that soon after my coming to Dublin, Mr. Norman the Bookseller sent one Mr. Rogerson, to invite me to his House; when I came thither, I ••ound his Business was to propose the buying of the Venture I had brought over; in which, though we agreed not, he treated me very kindly, shewing me all his House, and therein his Picture, done so much to the Life, that even Ze••xes or Apelles cou'd scarce exceed it.

From his House he had me to his Garden, which though not very large, is to be much admir'd for the curiousness of the Knots, and variety of choice Flowers that are in it; he ••eing an excellent Florist, and well acquainted with all the variegated Tapistry of Nature, in the several Seasons of the year. Mr. Nor∣man has this peculiar to himself, that whatever he has in his Garden, is the most excellent of its kind: He has a Room adjoyning to this Earthly Paradise, to shelter his more tender Plants and Flowers from the Insults of Winter-storms. From hence he carried

me to a large Ware-house, where he had a large Auction, preparing, as he said, for Sale; though I heard nothing more of it while I staid in Dub∣lin.

Madam, shou'd I give ye this Gentleman's Cha∣racter, I must say,

He's a little squat Man, that loves to live well, and has a Spouse who under∣stands preparing good things as well as the best La∣dy in Ireland; he has a hole too much in his Nose, which I have heard was occasion'd by a Brass Pin in his Nurses Wastcoat; which when he was nuzling for the Diddy, hapned to run in it; and for want of a skilful hand to dress it, the hole remains to this day, and yet without disfiguring his Face.

Before I proceed to the next Visit, give me leave, Madam, being fall'n (a second time) among my Brethren, to spend a few Lines about 'em, among the many I trouble you with concerning other Peo∣ple; they are not a Corporation of themselves, but mixt with Cutlers, and Painter-stainers; and their present Master is Mr. Norman, whose Character I here send ye; with this Addition, that he never opposed my Auction.

Nor must I (Madam) forget the extraordinary Civility of the King's Printer, Mr. Andrew Crook,

Who is a worthy and generous Gentleman, whose Word and Meaning never shake hands and part, but always go together: He is one that is as far from doing other Men an Injury, as he is from desiring to be injur'd; and though his Circumstances are not so great, yet his Soul is as large, as if he were a Prince, and scorns as much to do an unworthy Action. He is a great Lover of Printing, and has a great Respect for all that are related to that No∣ble Mystery.

Having paid my Respects to the King's Printer, I went next to Mr. Thornton, the King's Stationer, of whom I shall say in short,

He's a very obliging Person, has sence enough for a Privy-Counsellor, and good Nature enough for a Primitive Christian. He treated me when I came to Dublin, with a Bottle of Excellent Claret; and if I live to publish

my Summer Ramble, Patrick Campbel shall know (though he was afraid to meet him at the Keys in High-street) there is not a better Neighbour, nor an honester Man in Dublin.

As I pass'd from the King's Stationer, I met with an honest Gentleman, with whom I was for∣merly acquainted in London; 'twas my worthy Friend Dr. Smith, of College-green near Dublin; his Character is above my Pen, yet I may venture to say, He is a Man of extraordinary Sense; and the only Physitian I durst commit the Care of my Health to, in the whole Country: He invited me to his House, and when I came, gave me a hearty Welcome; and for his Treat, though 'twas very Genteel, yet nothing seem∣ed so agreeable to me, as the Doctors Company,

I went next to Brides-street, to pay my Respects to Mr. Wallis (a Member of Parliament) and his Lady, with whom I had the Honour to be acquaint∣ed (at Tunbridge) some years ago; I shall ever ac∣knowledge the generous Reception I met with here, neither can I forget to characterize his extraordina∣ry Kinswoman,

whose Wit and Beauty set her above the rest of the fair Sex, as having nothing in her but what bears witness to the Perfection of her Mind and Body

Saint like she looks, a Syren if she sing; Her Eyes are Stars, her Mind is ev'ry thing.

I wou'd say something too of that ingenious Gentle∣man who is Tutor to Mr. Wallis's Children; for I found (in some Discourses I had with him)

That his Learning and Knowledge had out-strip'd his years; but he's too modest to bear the Character he justly merits; and to speak of him by halfs, is what I can't approve of; so I'll wave his Character with only saying, The Conversation I found here, was the most agreeable of any I met in Dublin.

Durst I here attempt Mr. Wallis's Character, I might say of him (as was said of the Lord Russel) That he's one of the best of Sons, the best of Fathers, the best of Husbands, the best of Masters, the best

of Friends, and the best of Christians; and his Lady is no ways inferior to him for Vertue, Wit, and Gene∣rosity. And her Kinswoman, Madam More (not she that I spake of before, but one I had the Ho∣nour to know at Tunbridge) is so like her in these Qualities, that were their Faces alike too, you cou'd not distinguish one from t'other.

In some Conferences I had with Mr. Wallis about my Welsh Travels, I told him I found the following Epitaph on a Tomb-stone in Conway-Church, which for the Remarkableness of it, I inserted in my Jour∣nal; 'twas this,

Here lies Nicholas Hooks of Con∣way, Gent. the One and Fortieth Child of his Father, William Hooks, Esq by his Wife Alice; and Fa∣ther of Twenty Seven Children himself:

Which was a matchless Instance of a fruitful Family. To which Mr. Wallis reply'd, He heard there had been a Troop in Ireland, wherein, one Mother had Two and Twenty of her own Children listed. Having taken my leave of Mr. Wallis, his Lady, and the rest of his Family, my next Visit was to Sir Henry Ingoldsby, a Member of the Privy Council in Ireland, and a Gentleman of near Ninety Years: When I came to his House, I sent up my Name, and Sir Henry order'd his Gentle∣man to bring me into a private apartment where he was: When I enter'd the Room, Sir Henry receiv'd me in a courteous manner; I told him I presum'd to wait upon him, to enquire whether my Reverend Father, Mr. Iohn Dunton, was not once his Chaplain? and that if he was, it must be Forty years ago. Sir Henry did not at first remember it; but sending to his Lady, she sent word that she did call to mind such a Person; but 'twas added, my Father did not live in the House, but us'd to come often to it. I then ask'd Sir Henry, Whether one Mrs. Marry Hall did not live with him when my Father was in Ire∣land? for that in my Father's Will, was this Ex∣pression,

Item, I bequeath unto Mrs. Mary Hall, servant to Sir Henry Ingoldsby when I was in Ire∣land, Five Pounds, if ever demanded, or she be not dead, for her friendly Offices to me, during a great sickness I had in that Kingdom.

I told Sir Henry, I

was not put upon this Enquiry by the Executrix, but that Providence having brought me to Ireland, (tho' Twenty Years after my Fathers Death) I cou'd not be satisfy'd without enquiring whether this Ma∣ry Hall were alive or dead: To which Sir Henry did me the Honour to reply, It was a Great piece of Iustice in me, if I had no Advantage in it my self: To which I return'd, I had not, any farther than to see to the Execution of my Father's Will. But as to this Mary Hall, Sir Henry told me, he suppos'd she dy'd at Limerick, she marrying thither from his House, to a Rich, but ill-natur'd Man, which soon ended her Days.

Pardon me (Madam) for the digression of this Story: I had some Hesitation in my own Breast about making this Enquiry; I was not satisfy'd that Conscience oblig'd me to it; but not being sa∣tisfy'd without doing it, I did it; and it yet ap∣pearing to me a moot Case, because I was none of the Executor, I leave it to your Determination, Whether I cou'd be under any Obligation in that case or no? This Discourse being ended, I gave Sir Henry an Account of the Reason of my coming for Ireland; with which he was so well pleased, that he promised to give me and my Auction, all the En∣couragement he cou'd; for which I return'd him my humble Thanks, and so took my leave of Sir Henry for that time.

Madam, I dare not presume to give Sir Henry's Character; to describe so great a Man would be a Theam big enough for my Ingenious Friend, Mr. Charles Wormington, (a Person of great Modesty and Worth, and perhaps, the most Ingenious Poet in all Ireland;) but tho' I shan't presume to Character∣ise this ancient Knight, yet I shall say (what every one does)

That he has the Repute of a Person of Great Honour and Probity; and of that great Judgment and Experience in Affairs of State, as renders him worthy of the Dignity of a Privy. Coun∣sellor

which he has been for many years; and tho' he is now arriv'd to Fourscore, (* 1.3 Ten more than the Age of Man) yet he enjoys his Health and

Strength to Admiration; which shews him to have been a Person of great Temperance, and perhaps (on this Account) he has no Equal in Ireland, or it may be, in the whole World.

But to proceed in my Rambles: Having taken my leave of Sir Henry Ingoldsby, in my way home, I met with Lieutenant Downing, my former Fellow Tra∣veller to New England. You can hardly imagine, Madam, how agreeable a thing it is to meet with an old Friend in a Foreign Country: It was some thousands of Miles off, that we were last together; and we were equally surpriz'd to meet each other here: There was in his Company at that time, Captain Annesly, Son to the late Earl of Anglesey, to whom I had the Honour to be related by my First Wife. We stay'd not long in the Street, but went to drink at the Widow Lisles in Castle-street: whither 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to go, out of a Principle of Grati∣tude, hers being the first House that receiv'd me in Dublin: After a Health to the King, (and some others of our Friends in England) we talk'd over our New-England * 1.4 Ramble: After this I told the Lieutenant of my Brother Aanesley's Death; at which he was highly concern'd. This Discourse being ended, Captain Annesley told me, That the Earl his Father, had writ an Excellent History of Ireland; but it was in such hands as he believ'd wou'd strip it of some of its choicest Remarks; and (Madam) this is likely enough; for there are some Men in the World, which are afraid of following Truth too close, lest it shou'd dash out their own Teeth. I then told Captain Annesley. I had Printed his Fa∣ther's Memoirs; (the Copy of which I purchas'd of Sir Peter Pett) and he cou'd not but think 'em genuine, because of that great Amity which was be tween the Eail his Father, and Sir Peter Pett.

To give ye (Madam) the Captains Character,

He is a most accomplish'd Gentleman; not (as a Wit Observes) that thin sort of Animal that flutters from Tavern to Play-house, and back again all his Life; made up with Wig and Cravat, with∣out

one dram of Thought in his Composition; but a Person made up of Solid Worth, as Grave as he is Witty; Brave and Generous, and shews by his humble and courteous Carriage, that he is, and was born, a Gentleman: And for the Lieutenant, (my old Fellow-Traveller) I must say he has much Address, and as great a Presence of Mind, as was ever seen; he is most agreeable Company, and perhaps the best Friend I had in America.

After three hours spent in this Conversation, I went to Visit Captain Townley and his Lady; as also one Madam Congreve; who were all three my Fellow-Travellers in the Coach from Lon∣don to Chester:

The Captain is a Person of Great Honour and Worth;

and so is his Lady; but of these I shall say more in my Summer Ramble; but more particularly of Madam Congreve.

In my way home I call'd upon Mr. 〈◊〉〈◊〉, and his Wife (stil'd, The most Ingenious)

Who, tho' she has Enemies, perhaps as little deserves 'em, as any Woman in Dublin;

and tho' I shou'd get ha∣tred by saying this, yet my way is, to do as I'd bi done by, and to speak as I find; but having Cha∣ractarized the most Ingenious, 'tis fit next, that I speak of her Lord and Master;

He's a very ho∣nest sober Man, and one of that great Modesty, that I heard he went Forty Miles to demand a Debt, which yet he was so civil and courteous as not to ask for when he came there

. But it grew late, so leaving this loving Couple at their Fine Em∣broidery,

I went next to pay a Visit to Mr. Lum in Castle-street, (a Member of Parliament) and one of the chief Bankers in Dublin, whom I made use of, to remit my Moneys to London:

He is a Person of great Integrity, has a good Estate, and is punctu∣ally just and honest in his Dealings. And to com∣pleat his Character, He's a Gentleman of Extraor∣dinary Sense, which he has the Happiness of being able to express in words, as manly and apposite as the Sense included under them. He treated me with much Candor and Respect, as long as I stay'd

in Ireland. His chief Manager of his Business Mr. Purefoy, was also very obllging, and ready to serve me upon all Occasions.

Captain Davis, who was also a Member of the House of Commons, gave me a most obliging Welcome to Dublin, at the Garter-Tavern in Castle-street: If I shou'd attempt this Gentleman's Character, it wou'd be to his Prejudice; for all that I can say, will come far short of what ought to be said, For Sense, Wit, and good Humor, there is but few can equal, and nono that exceed him; and all these Qualities are accompanied with great Humility.

Madam, I had first the honour or being acquainted with this Gentleman at Tunbridge Wells (the same year Mr. Wallis, his Lady, and Madam More, drank these Mineral Waters) and this occasion'd the repeating of what Conversation we had formerly had at Tunbridge; from this we fell to Discourse of the Customs and Manners of the Irish; the Captain told me, they were naturally a very generous People, and so kind to Strangers, that they wou'd go Twen∣ty Miles to set a Man in the right way; and if he hapned to be benighted, they wou'd give him the best Entertainment they had, and even lye out of their own Beds to accommodate him. To this piece of Generosity I might add (what was told me by a another Person) that they will likewise offer him the convenience of a Bedfellow, in case they have a Daughter capable of serving him: But (Madam) I will not be answerable for the Truth of this, which I only relate as what has been told me; and shou'd it be true, my Opinion is, they carry their Genero∣sity a little too far. In my further Conversation with Captain Davis. I ask'd him what Eminent Writers they had in Ireland, and especially whether any of the Fair Sex? To which he reply'd, they had a very celebrated Female Poet (one Mrs. Taylor) who had writ her own Life to a Wonder, when but Ten Years of Age. Madam, I thought these Remark∣able Passages worth noting down in my Iournal; but nothing did so much affect me as a Piece of An∣siquity that the Captain told me he had seen with his

own Eyes. He had seen a Woman very perfect in all her Senses (excepting Hearing) who said she was under Laundress to Queen Elizabeth's chief Laun∣dress, and he told me he believed her to be 130 years old, which for a Woman (naturally subject to more Infirmities than Men) I think to be very ex∣traordinary; and I believe your Ladyship, will be of my Opinion. I had the Honour of enjoying the Captains useful and most pleasant Company for about two Hours, when Night coming on we parted.

The day following (in the Afternoon) I went to see my Ingenious Friend, Mr. Thwaits, his Person is the very Picture of Mr. Dangerfield, to whom (madam) he is so very like, both in Person and Address (Oh what wou'd I give for such a near Re∣semblunce of Iris and D—ne!) that I may well affirm, If you have seen one, you have seen the other: And having said this, I need not tell you what an Extraordinary Man he is:

Mr. Thwaits is a Gentle∣man of a very obliging Tempet, and I believe is as generous to Strangers as any Man in Dublin; he may, without Complement, be called an accom∣plish'd Person; he can do almost every thing, and tis hard to say, what he does with the greatest Grace. And as to-Wit, I was really afraid to hold any Argument with him, for I found he cou'd say what he wou'd, and prove what he said; and in this too, he resembles the Ingenious Dangerfield. In this alone Mr. Thwaits has the Advantage, That his whole Life has been so unblemish'd, even Envy her self can't fix a Blot upon him. His Lady is an Extraordinary Person, worthy of such a Husband; and they both gave me a very generous Welcome, worthy of themselves.

In our Conversation, I af∣firm'd, That a Good Wife generally, if not always, makes a good Husband; which is undoubtedly mat∣ter of Fact: For tho' we suppose the Husband to be the worst of Men, and one that abuses his Wife in a villanous manner; yet his Spouse, if she be a good Wife, by her meek and patient suffering under such Abuses, cannot but some time or other (as long as he's a Man) be overcome by the Patience of his

Wife, and at last be brought to compassionate her Wrongs; and in time this Compassion may turn him to the ways of Vertue: But then she must be as well a good Wife, as a good Woman; for there are many Pious Women that are far from being good Wives. She must be one that's of a good Humor, and always appear so to her Husband; and if in time this does not make a Husband better, he ought to be herded with the Brutes, and not reckon'd amongst humane Creatures. And yet after all (Madam) I am afraid that some such Brutes there are in the World; but this will make nothing at all against my Assertion, because there is no general Rule, but admits of some Exceptions.

My next Visit was to the Lady Sands, (Mr. Thwaits Sister) I had the honour to meet her first at Mr. Shaws (a Bookseller on Corkhill) where she invited me to her House (here I had the good luck to meet my ingenious Friend Mr. Thwaits a second time)

My Lady Sands is a Person of great Piety, and extraor∣dinary Sence; and I found in those few Minutes I had the Honour to enjoy her Company, that her Hus∣band is as happy in a tender, disereet and obliging Wife, as any Gentleman in the Kingdom of Ireland.

In this Visit I had the Favour of some Discourse with her eldest Daughter, whose Beauty, Vertue, and good Humor is equal to that of the best Ladies in Dublin. The Lady Sands, Husband is Mr. Clarksgn. Son to Mr. David Clarkson, the late Nonconformist, so deservedly famous for his learned Works. This Gentleman I was formerly acquainted with, and if I don't mistake, he was in New-England in that ve∣ry year that I rambled thither; but though we had been old Acquaintance, I mist him in this Visit, and never had the Happiness to see him, whilst I was in Ireland. At taking my leave of my Lady Sands she was pleased to send Recommendations by me to her Mother-in-Law, now in England.

From my Lady Sands House I went directly to my Auction, and in my way thither I met the Ingenious Mr. Wright, an Ensign in the Army, but a Person of great Perfections, both of Body and Mind. Madam,

this Gentleman reconciles the Lyon and the Lamb exactly; for being a Commission Officer, in the Field he seems made only for War, and any where else for nothing but Love.

He is naturally brisk and gay, yet one of a very compassionate Temper; and I see by him that Pitty never looks so bright as when it shines in Steel: But why do I praise particular Vertues, when he excells in all? He does nothing but what looks very handsom, and there is a Charm in the meanest, and something most bewitchingly pleasant in the most indefensible of his Actions.

He was much surprizd to see me in Ireland; for he was Brother to one that had been my Apprentice, which was the Original of our Acquaintance: We met again by appointment that Night at the Tavern, with one Mr. Young, a Gentleman of the College, and another Gentleman to me unknown. The Ensign told me, he had that day the Honour of Dining with her Grace, the Dutchess of Ormond, which led us to discourse of the matchless Vertues of that Noble Lady, and other Subjects which I now forget. Mr. Young also oblig'd me so far, as to settle a par∣ticular Friendship with me; and I wish I deserv'd the Honour he did me in that matter; for he's a Gentleman of great Humility, and I believe (if I may judge by those few Minutes I spent in his Conversation) never read of a Vertue, which he did not forthwith put into Practice. One part of our Conversation related to the Ensign, who though the Possessor of so many Excellencies, yet continues a single Man, which gave us occasion to wonder, that none of the Dublin Ladies had ingross'd so rich, a Treasure to themselves. We had appointed another Meeting before I went away, to drink my Boon Voy∣age; but Wind and Tide (which stays for no Man) hurry'd me away; so I was disappointed of my intended Happiness, and forc'd to be so rude as to leave Dublin, without taking leave of some other Friends.

Having left the Ensign (and my new Friend Mr. Young) I went next to pay my Respects to the Reverend Mr. Iohn Boyse, whose ingenious An∣swer

to Bishop King, and several others of his curi∣ous Composures, have so justly recommended his Learning and Piety to the World. Madam, I have already sent you this Gentlemans Character, and shall speak further of him in my Summer Ramble. He gave great Encouragement to my Auction, as well for my own sake (as he was pleas'd to tell me) as for my Reverend Father-in-law, Dr. Annesley's. He is now Preaching on the Four last Things: His Subject was Heaven, when (Mr. Larkin, and) I heard him; and he Preach'd in such an extraordi∣nary manner on that Subject, as if (with St. Paul) he had been in the Third Heaven himself, and was return'd to relate what he had seen.

I next Visited Mr. Sinclare, another Nonconfor∣mist Minister, in Dublin.

He is a most affectionate Preacher, and a Person of a sweet Disposition, and extreamly obliging:

He gave me a hearty welcome to his House, having been before acquainted with me at Bristol. Some Discourses we had about Persecution, occasion'd him to tell me, that a Nonconformist Meeting was supprest at Gallway by the Magistrates there, whilst a Popish Meeting was suffer'd to be kept unmolested. He spake very ho∣nourably of my Father-in-law, Dr. Annesley: And promis'd me, if I came again, I shou'd have all the Encouragement that he cou'd give me. I heard him preach on the 30th of September, on Mark 9. 24. about Faith, on which he made an Excellent Sermon.

Nor was my Happiness less in being acquainted with Mr. Emlyn, who is Mr. Boyse's Assistant. I met this Gentleman several times at my Auction; so that I find he was one of my Benefactors.

He's a very solid, rational, judicious Divine, and lives the Doctrine he Preaches.

I heard his Sermon to the Society for Reformation, at New-Row, on 1 Sam. 2. 30. This Sermon is since Printed, and I wish (Madam) I cou'd send it to ye; for some that have read it, say a better Sermon was never publish'd.

As to the Reverend Mr. Nathaniel Weld, though I had no Personal Acquaintance with him, yet I went

several times with Mr. Larkin to hear him; once more particularly, when he preach'd on the 130th Psalm, about Forgiveness; his whole Sermon was very excellent, but I took more particular Notice of the following Passages; We live upon Forgiveness every day: What Ioy wou'd Forgiveness make in the black Regions! The Devils nover had the offer of a Saviour; but we are still in the Land of Hope.

Madam, I have already given you a short Cha∣racter of this Pious, Learned, and Excellent Preacher, and shall say no more of him here, but in my Sum∣mer Ramble I shall give his and his Brethrens Cha∣racters at large; for, Madam, to confess the truth (tho' I go now and then to hear a Divine of the Church of England, as I told ye before) yet that I more frequently hear the Dissenting Ministers: I don't know how your Ladyship will relish this? for I don't remember in any Discourses we had in Dublin (where I had first the Honour of being known to you) that you ever mention'd your going to any Meeting; but whatever your Practice or thoughts are in this respect,I must acquaint you, that I practise nothing that I think unlawful; and am very willing (when your Ladyship has answer'd those Twelve Hundred uncommon diverting Subjects that I intend to send ye in so many distinct Letters) to defend my Practice in this matter; for (Madam) there are but Thirty Nine Articles of the Church of England, and the Presbyterians (who are a Religious and Conscienti∣ous People) approve of Thirty Six of 'em, and the rest are (justly) call'd indifferent; so that (Madam) if hereafter you'll give me leave to write to ye on this Subject, I shall endeavour to prove (in several Letters) that my going now and then to a Meeting is no unnecessary Separation, or any departing from the True Church. (For such I esteem the Church of England.)

Madam, having visited the Nonconformists, my next Ramble was to Mr. Harman, a young Gentle∣man, and Son to Collonel Harman, (a Member of the House of Commons.) In this Visit, my Friend Mr. Lar∣kin was with me; where, after mutual Salutations,

(and sitting down by a good Fire) we fell into a pleasant Chat, first of Antipathles in Nature; and here Mr. Harman told us a Story of a Gentleman that bought a Muff; This Person had a natural An∣tipathy against Cats, and therefore desir'd the Furrier, who sold him the Muff, that it shou'd not be lin'd with any Cat-skin; which the Furrier (who liv'd in Essex-street) assur'd him it was not; upon this the Gentleman bought it, and design'd to wear it home, but by that this he came to Crane-lane (which was not above a Bow-shot from the Furriers) the Gentle∣man fell into a Swoon, and was taken up for dead; but upon the taking away the Muff, he came to himself again; but fell into a great Rage against the Furrier, threatning to kill him; which he having notice of, got out of the way.

Mr. Harman's Discourse being ended, I next told the Story of my Aversion to Cheese when I was young; and how my Father's causing me to eat it unknown, had like to have kill'd me; which Aversion notwith∣standing, I afterwards overcame; and now love Cheese aswell as any Man. We then discours'd of the Antipathy that Cats have to Men; and of their taking away Mens Breath when asleep, with other things to that purpose: This led us to talk of Sym∣pathy, and the Wonders thereof; and more parti∣cularly of Sir Kenelm Dighy's Sympathetical Powder, and the great Cures wrought by it. From hence we fell to talk of a third Wonder in Nature, viz. Mens walking in their Sleep; of which Mr. Larkin gave a memorable Relation of a House supposed to be haunted; which was only occasioned by one of the Gentlemans Daughters, who walked in her Sleep eve∣ry Night; which was at last discover'd by a Stran∣ger's having Courage enough to lie in the Room said to be haunted: This naturally led us in the fourth place, to talk of Apparitions; and here Mr. Harman ask'd me what I thought of a Spe∣ctrum's assuming a Humane Shape? I assur'd him they might; and to confirm this, told him the Story of one Ioseph Chambers, who appeard to

* 1.5 Mary Gossam (with whom I was well acquainted) in that very Night-Cap which she put upon his Head when she had laid him out.

This Story of Chambers appearing after his Death, led Mr, Larkin to tell another of an Apparision he had seen in Staffordshire in his Youth, which he thought had been a living Woman, till he saw it va∣nish; adding, That he look'd upon the denying of Spirits, and their appearing to Persons after Death, to be the next degree to Atheism.

After about two hours spent in such agreeable Conversation, we took our leave of Mr. Harman,

Who is a Gentleman of a fine Presence, and of a most sweet and affable Temper. He is now in the Bloom and Beauty of his Youth; and his great Ingenuity and close Application to his Study, do justly render him the growing hopes of his Father's Family, and may in time to come, render him an Ornament to the College.

I am afraid, Madam, I shall tire you with this tedious Relation of my Visits; but I hope your Goodness will pardon me; for 'tis necessary to be thus particular, that I may silence the lying Tongue of Patrick Campbel, who has had the Impudence to say, That I kept Company in Dublin, with none but a Kennel of Scoundrels: Whereas you see (by the Visits I made) That I was not acquainted with one Scoundrel in Dublin, except himself, and the Brass in Copper-Allcy.

This naturally brings me to acquaint your Lady∣ship, That among those I Employ'd to bind up Books for my Auction,

I had to do with one that I call Brass, a Man poor and Proud, unacquainted with Honour or good Manners; to supply the want of which, he is well furnished with Conceit and Im∣pudence.

Being thus qualified, he was look'd up∣on by St. Patrick as a fit Tool for him; and accord∣ly chosen for his Auctioneer, though he knew not how to read the Title of a Latin Book. But the Gentlemen of Dublin, who had been genteely treated

with Wit and Sense at my Auction by Mr. Wilde, could not bear with the gross Ignorance of a Brass Hammer; so that Patrick was forc'd to discard him in a Weeks time, and put a better Man* 1.6 in his Place. This Brass knowing the necessity I was under of having my Books bound in order to sale, resolves to make me pay a rate for Binding, not only beyond what was given in London, but even beyond what was given by the Booksellers of Dublin: I found, Madam, I was in his hands, and remem∣ber'd the Proverb, That he that's in a Boat with the Devil, must land where he can. There was a Ne∣cessity of having my Books bound, and I was forc'd to comply with his unreasonable Rates. How this consisted with Iustice and Equity, I leave you to judge; but those were things Brass never troubled his Head about; for when he brought me in his Bill, he over-charg'd even his own unreasonable Agreement, which I refus'd to pay; but offer'd to refer it to one Mr. Servant (a Binder in Golden∣lane) with whom I had made the same agreement as I did with him; but Servant being a very honest man, Brass, refus'd to have the thing decided by him, because then he was sure 'twould go against him: And therefore this Fellow (who for his Im∣pudence I call the Brass in Copper-Alley) serves me with a Token from the Lord Mayor, to appear be∣fore him, which I accordingly did; (as I formerly hinted in p. 104. of the Dublin Scuffle) and having told his Lordship what I had offer'd, he was pleas'd to say, It was a very fair Proposal I made him, and so dismiss'd us both, which was all he got by his Two-penny Token.

Having done with this Scoundrel (to use St. Pa∣trick's Phrase) I will next give you an Abstract of Mr. Servant's Character, who, though of the same Function, is the direct Antipodes to the Brass of Copper-Alley; this being as eminent for Honesty, fair Dealing, Truth, and Iustice, as the other is for Pride, Conceit, and Ignorance. But Mr. Servant's Re∣putation does not need a Foil to set it off:

For he

is well known in Dublin to be all that I here say. But I shall add to the good Character he has already, that I never met with a more scrupu••ous, or conscientious Man in my whole Life; he's pun∣ctual to his word in the smallest matters, and one that manages all his Affairs with Discretion: Cour∣teous and affable in his Conversation, and ready to do every one what good he can. In short, his Life is the Exemplar of a Christians Practice.

But leaving Thomas, &c. hard at work, (for he's a very industrious Man)

My next Visit shall be to Mr. Iey, and Eminent Lawyer in Dublin. He was a Benefactor to my Auction, and my very sincere Friend: And to say the Truth, whatever the Lawyers are in other Coun∣tries, yet in Ireland they are the best Gentlemen and the best Christians.

From hence, to close the Evening, I went to take a Dish at Patt's,

who is a fair-condition'd Man, and very obliging to all his Customers: Loving to do business without making a noise on't. 'Twas here I sometimes met with Mr. Pitts, an honest and in∣genious Attorney, a Man of good Worth, and un∣blemish'd in his Reputation, Madam, he talks finely (dresses his Thoughts in curious Language) and has good Nature in his very Looks; he is a true lover of the present Government, and a brave Assertor of English Liberties, in opposition to Pope∣ry and Slavery.

I wou'd say more of the ingenious Pitts, but that I shall meet him again in my Sum∣mer Ramble.

Madam, just as I left Patts, I met with my wor∣thy and ingenious Friend, Dr. Wood, Physician in Kilkenny, with whom, and Dr. Smith. I spent some agreeable Hours, of which expect a fuller Account in the conclusion of this Letter; and also in my Summer Ramble, where you'll also meet the Discourse I had with a Gentleman about the Earl of Meath's Hunting Pigg, which will be very diverting.

And now Madam, as your several Directions to me inform'd you of the changing of my Lodgings, so I think it proper here to give you my Reasons for so doing.

My first Lodging was at a Counsellors in Wine-Tavern-street, who being in some danger of over∣taking the Law (for he had out-ran his own Practice) left his House, and as 'tis suppos'd, the Kingdom too. Yet I must say, 'As to his Conver∣sation, he's a Gentleman; (tho' un∣der a Cloud) and sings (I'll find* 1.7 out a kinder, a better than she, beyond any Man in Christendom:) and as for his Lady, she deserves the following Character;

She's discreet and witty, the best of Wives; and I hear, has the Name for being a Beauty;

'tis true, I never thought her so, but I am no Judge I find; for she's bright and fair; and those that admire a R—d Colour, cry, there's no Sun but in her Eyes; but as famous as she is for Beauty, I must own, while I liv'd with her, I saw nothing but what was Modest and Honourable; and I shall ever have some Kindness for Counsellor H—as he was the occasion of my being acquainted with my worthy Friend, Mr. William Wainwright;

who, tho' he lives a Batcheler, is a Person of strict Modesty, and has the symptoms of a good Christian; for he's sincere in what he says, and is as Religious in all his Actions; and to crown his Character, he's a Person of great Humility, and of a most sweet natural Temper; and (Madam) I must say, there's no Vertue I'd wish in a Friend,

but I find it in William Wain-wright. He was the first Acquaintance I had in Dublin; and we were so little weary of one ano∣ther, that he was one of those that saw me a Ship∣board (when I left Ireland) tho' to the hazard of his Life, for I sail'd in a sort of a Storm.

And as I thank H—for bringing me acquainted with this worthy Gentleman, so I'm oblig'd to him for the favour he did me in first making me known tot he vertuous and ingenious Mrs. Edwards, whose Character (Madam) I shall here give you.

She's a Country Gentlewoman, of admirable Per∣fections of Body and Mind; modest to the highest degree, and of a most agreeable Conversation; with which, for my own part, I was very much

delighted; and I am ready to flatter my self, mine was not altogether ungrateful to her; and how can you blame me (Madam) to think thus, since a Lady of your Quality has not disdain'd to grant me the honour of a Correspondence with you.

Apelles, the famous Painter of Greece, when he was to draw any curious Picture, wou'd have se∣veral celebrated Beauties before him, that he might draw an Eye from this, a Mouth from that, and a Meen from t'other, &c. Had Mrs. Edwards liv'd in the time of Apelles, he need not have hunted about for Beauties, for he had found 'em all in this vertu∣ous Person; so I'll descend (for my general Cha∣racter don't set her in a full Light) to a more parti∣cular Description of her.

And I'll begin first with her Face, which is neither oval nor long; her Hair is black, or near it (and then I need no•• tell ye 'tis charming.) As to her Eyebrows, they are a great Ornament to her Face, and look as exact as if the Hand of Art and Na∣ture had been at Work. Excellently well propor∣tion'd is her Nose, not sharp nor big; but gives a noble Air to her Face. Her Mouth little and pret∣ty; her Lips of a charming Red;

And do like to the Twins of Cupid's Mother, still kiss, because in love with one another.

Her Teeth are even and well set, and look as white as Snow. Her Eyes (her tempting Eyes) full of fire and briskness, and temper'd with an at∣tractive languishing. As to her Neck and Breasts they are the best sized that ever you saw, and of a dazling whiteness, as well as her Arms and Hands As to her Body, 'tis small, and of a curious shape, and is supported with handsom Legs, as I do be∣lieve (for I never saw 'em.) As to her Stature, she is of a little pitch; and is so neat, so free, so disingag'd, that there's few like her; (save Rachel Seaton, whose Picture she is) and Mr.—who unsuccessfully attempted her Chastity, swears at her Vertue, and often wishes she had fewer Charms.

She hath a noble Air in her Walk, and has the Dress, Looks, and Behaviour of a Gentlewoman; and wants nothing but a Fortune to make her so: In a word, she has something so distingushing in her whole Person, that when she was single (for you'll hear by and by she's marry'd) she more distress'd her Husband's Liberty, than others did with all their Art, and more curious Dresses; so much for her Person.

As to her Mind, which is the Charm of Charms (you know Madam, I ever thought so) she's Pi∣ous, but not a jot reserv'd; and has more Devo∣tion in her Heart than Eyes. As to her Wit and Singing, it so strangely surpriz'd me that day she went with the Counsellor to Malhide (which Ad∣venture you'll have in my Summer Ramble) that I am hardly yet come to my self; for I cou'd not conceive how a Female cou'd have (in that mean Cabin* 1.8 where she dwells) all the Politeness and Accom∣plishments of a Court. As to her Heart I can say nothing, and 'tis not sit I shou'd; but (Madam) this I'll say (by being a Platonick Lover; for I am the same in Dublin as I was in London) she allows me all the Liberty I ask, or Vertue will give, which can't be much; for I have a Wife of my own, that's (far) more charming in my Eye, and one I love above all the World; be∣sides, I am by Nature as cold as Ice, and I be∣lieve (If I may trust my Eyes and Ears) that she's Chast, so much as in Thought. And as she's very Innocent, so of consequence very Charitable, and speaks ill of nothing.

Madam, she has other extra∣ordinary Qualities I cou'd tell you of, (for this is but a hasty draught of this Excellent Person) but here's enough to shew what Mrs. Edwards really is, and what all her Sex shou'd be.

And now Madam, who'd think that a Person of such Vertue, shou'd have any Enemies? But as Dryden says, The Butt of Envy still is Excellence; and she is not without slander, tho' (I had almost said) she as little deserve, it as Vertue it self;

but the very Reflections she meets with (as well as her real Vertues) do but add further to her good•• Character; for 'tis none but Scoundrels (I mean such as wou'd corrupt her Vertue and can't) that give her an ill word; she's proof against the blaze of Gold: Then no wonder if a Town-Bull (such a one as A—S—) shou'd abuse that Vertue he can't de∣bauch: Such as these reflect on a Woman, not be∣cause she's lewd, but because they find her too Spi∣ritual (too Platonick) for their Embraces; 'tis this, like Esop's Fox, makes 'em cry, the Grapes are sow∣er. But the bad word of a lewd Person is the best Encomium a Vertuous Woman can have; for 'tis by the Judgment of Sober People that a Reputation stands or falls; and by all such Mrs. Edwards was highly valued. I am told, that noless a Person than the Countess of Meath, honoured her with a tender Friendship: The Lady Davis, and Madam Gilbert do the same; and she's as kindly receiv'd in Mr. Vsher's Family: Mr. Meegee and his Wife (Per∣sons of great Piety) scarce covet any other Compa∣ny. Mrs. Brown at the Currow has a particular Friend∣ship for her; Mrs. Persons, Mrs. Ware, Mrs. Ryley, have the like; and wherever she boards, they are scarce easie a minute without her. Then Madam, I shan't ask your Pardon (or Valeria's either) for my giving this tender Character of Mrs. Edwards; for as you are both Vertuous Persons, you'd surely be angry with me, shou'd I forbear praising what so much deserves it. Besides, I am mistaken in both of ye, if your great Innocence don't set you above suspicion; ('tis only guilty People are Jealous;) or if it don't (to tell you the plain truth) my Inno∣cence is too great to need my concealing my Thought of her; and the rather still, as her Hus∣band has said (in the presenceof Mr. Larkin) that had he ever been Jealous ofher (as he never was in his whole Life) yet that he shou'd now believe her Vertuous, for my having a good Opinion of her; which I don't speak out of Ostentation, but to shew her Innocence, and my own too. Thus (Madam) you see, by my Character of Mrs. Edwards, that

my Vertue is safe enough; for tho' she's a Woman (a thing in Petticoate) yet my Love is all Platomak, to all, except Valarid. (So Angels Love, and all the rest is dross.) Really Madam, I am such an Enemy to running astray, that I heathily wish Adultery were Death; and that it were b••r••ing in the Hand, so much as to kin another Man's wife: But there's no Sex in Souls; and I think it a Duty to admire Ver∣tue where e're, I find it; then surely none but Scoundrels. (I mean such as are Lewd themselves) and so can't help suspecting of others, will censure a Friendship, where the Body has nothing to do; but if any are so vile as to nibble at this Character, they may go about their business; for, Madam, I have not an Acquanitance in the whole World (except your self, and the dear Valeria) but may find enough in his own Breast to damp his consuring me, or that vertuous Person whose Character I here send ye.

You see (Madam) by these words, that I am a great Enemy to Complements; nay, I often wish (as Valeria says) that there were no such thing in the World; and when I am dead and gone, I wou'd willingly come again to contrdict any one that reports me otherwise than I am, tho' he did it to Honour me.

Madam, having given ye the true Character of Mrs. Edwards, perhaps you'll be desirous to know who 'tis that is blest with so great Treasure; which obliges me to give ye the following Character of Mr. Edwards:

He is a Person of an indifferent Stature, neither tall, nor short; and tho' no Pre∣tender to any extraordinary Perfections, is far from being contemptible: He has a Martial Coun∣tenance, and a Mind like it, and will turn his back to no man in a just Cause, nor receive an Affront from any. He has not indeed the Politeness of a Courtier, but an honest bluntness, that better be∣comes him: His only fault is, he has been former∣ly unkind to his Wife; but he has made her part of amends, both in a just acknowledgment, and by an extraordinary fondness since; upon which she has been so generous to forgive him; and he

takes it so very kindly,

that they are now as happy a Couple as any that live in Ireland.

Having left the Counsellors House, (where I came, acquainted with Mr. Wainwright, and Mrs. Edwards, whose Characters I have here sent ye) I retreated for a little Air and Solitude, to Arbo••r-hill (a mile from Dublin) to the House of one Mr. Thomas Or∣son, who with his Wife (an antient couple) seem to be like Adam and Eve in Paradise; he employ∣ing himself in his Garden (where I have a Nosegay ev'ry Morning, my Landlady finding I admire Flowers) and she within doors in making of Milk-water, of which she distills very large quantities. I think my self obliged to let 'em live as long as this Paper holds, in Gratitude for those Parental Tendernesses they shew'd me when I languish'd with the Bloody-Flux; (which seiz'd me in this House.) Neither were they less kind in curing a bite given me by a* 1.9 Great Mastiff•• who had one night torn me to pieces, had not the drawing my Sword baulk'd his At∣tempt.

Madam, the Reason of my coming to this Country-Seat, was my great Indisposition of Body, and being tyred with the Hurries of Dublin; I have in my Dublin Scuffle given ye my thoughts of a Private Life, for I am as great an Admirer of it, as your Ladyship is of Gardens; and I suppose you won't blame me for it; for the three first Men in the World were a Gardiner, a Plowman, and a Grasier; even the Great Cowley, that had known what Cities, Vniversities, and Courts cou'd afford, broke through all the intanglements of it; and which was harder, a vast Praise; and retired to a solitary Cottage near Barn-Elms, where his Garden was his Pleasure, and he his own Gardiner; whence he giveth us this fol∣lowing Doctrine of Retirement; and may (as William Pen says) serve for an Account how well he was pleased in his change. The first Work (saith he) that a man must do to make himself capable of the good of Solitude, is the very Eradication of all Lusts;

for how is it possible for a man to enjoy himself, while his Affections are tyed to things without him∣self. The First Minister of State hath not so much business in Publick, as a wise Man hath in Private; if the one have little leisure to be alone, the other hath less leisure to be in Company; the one hath but part of the Affairs of one Nation, the other all the Works of God and Nature under his Considerati∣on. There is no saying shocks me so much, as that which I hear very often, That a man doth not know how to pass his Time: 'Twou'd have been but ill spoken by Methusalem in the Nine Hundred Sixty Ninth Year of his Life; the meaning of all this is no more than that vulgar saying, Bene qui latuit, bene vixit; He hath lived well, who hath lain well hidden; which if it be a truth, the World is suffici∣ently deceiv'd; for my part I think it is; and that the pleasantest condition of Life is in Incognito: What a brave Priviledge it is to be free from all Noise and Nonsence; from all envying, or being en∣vyed; from receiving and paying all kind of Cere∣monies: our Senses here are feasted with the, clear and genuine Taste of their Objects, which are all so∣phisticated in Courts and Cities. Charles V. Em∣perour of Germany, after conquering four King∣doms, &c. resign'd up all his Pomp to other Hands, and betook himself to his Retirement, leaving this Testimony behind him, concerning the Life he spent in that little time of his retreat from the World, That the sincere study of the Christian Religion had in it such Ioys and Sweetness, as Courts were Strangers to.

Thus Madam have I sent you the true Reason for my leaving Counsellor H—, and betaking my self to a Private Life; wherein, not only Antiquity pleads for me, but the Example of Cowley, and the best and greatest Men of the Age.

And Madam, as I am charm'd with a private Life, and with every day a green Prospect, so there is a dainty one adjoyning (Mr. Orson's House) my pre∣sent Quarters; where I often wander up and down to think of you, and the Dear Valeria. I told you

before, 'twas my fortune to Travel; and even in Dub∣lin it self, I am not without my Rambles: One I make to represent Drapers Garden: The other Step∣ney Fields: Another St. Iames's Park: And when I pass through Skinner Row (where the Scuffle was) methinks I am in Cheapside, and shall soon be at the Raven in Iewin-street, the only House on Earth* 1.10 I love, Pray Madam let me know if it stands in the old place; 'tis a mighty Pleasure for us Travellers, to hear how Mat∣ters goe in England. But as much as I love the Raven, I thought my self very happy at Mr. Or∣son's (I mean as happy as I cou'd be without Vale∣ria.) But how uncertain are worldly Comforts? For I had not (Madam) sojourned many days at Mr. Or∣son's House, but I fell sick (as I said before) of the Bloody Flux, the usual distemper of the Country, and many times fatal; so that I might have iust Apprehensions of a speedy dissolution of my Earthly Frame, I being at best of no strong Constitution: To say I had no fear of Death at all upon me under these Circumstances, would savour more of an hard∣ned insensibility of Heart, and Pagan ignorance, than the Piety and Consideration of a Christian; but herein an enumeration of the particulars of my past Life was presented to me, and things appear'd with very different Aspects, but yet not so frightful, but that through the Divine Goodness, I had hopes left of the Remission of all my Sins, upon the sole Ac∣count of my Saviour's Merits; but I dare not be so presumptuous, as to say, my Faith amounted to an assurance of my Eternal Salvation: Yet I may say, I began more seriously than ever, to consider what I was; whence I came; and whether I was going? For (Madam) as I said before, a near prospect of Death makes the World, and all things in it, appear with a quite different face from what it did. The belief I shou'd now dye, made me to think why I liv'd; where I shou'd be buried, and what wou'd become of me after Death? I now began to review

the whole Course of my Life; and whether, if Time wou'd* 1.11 unweave my Life again to the first thread, I wou'd live just as I had done? Ah! Madam, the fashion of the World passes away; and a sick-bed presently convinces us of the Vanity of Riches, Honours, Pleasures; How mean and con∣temptible do these things appear in the Eyes of a dying Man? They can't help us to a good Conscience; give a Minutes ease, or save from the Grave: Sure I am, whilst my Distemper lasted, wou'd any one ha' given me the whole World, I cou'd ha' thought of nothing but the Terrors of Death, the certainty of Iudgment, the Glories of Heaven, the Torments of Hell, the Comforts of a good Conscience; and what I must do to be saved, with the necessity of a good Life; and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 through Mercy I am now recover'd, I hope to the end of my Life, I shall think of the World just as I did when I thought I was leaving it; and to this end I desire Death may be much in my ••houghts, and the remaining, part of my Life a continual Pre∣paration for it. We read of one, that every time he heard the Clock, cryed, well, now I have one hour less to live. I wish I cou'd imitate this good Man; however, I will look upon every day as if it were my last; that so when Death comes in earnest, I may be ready and willing to dye; and after Death I doubt not but my Body will rise again; I will therefore no longer spend my Hours in pampering of that which will be food for Worms. But I will not, Madam, enter upon all the Conceptions and Idea's I had in this Sickness, of the future World; some of 'em being perhaps more the fancy of my own Brain, than any true Representation of the thing it self: But it having pleased Almighty God to make my Illness of a short Duration, I shall from the more Melancholly Scene of Death, pass to the more pleasing Actions of Life; and take the liberty to acquaint ye, that I now began to visit my Friends, and to take some innocent Diversion abroad: But (Madam) no Pleasure is lasting with me (I find;) for I had not been long recovered, and able to walk

abroad, but I was hurry'd from my Dublin Paradise; (I mean Mr. Orson's House) for Mr. Wild (who manag'd my Auction) being just now arriv'd from London, I was forc'd to remove to Mr. Landers's in Capel-street, that I might be nearer my Business;

Mr. Landers's Character resembles that of old Jacob, being a plain, but sincere hearted Man; and his Wife as good a Landlady, and one of the best of Nurses for an infirm Person,

which was then my Condition; nor must I forget honest Kate, their Servant, whose Readiness and Care to please me, supply'd her want of Understanding (Point-work.)

But that my Condition in my Absence from Vale∣ria, might truly resemble that of a Pilgrim, who is continually in motion, I was forc'd to remove yet nearer my Auction, upon the Information I receiv'd of my Porter's being turn'd Thief; so that from Landers's House I remov'd to Mr. Cawley's, at the Tennis-Court in Wine-Tavern-street.

Mr. Cawley is a very humble and agreeable Person, civil and obliging to all his Lodgers; and I must say (to do him right) to me in a very particular manner; and so was his Wife also, who is a very ingenious, discreet, and prudent Person; and both of 'em ex∣press'd an uncommon concern at my parting with them,

which was not until I came for England: Nor must I forget my Kinswoman Iuggee (as I us'd to call her) who was their trusty Servant.

Thus Madam, I have briefly given you an Ac∣count of the Reasons and Causes I had for my seve∣ral Removes from one Lodging to another; and how happy I was in meeting with kind Landlords. And were I in England again (and I cast longing looks that way evry day) I'd say more in their Praise; but oh this cruel distance! well, had I the same advantage of speed to send unto you at this time in this place, as they have from Scandaroon, when, upon the coming in of any Ship into Harbor, they use to send their Letters by Pigeons to Aleppo, and other Places; I say (Madam) had I such an airy Postilion, I'd send ye these Occurrences more at large.

Madam, If you shou'd ask me, which I lik'd best of my four Lodgings, my Answer is, I look'd upon 'em all as Places I must quickly leave, which made 'em all indifferent to me; but cou'd I have enjoy'd Valeria there, I shou'd have given the Preference to Mr. Orson's, his curious Gardens being very de∣lightful, and his House a (private) Country-Seat.

Thus Madam, I have given you a brief Account of my way of Living in Dublin; with which (had I had Valeria's ('batying Company) I shou'd have thought my self very happy; for through the Divine Good∣ness (bating my first fit of Sickness) I enjoy'd a competent measure of Health; those other Indisposi∣tions I sometimes met with, serv'd only as Memen∣to's, to put me in mind of preparing for another W••rld; and even under them, I was chearful and well contented; having (tho, not exempt from humane Infirmities) no guilt of any wilful Sin ly∣ing on my Conscience; so that all troublesome Thoughts were banish'd from my Breast, and I pass'd away my Life with great Delight.

And now being pretty well, I had a mind to ramble into the Country for a little Conversation among the Irish (of which more anon) and to view the Cabins, Manners, and Customs, &c. of the dear Ioyes; but the Company I met in Dublin was so agreeable, I cou'd not presently leave it; and which made it yet the more delightful (after my Recovery) I sometimes convers'd with Counsellor Kairns, Counsellor Stevens, Mr. Bourn, Mr. Bos∣worth, Mr. Crawcroft, Men eminent for Piety, Wis∣dom, Learning, and all other Vertues; by whose Con∣versation I improv'd my own Understanding; and found that the knowledge of my own Ignorance, was a great step towards being a good Proficient in the School of Wisdom.

When I cou'd not have such Company, I gave my self to Reading some useful Book or other (the Bible having always the preference) and afterwards to writing my American Travels, and Summer Ram∣ble, both which I begun and finish'd in Ireland.

I enjoy'd also (especially when I lay at Mr. Or∣son's) the Pleasure of walking in a delightful Gar∣den, well furnish'd with the most curious Herbs and Flowers; whose various Colours delighted my Eye, and their Fragrancy my Smell: Besides which, I had the Satisfaction of a lovely Prospect; South∣wards, towards the City of Dublin, I had the silent Murmurs of the River Lyffee in my way; Westward I had a full view of Kilmanum Hospital, which at that distance (being seated on the summit of a Hill) was a very agreeable Prospect. To the North∣wards (or rather the Northwest) I had the plea∣sant sight of a Village call'd Kabragh, which was pretty near; and at a greater distance, the fine Town of Finglass, seated on a Hill, where I had a noble Prospect of the Sea, and of all the Ships in the Harbor of Dublin.

Sometimes I wou'd walk down from my Lodging to the River-side, which was not a Mile from it, where the pleasant Rills of running Water were ex∣tream delightful.

At other times I wou'd walk through those green Meadows from the end of Stony-batter to the Ka••∣ragh, which is a Village about a Mile from my Lodging, full of stately Trees, which gives a plea∣sing shade, and delightful Prospect. From whence, as I came back, I had the Sea and Harbour direct∣ly in my View.

And sometimes, Madam, I walk to Chappel-Izod, to visit the Lord Clonuff, who is President of the Illustrious House of Cabinteelee, and confers Ho∣nours as freely as a Prince, tho' with more Cere∣mony than those of the Round-Table: During the time of my last being there, he created no less than Four Noble-Men, of which the Duke of Fr••om was one; the Marquess of Swan-Castle carrying the Sword, and assisting at the Ceremony; but more of this in my Summer Ramble, where you'll have the History of my Lord Clonuff at large, with a merry Account of the Original of the House of Cabinteeiee, and the Ho∣nours the President has conferr'd; with an exact List of the Nobility created by the said President.

Sometimes I wou'd for my Diversion, ride out a few Miles, either to Santry, Swords, or Mallahide; a Place as Eminent as Billinsgaie for Peoples going to eat Oysters there: And that which made these little Iourneys more delightful, was, that I had now, though at a distance, the Sea within my view, which I like well enough on shore, but not on board, for I am always sick on the Ocean.

Sometimes I walk along the Strand, up to Clan∣tarff, which when the Tide is in, is very pleasant; and the next day perhaps I take a Ramble to Don∣nibroe••, Dumcondrah, Repharnum, Palmerstown, and whither else my Fancy leads me.

And sometimes I went to the Dublin Bowling∣Green (perhaps the finest in Europe) either to di∣vert my self by Playing, or look on those that did; where I have seen the Gentlemen screwing their Bo∣dies in•• o more Antick Postures than Prote••s ever knew; as if they thought the Bowl wou'd run that way they screw'd their Bodies; and many times wou'd curse it when it did not. And while I thus look'd on, I cou'd not but reflect how like the Iack is to the World, which most men covet with the greatest Earnestness, but very few obtain. And when sometimes I saw a Bowl (play'd by a skilful hand) lye very near her, it has in one small Mo∣ment, by the unlucky knock of a succeeding Bowl, lain at the greatest distance from it; and others have in the s••me instance, been laid by the Jack, that never thought of it: just so 'tis with the things of the World; some that with Toil and Industry have gotten an Estate, by one or other unforeseen Disaster, have in a Moment lost it all; when some perhaps that never expected it, by the same Acci∣dent that quite undid the other, were made Rich. So sickle are Riches, which as the Wise Man tells us, Make* 1.12 them∣selves Wings, and fly away.

At other times, I have gone further off, and vi∣sited some of the Irish Cities; and the first I rambled to, was Kilkenny, where I was introduc'd to the Acquaintance of my worthy and ingenious Friend,

Dr. Wood, by the following Letter, written by an Eminent Person in Dublin, and which I'll insert here, not out of vain Glory, (for the Praises he gives me, shews that his Love had blinded his Iudg∣ment) but that your Ladyship might the better see (by that Inquisitive Temper which he found in me) what variety you are like to have in my Summer Ramble.

The Letter I deliverd to Dr. Wood (from my Friend in Dublin) was this following, viz.

Dear Doctor,

THE Bearer hereof, Mr. Dunton, is my Friend, (and as such you will look upon him, as a very good and honest Gentlem••n) he goes to your Town to look about him, and see the place for some days; I pray oblige me so far as to let him have your Assistance to see the Castle, and such other things as his Curiosity leads him to, for he is an inquisitive Person, and a Man not un••it for Travel: All the Favours you do him, shall be thankfully acknowledg'd as done to

Dublin, Septemb. 12. 1698.

Your Humble Servant, &c.

This Letter had that Effect, that Dr. Wood and his Lady gave me a hearty Welcome, and after∣wards brought me into the Company of several Gentlemen of Worth and Quality. I came to Kil∣kenny on Friday Night; and the next Morning the Doctor carried me to view the Castle, (the noble Seat of the Duke of Ormond) of which I shall give a most particular Account in my Sum∣mer Ramble. And indeed the Alcove Chamber and Dutchesses Closet, &c. will deserve a large Descrip∣tion; but leaving these Noble Apartments, I shall

next proceed to tell your Ladyship, That adjoyn∣ing to these Lodgings is a great Window, that gave us a view of a Private Garden of Pleasure, I think finer than the Privy-Garden in White-hall, or any Walk I had ever seen: Being hugely pleased with this pleasant Prospect, the Doctor had me up one pair of Stairs, where on the left hand was the Room where the Duke of Ormond Dines; 'twas high Roof d, very large, and hung all round with Gilded Leather; the Table-Cloth was laying as we enterd the Room; and I do think the curious foldings of the Damask Napkins, and pretty Nick Nacks that adorn'd the Table (had I time) were worth a particular Description; and the Plate for the Dinner was not less remarkable; there were Three Silver Tankards embellish'd with curious Figures, and so very large, that I believe, wou'd his Grace have given me one of 'em, I cou'd scarce have dragg'd it to my Lodging; there were two Silver Salvers, as large and noble, and a Voider made of Silver, big enough to contain all, as I perceiv'd it did. Leaving this Noble Dineing-room, (for what's Dinner or Plate either, to a Man that has no right to't) we ascended two pair of Stairs, which brought us into a Noble Gallery, which, for length, variety of gilded Chairs, and the curious Pictures that adorn it, has no equal in the Three Kingdoms, and perhaps not in Europe; so that this Castle may properly be called the Elisium of Ireland: And were not the Duke and Dutchess bet∣ter principled than to forget Heaven for the sake of a perishing Glory, they'd little think of Mansi∣ons heteafter, who have such a Paradise at present to live in. But to return to the Description of this Noble Gallery: The first thing I saw remarkable in it (and indeed the Top-Glory of all the rest) was the Picture of the Dutchess of Ormond; the Face was finish'd, but the other parts wanted more of the Painter's Art; but I must say that of her Grace's Picture, that were all the Beauties in the World lost, it might be found again in this Painted Face; tho' that too, is as much out-done by theOrigi∣nal,

as a real Flame exceeds that of a painted one. There is also a design of drawing the Dukes ••icture, and when both are finish'd, Dr. Wood told me they are design'd to adorn the Th••lsel (a sort of Ex∣change;) to which will be added the Pictures of all those that have been Mayors of Kilkenny. The next Picture I saw remark 〈◊〉〈◊〉, was the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Straf∣ford, frowning (like a meer Nero) on the Mes∣senge•• that brought him ill News from the Parlia∣ment. By him hung the Dutchess of Modena's Pi∣cture (late Queen of England;) and next to her stands the late King Iames, drawn like a Man afrighted; so that I told the Doctor, I judg'd the Painter design'd to draw him just as he look'd when he fled from the Boyn. Near King Iames's Picture hangs the Picture of an old Vsurer, telling Money, and a Iew by him, which (considering the Moral of it) is pretty enough to behold.

Here is also the Picture of that chaste Prince, Charles 1. who (if you'll take his word on the Scaf∣fold) ne'er straid from his Queen, in Thought, Word, or Deed; and next to him (if I don't mistake) hangs H—that lustful Queen: Here is also the Picture of Charles the Second, that Royal Libertine; but the Queen Dowager I did not see. There were great variety of other Pictures, but I reserve the rest for my Summer Ramble. But (Madam) I can't forbear telling ye at present, That at the West end of the Gallery, stood the several Ages of Man, perhaps the finest draught that the World has seen. On the left side of the Room hangs the Picture of Vandike, as drawn by himself; (and a curious thing it is) and a little below him is a Scotch Lord, drawn in that Garb he hunts, or goes to visit the Clanns. And I must not forget to tell ye, that on the South side of the Gallery, hangs two Royal Buds, Charles the Second, drawn when he was four years old; (Ah Charles! What Innocence didst thou out-live?) and Iames the Second, in hanging-sleeves; and it had been well for England, and himself too, if he had put off his Body with his little Coat, and so ex∣chang'd one Heaven for another. I shou'd next pro∣ceed

to describe the Pictures of the Duke of Or∣mond's Family, for in this Gallery, and in Dunmors House, (which I'll describe in my Summer Ramble) hang all the Progenitors of this Noble Duke; but to mention these in that manner I ought, wou'd require an Age. So (Madam) I must lead you out of the Gallery (tho' with a sad Heart, to leave such a pleasant Place) and next describe the Bowling-Green adjoyning to this Princely Seat; 'tis an exact Square, and fine enough for a Duke to bowl on; nay, Church and State were here at Rub, rub, rub, and a good cast; for when the Dr. and I come to the Green, the Duke was then ftinging the first Bowl; next troul'd the Bishop of—Collonel R—with about four inferior Clergy; at paying our Bows to the Duke, he gave us the honour of his Hat in a very obliging manner; and here I'd attempt his Grace's Character, had not the Inge∣nious Cibbers* 2.1 done it before me; but I may venture to add to what he has said in the Duke's Praise, That the most he has said of him, is the least of what he merits; for the Duke is a Man of a truly brave and noble Spirit, and lives in the World like one that is much above it,

After making our Devoirs to the Duke, the Dr. and I left the Bowling-Green, and went next to see the Garden adjoyning to the Castle, which (tho' gone to decay) is now repairing by a young Gardener from England, and will in few years be as pleasant as the Spring-Garden near Fox-hall. Having seen what Rarities the Castle, Garden, and Town afforded, the Dr. and I parted o'er a Glas of••laret; and in the Afternoon, I rambled to Dunmore (another Seat of the Duke of Ormond's) and is the finest House in Ireland: On some of the Floors of this House, I told Twenty Four Rooms; the Stair-case that leads to 'em, is hung with curious Landskips, and is so very large, that Twenty Men might walk abreast; had the House but another Branch, it wou'd be a perfect H. but without this additional Beauty, per∣haps

it may boast of more Rooms than are to be found in some whole Towns: Leaving this Noble Seat, (after Peggy Corkran had shew'd me all the Ra∣rities in it) I return'd that Night to Kilkenny; and from thence, the following Monday, took a New Ramble to view the Boyn, and the antient Town of Droheda; and whither I went afterwards, you shall know in my Summer Ramble. But Madam, I ask your Pardon, for I was going to leave Kilken∣ny before I had told ye of the chief Raritie•• said to be in it; which are, that in this Town there is

Fire without Smoke, Water without Mud, Air without Fogg.

I search'd into this Report, and found it a real Truth; and that the Fourth Element, of Earth, was also as pure.

I wou'd here describe the Town of Kilkenny, and give a particular Character of Mr. Mukins, the pre∣sent Mayor, of Mr. Philips, the Mayor Elect, the Re∣corder, Aldermen, and Common Council-men, and se∣veral other remarkable things and Persons in this Place: I wou'd also mention the odd Adventure of a Lieutenant that travelled with me to Kilkenny; neither wou'd I omit to give you the heads of a remarkable Sermon I heard in St. Kenny Church, where an Eminent Prelate told us, That look into all Divisions of Religion, as those of Rome and Gene∣va, &c. and you'll find (as they are against Monar∣chy) that they have left the good Manners to the poor Church of England. Madam, I humbly conceive this Passage will deserve Remarks (by a better Pen than mine) as will several other not able strokes this good Bishop entertain'd his Auditory with; but tho' they are noted down in my Iournal, yet I reserve the rest for my Summer Ramble, lest they make my Letter too voluminous.

So (Madam) at present I take my leave of Kilken∣ny, with only telling ye that Morning I left it, Dr. Wood writ an Answer to the Letter I brought

him from my Dublin Friend, which I'll insert here, as it further shews how Courteous the Dr. is to Stran∣gers, and to me in particular.

The Doctor's Answer to the Letter I brought him from Dublin.

Dear Sir,

I Receiv'd yours by Mr. Dunton, whose stay here is so short, that I have not been able to shew him what Civility I wou'd, especially being every day hurry'd with Country Business? I hope to step to Dublin in a little time, and to have the opportunity of drinking a Glass of Wine with you and him; mean while a Letter now and then wou'd be acceptable to me, when your leisure will permit. I wish you all Happiness, and am,

SIR,

Your Affectionate Servant, NATH. WOOD.

And so good Doctor (with Thanks for all your Favours) I bid you and your Ingenious Lady, Farewell.

Thus (Madam) you see, by taking notice of Ca∣stles, Gardens, Antiquities, Pictures, Publick Fa∣bricks, the Rarities in Nature, and the Civility I meet in my generous Friends, that (where e're I go) I still learn somewhat worthy of my Know∣ledge; neither do I in such Rambles omit any thing that may instruct or delight me; and am much pleased with beholding the Beauty and Scituation of Places. Neither did I (in this Country Ramble) meet with any Allay to my Pleasures by the dulness

or decay of my Senses, for I found them all in their perfect Vigor; besides, I found Travelling got me a Stomach, which made me eat even courser fare with a better Appetite, tho' I saw little of that here, for the Kilkenny Claret is the best in Ireland; and the Doctor's Treats were still rich and noble.

Madam, having said so much of Dr. Wood's Ci∣vilities to me, perhaps you'll expect I shou'd send you the Doctor's Character; which I'll do, and his Ladies too, that you may see how happy I was in their Conversation;

Dr. Wood, like Luke the Evangelist,* 3.1 is the beloved Physician in these Parts; and he really Merits that great Respect which the People give him; he's a compleat Gentleman; very kind to Strangers, and obliging to the last degree; and I do think (if I may believe my Eyes) He's the happiest Man (except my self) that ever entred into a married State. Madam, I own a kind Wife often makes an obliging Husband of one that wou'd otherwise be very indifferent; but this is not the Doctor's case; for he's a Man of that sweet Temper, that the worst of Wives wou'd be kind to him; but he has met with one of the best; Then how happy is this Couple, that seem to rival one another in Kindness?

This, Madam, will raise your Cu∣riosity to know a little more of his Lady, but I dare not attempt her Character; but this I'll say,

* 3.2 She looketh well to the ways of her Houshold, and speaks not a foolish word; and her Thoughts are so new, so particular, that they rais'd my wonder to a great height. In the several Visits I made the Doctor (of which more in my Summer Ramble) I cou'd scarce speak for admiring at every thing she said or did. I'm sure, Madam, if you did but know her, you'd love Ireland (tho' 'tis a course Place) purely for her sake.

But, Madam, the Coach stays for me; so having left the Doctor and his good Lady, suppose me now on the Road for Dublin; and in my return thither, I was blest with extra∣ordinary Company; they were these following, viz.

a French Brigadeer, who gave largely to all the Poo•• on the Road, and I think had the Soul of an Emperor; for he treated all the way from Kilkenny to Dublin; and had he spoke a Language we had understood. I doubt not but our Minds had far'd as well as our Bodies.

I.

Sure there's some wondrous Joy in doing good; Immortal Joy! that suffers no allay from fears, Nor dreads the Tyranny of Years: By none but its Possessors to be understood; Else where's the Gain in being great? Kings would indeed be Victims of the State; What can the Poets humble Praise What can the Poets humble Bays (We Poets oft our Bays allow Transplanted to the Hero's Brow,) Add to the Victor's Happiness? What do the Scepter, Crown, and Ball, Rattles for infant Royalty to play withall, But serve to adorn the Baby-dress Of one poor Coronation day, To make the Pageant gay: A three hours scene of empty Pride, And then the ••oys are thrown aside.

II.

But the delight of doing good, Is fixt like fate among the Stars, And deify'd in Verse; 'Tis the best Gem in Roya••ty; The great distinguisher of Blood; Parent of Valour, and of Fame, Which makes a God-head of a Name, And is Cotemporary to Eternity. This made the antient Romans to afford To Valour, and to Vertue, the same word; To shew, the Paths of both must be together trod, Before the Hero can commence a God.

Madam, having dedicated this Poem to the Me∣mory of this great and generous Man (whose Boun∣ty we liv'd upon) I proceed to acquaint ye, we had also in Company, a French Major, a Gentle∣man of good Sense, but a little passionate.

Our third Companion was Iohny Ferguson, a very pleasant Fellow, and one that did great Feats at the Boyn. These three (with my self) were all the Men that were in the Coach; but we were not without a She-Companion, I mean the vertuous Mrs. Hawksworth, who may pass for a Wit; and if ever I go to Constantinople, it shall be on pur∣pose to visit her Ingenious Son; and I must say, if he takes after his Mother, he'll scarce meet his Fel∣low, tho' he shou'd girdle the World.

The Time in such Company flew too fast, and I be∣gan to wish the way to Dublin had been much longer. In our way home, we had debates con∣cerning the Spider's Webb, The curious work in a Turtles Nest, The Government of Bees, The love of a Spaniel-Dog to his Master, and upon other Subjects; but I wave them here, designing all our Disputes in the Coach shall be part of my Summer Ram∣ble.

I was no sooner come home, and had given some necessary Orders about my Auction, but I rambled to Drogheda, and paid a Visit to the famous Boyn, so memorable for the Victory King VVilliam there ob∣tained over the Irish, tho' they were Five to One; and that nothing might 'scape my View, that was worth seeing in Drogheda, Mr. VVilde sent (by me) the following Letter.

To Mr. Iames Iackson, Son to Al∣derman Iackson in Drogheda.

Mr. Jackson,

MR. Dunton being willing to see your Famous Town, and the River Boyn, where King Wil∣liam passed over, I desire you will help him to an Horse, and either go with him your self, or prevail with some Friend of yours to go, that knows Mat∣ters and Things; I wou'd al∣so have him go into a* 4.1 Cur∣rough, that he may carry his Boat on his Arm afterwards, I am,

Your Humble Servant, Richard Wilde.

That Morning I rid to Drogheda, the Air was sweet and kind, the Fields were Trim and Neat, the Sun benign and cherishing, and from ev'ry thing I met, I receiv'd a Civility; and which added still to my Hap∣piness, I went in Company with the Minister of the Newry:

He's a Divine of great Learning and Worth, speaks admirably, and inspired a Soul in∣to all our Company;

and in my Summer Ramble I'll attempt his Character at large. He treated me that Night with a noble Supper; not for any thing he found in me, but (as he express'd it) for the sake

of my being the Son of a Clergy-man: When I had taken leave of this Generous Parson, I went to lodge with one Mr. Watson, an Apothecary in Drogheda; I was hugely pleas'd with my new Quarters, for my Landlady (tho' a Roman Catholick) was a very ob∣liging, generous Woman; and for Mr. Watson, I don't think there's an honester Man in Drogheda; I found him excellent Company, and a very ingeni∣ous Man:

His Wit is ductile and pliable to all In∣ventions (as well as to that of the Glister-pipe) from a Pin to a Pillar, nothing was so small but his Skill cou'd work; nothing so great, but his Industry cou'd Atchieve:

After I had convers'd a while with my new Landlord, I went to Alderman Iackson's to deliver Mr. Wild's Letter; before I came to Drogheda, Mr. Wild told me what a courte∣ous Person Mr. Iackson was; and when I came to his Father's House,

He receiv'd me in such an obliging Manner, that his Favours did transcend Report, as much as they exceeded my Desert. Madam, this Gentleman resolves to live a Batche∣lor, which I cou'd not but wonder at; for doubt∣less Nature meant him a Conqueror over all hearts, when she gave him such Sense, and such Beauty: (for he's a very handsome Man:) His Wit sparkles as well as his Eyes; and his Discourse charms as well as his Beauty; and I found by a little talking with him, that his Mind is none of those narrow ones, who know one thing, and are ignorant of a thousand; but on the contrary, it is so very large, that altho' it cannot be said Iackson knew euery thing equally well, yet it is most certain, he can give an excellent Account of all things; but tho' his Soul is enrich'd with every Vertue, yet I thought the most remarkable thing in him, was his great Humility, and readiness to serve a Stran∣ger (for I might pass as such, having never seen him, but a minute or two in London.)

Madam, meeting with such a Friend as this, you may well think I cou'd never enough enjoy him; so leaving his Father's House, we went together to a Place in Drogheda, where we fell into Company with

several Gentlemen, and particularly with Mr. Single∣ton.

He's a young Sprigg of Divi∣nity, and might have stay'd at * 4.2 Jericho till his Beard was grown;

but when he speaks, 'tis off hand (as they call it here) so that Nature seems to have made a Present to him, of whatever a long Study and Meditation gives out by degrees to others: He preach'd in Drogheda Church up∣on this Text. And(a) 4.3 Jacob was a plain Man, dwelling in Tents; and I think 'twas the most ingenious Sermon I ever heard. But my Design here is only to hint at things; so I leave this young Divine, that I may come to acknowledge the generous Treatment I met in Drogheda, from Mr. Kelsey (for I don't forget the Token he sent by me to his Friend, Sir Thomas Montgomery.) This Gentleman has a great deal of Wit, and (which is rare in witty Peo∣ple) is Mast••r over himself; walks according to the Rules of Vertue, as the hours pass by the degrees of the Sun; and being made of good humor, his Life is a perpetual Harmony; and by consequence is a great Blessing to his Wife and Children, if he has any. After Mr. Kelsey had given me a particu∣lar Relation of the Boyn Fight, and we had drank a Health to his Friend in England, Mr. Iackson car∣ry'd me to visit the famous Walker (the ingenious Translater of Epictetus.)

He's an universal Scholar; and I do believe, were all the Learning in Ireland lost, it might be found again in this worthy Person; and he's as Pious as he's Learned: He prefers Con∣science before Riches, Vertue above Honour; he de∣sireth not to be Great, but to do good; and is so very exact in all he says, that his words are De∣crees of Wisdom.

When we came to this Gentle∣man's House, his Scholars were acting Henry IV. and a Latin Play out of Terence; they were all Inge∣nious Lads, and perform'd their parts to a wonder; but one Ellwood (who acted Falstaffe) bore away the Bell from the whole School. But Thieves! Thieves! (but no wonder, for I'm still in Ireland)

for I had no sooner left Mr. Walker's School, but I lost my Cane, and a Silver Box. But (Madam) as Thievish as Drogheda is, I can't but think with pleasure of Ireland, as 'twas there I had the honour to be first known to your Ladyship. But more particular∣ly I love Drogheda; where, for two days, the Tears I shed for the matchless D—ne, wou'd not suffer me to walk abroad. Madam, 'twas here your Ad∣vice was so very seasonable, and went so far towards drying up all my Tears. But tho' I've reason to love Drogheda, as 'twas the Town where I grīev'd so much for D—ne; and as 'twas here I was blest with your kind Correction for my weeping more than became me; yet after all, Drogheda is a Thievish Place; and had I but stay'd a Week in it (as I cou'd scarce forbear, Iackson, and Kelsy were so ob∣liging) I had surely been reduc'd to Primitive In∣nocence; so I left Drogheda in a sort of fright, after I had seen the Mayor (who is so clear in his Trust, that his Vertues shine to Dublin, and from thence to London) the Aldermen, the Primates House, and the Mount that gave me a sight of the Boyn, that fatal place to the Popish Army. So Dear Iackson farewell, till I see thee again in London; where thou shalt be (tho•• not so nobly treated, yet) as wel∣come to me, as I was to you in Drogheda. And (Madam) the Truth is, he that confers on me Fa∣vours so generously as Mr. Iackson did, steals me from my self, and in one and the same Act, makes me his Vassal, and himself my King. When I receive a Fa∣vour from any Man, till I have repaid it, my Mind (as Feltham says) is a Prisoner; and till a Ransom be paid by a like return, I'm kept in Fetters, and con∣strain'd to love, to serve, and to be ready, as the Con∣queror desires it.

Madam, I stay'd but three days in Drogheda, and am now return'd to Dublin, where I hear from England the sad News of the death of my Owl ('tis the Bird of Athens) and has been peering for Mice in my House and Garden for three years; so out of meer love to this old Servant, I fell to write an Es∣say in Praise of an Owl, and have spent about twenty

sheets in telling the Vertues of poor Madge. A Learned Author writ in Praise of Barrenness; the Great Erasmus writ in Praise of Folly, and a late Writer has wasted a great deal of Paper in Praise of a Cows-Tail; and I cou'd not see why I might not follow such Examples, and endeavour to Praise my Owl. I confess Madam, this Subject is not grave enough for your perusal; or if it was, I'd write an Elegy on poor Madge, and send that and his Character for your Reflections; but this is a hint by the by, nei∣ther will I presume to be thus merry without your leave. But (Madam) I had scarce finish'd my Owls Character (which wou'd take up a Month to tran∣scribe fair) but my old rambling Maggot began to crawl, and bite afresh; upon which I immediately grew as fickle and wavering, as if I had drank Li∣quor distill'd from a Womans Brains; and nothing wou'd satisfie me now, till I was on another Ram∣ble; and the next I took was to Ballimany, to see the Curragh, and the running for the King's Plate. Madam, by this speedy Rambling again, you see the toyl of keeping Accounts, was a Labour too tedi∣ous for my Mercurial Brains.

Being now resolv'd for a new Adventure, on Tues∣day, September 11. I took a Coach to one Gents, a Mile out of Town, where my Horse waited for me; and here my Stars threw me upon good Company; (one of which they call'd Climene;) we set out for Ballimany with the early Sun, yet we had his Com∣pany but a little while; for just as we had his Com∣pany but a little while; for just as we got to the Fox and Geese ('tis a House your Ladyship has heard me speak of) he withdrew into an Apartment behind a Cloud, so that the day now grew very un∣pleasant; but our Company was so agreeable, that bad Weather was little minded.

As soon as we had left the Fox and Geese, Clime∣ne gave us a pleasant Account of the silly raving of a certain Female, whose Character expect in my Summer Ramble: This Relation occasion'd a Confe∣rence about scolding Wives, and Dueking-stools, which lasted till we came to Racool, where we treated Climene with a Bottle of Cyder (for we all

thought a Pot in our Pate was a Mile in our way;) having refreshed our selves in this little Town, on we rambled for Ballimany, diverting our selves on the Road with what we had seen and heard in Dub∣lin; and at last we fell to discourse of Innocence, and the great Chastity of the brave Lucretia; we had no sooner entered on this Discourse, but a sure Em∣blem of Chastity (an old man of forescore) limps out of his little House (which I'm sure he might carry on his Back) to begg our Charity; not (Ma∣dam) but we had Charity, but having no Pence about us, we dismiss'd this venerable Beggar with a promise of being kind as we came back.

The next Spectacle we were entertain'd with, was the Sign of a Church; I call it so, for 'twas only a Steeple standing like a May-pole, without any Prop, but a tall Pillar, and which to us (at a great dist∣ance) seemed little bigger than the Spire it sup∣ported; we cou'd not but wonder at the humor of these People, that they shou'd fancy only a Steeple without the necessary Appartenance of Vestry, Pul∣pit, or Chancel? but the next Person we met, told us, 'twas not the fault of the Parish, but plainly the Devils Malice to the Preaching of God's Word; for as fast as the Building went on by day, the De∣vil carry'd it away by night. I then asked, Why the Steeple had better luck than the other parts of the Church? To this he reply'd, that the Parish formerly had been very wicked; and that Heaven permitted the Steeple shou'd be left standing, to upbraid the Inhabitants. Madam, if what this Fellow said was true (for we thought it a piece of banter,) this Steeple is high enough to be a warning to the Neighbouring Villages.

Being hugely pleas'd with this Fellows Answer, we jogg'd on to the Naas; we had here staid for a Dinner, cou'd we ha' perswaded our selves to have lost the sight of a diverting Passage then in view; 'twas a brace of dear Ioys, that had tyed two loaded Horses to an old Hedge, whilst they formally un∣strip, and without Fear, or Wit, fall to lousing 'emselves; Climene, who cou'd be Witty when,

and on whom she pleas'd, bid 'em be careful that they did not over-stock the Ground.

I cou'd not but laugh at this lousi•• sight; but these being common in Ireland, we left the conside∣ration of this Adventure, to discourse of the Pro∣spects then in sight; for now, let us turn to the right, or the left hand, we had a charming View of the Country; not but a sight of Climene was beyond all we saw (for••she's a perfect Beauty;) yet (for variety sake) we wou'd now and then look about us.

Madam, being now come to the Lissee (which all pass that go to the Curragh,) that River was swell'd so high, that poor Leander (as one in our Company call'd himself) was forc'd to cross it with his* 4.4 Hero behind him. I don't know what Information Climene receiv'd from her Friend Leander, but she was pleas'd to tell me, she understood I had a mighty passion for my first Wife, and that she was a Person deserv'd it; she then enquir'd, Whether I lov'd any before her? I told her I did. She then asked, Who the Person was? I told her 'twas one Rachel—who was so very Beautiful, that a Venus might have been form'd out of her Person; and yet her Wit did far exceed her Beauty. Having said so much, Climene ask'd me a hundred Questions about Rachel; as, Whether she was Rich? What were her Parents? How we came to part? And whether I continued to love her after I Marry'd Eliza? I told her I did not; but cou'd not but own I took a mighty Pleasure in Rachel's Company before I knew Eliza (tho' after I knew her, I scarce loved any thing else;) and because Rachel admir'd Poetry, I made my Courtship to the Muses too, that I might be the more grateful to her; and, Madam (can ye believe it,) I had the good fortune to write some∣thing in Rachel's Praise, which met with a kind Reception; I first presented 'em to her (and she being tickl'd with my Commendations) shew'd 'em to her Scotch Friends, and others; for Clara now (for so I call'd her,) pretended to out-doe me

in Tenderness. But (Madam) these Poetick Essays had an effect different from what I intended; for I design'd by 'em, only to make my own Addresses to her the more acceptable; but she, by shewing 'em abroad, got the name of a Wit (and having ac∣quir'd a Reputation beyond what she had before,) began to value her self at a higher Rate, and to treat me with Disdain; I won't so blind with gazing on her Face, or charm'd so much with her Witty Letters, but I cou'd see with what Contempt she treated me; and seeing, cou'd not but resent it to that degree, that I thought it my Duty to humble her; and in order to it, I sent her the following Lines;

I.

Know Clara, since thou'rt grown so proud, 'Twas I that gave thee thy Renown; Thou'dst else in the forgotten Crowd Of Common Beauties liv'd unknown, Had not my Verse exhal'd thy Name, And impt it with the Plumes of Fame.

II.

That killing Power is none of Thine: I gave it to thy Voice, thy Eyes: Thy Sweets, thy Graces, all are mine; Thou art my Star, shin'st in my Skies: Then dart not from thy borrow'd Sphere, Lightning on him that plac'd thee there.

III.

Treat me then with Disdain no more, Lest what I made, I Vncreate; Let Fools thy Mystick Forms adore; I know thee in thy Mortal State: Wise Poets that wrapt Truth in Tales, Knew her themselves through all her Vails.

How Clara resented this Poem, I never ask'd, for her Pride had given me enough of her (Pride was never yet found in a noble Nature, or Humility in an unworthy Mind,) and so I left her; and I appeal to you, Madam, Whether I had not reason to slight her? As for Climene (my Fellow Traveller) she gave her Judgment in my Favour; and (Madam) I want to know whose part you'll take; fo•• this is the Wit I so often mention'd to D—ne; and 'tis your Judgment (alone) that can determine whe∣ther I did well or ill.

As we walked along, Leander wou'd now and then put in a word against Clara's Inconstancy; but Wells (another of our Fellow Travellers) cou'd not hear the Story without railing at the whole Sex; upon which Climene banter'd 'em both. This urg'd 'em again to ask Climene, How many whineing, Slaves she had murder'd her self (for she was very handsom, and very Witty) but (Madam) neither Climene, nor any of the Company, wou'd come to Confession.

In such Discourses as these, we pass'd away the melancholly day, 'till we came to Ballimany (our intended Quarters.) 'Tis a small Village of poor Ca∣bins, and an old Castle, of which there is abundance in Ireland, built, it is said, by the Danes, long be∣fore the coming of the English into it; they are square strong Buildings of Stone, with a small Door, and stone Stairs, and Windows like Spike∣holes, purposely for strength; for as the Danes en∣larged their Frontiers, they built these Castles on them as curbs to the Neighbouring Irish.

Madam, I have often had occasion in some of my Letters, to mention these Cabbins, or Huts, but now take the description of them;

They build them by putting two forked sticks of such length as they intend the height of the Building, and at such distance as they design its length; if they design it large, they place three or four such forks into the Ground, and on them they lay other long sticks, which are the ridge Timber; then they rais the Wall, which they make of Clay

and Straw temper'd with Water, and this they call Mudd; when the Wall is raised to a sufficient height, which perhaps is four foot, then they lay other small sticks, with one end on the ridge piece, and the other on the Wall; these they wattle with small hazels, and then cover them with straw, or course Grass, without any Chimneys; so that when the Fire is lighted, the smoak will come through the Thatch, so that you would think the Cabbin were on fire: Another sort of their Cabbins is made by laying one end of the stick upon the bank of a Ditch, and the other up∣on a little bit of a mudd Wall; and then, when 'tis wattled, they cover it with Heath-straw, or scraws of Earth; and into this miserable Place will half a dozen poor Creatures creep for shelter and Lodging; but their Beds are upon such a firm Foundation, that nothing but an Earthquake can move them: Instead of Feathers or Flocks, they they use Rushes or Straw, which serves them with∣out changing. Sheets they never provide, and to tell the naked Truth, unless they can purchase a poor Cadow, which is not often, they ligg toge∣ther like Adam and Eve before the Fall, not a Rag to cover them, but themselves; which may be one reason why they so multiply; each little Hut be∣ing full of Children. They seldom have any Par∣titions or several Rooms; but sleep in common with their Swine and Poultrey; and for second or third Story, you may look long enough e're you find any. But as the Building of Versailes are so very Magnificent, as not capable of such a description that may give a just Idea of them; so these, in the other extream, are so very wretch∣ed things, that perhaps the Pen of the noblest Architect wou'd be very defective in describing them. Behind one of their Cabbins lyes the Gar∣den, a piece of Ground sometimes of half an Acre, or an Acre, and in this is the Turf-stack, their Corn, perhaps two or three hundred sheaves of Oats, and as much Pease, the rest of the Ground is full of their dearly beloved Potatoes, and a

few Cabbages, which the solitary Calf of the Fami∣ly, that is here pent from its Dam, never suffers to come to Perfection.

Madam, I shou'd more ex∣actly have described their Dwellings or Cabbi••s, if I durst have adventured oft'ner into 'em; or cou'd have staid in 'em (for Lice and Smoak) when I was there.

But to proceed in my Rambles: Next Morning early, without regarding any Ceremony, we made our Visit to a Popish Father, who was just up, and wiping his Eyes; the Weather was very fair, and we stay'd at the door (which had a little green Field before it) until the Room within was swept to re∣ceive us; the Dew lay in pretty Spangles on the Grass, made by refraction of the Sun Beams: I had a mind to try the Father's Philosophy, and enquired what the Dew was? He told me, 'Twas a Wapor that fell up∣on the Ground in the Night Sheason, and that the Sun drawed it up again in the Day; but Climene told him it was an old and vulgar Notion, and ex∣ploded by the newest Philosophers, who were of Opinion, it might be either the m••isture which the Horses of the Sun shake from off their Mains, when they were put into his Chariot rising out of the Sea▪ or that it might be Thetis's Chamber-Maids had em∣ptied Phebus▪ Pot as soon as he was up; or lastly, and that more probably, it was the sweat of the Grass and Herbs condens'd by the cold of the Evening Air. Her Notions made us all laugh, and the Priest swore by St. Patrick's Hand, she was as Witty as she was Pretty; and put some other Complements on her, the best of which were much beneath what she truly deserves. The House was now ready, and the Maid came to call us in, where we broke our Fast, and prevailed with Father A—to accompany us to Kildare, where we were going to be Merry; his Palfrey was presently sadled, and we mounted; we soon came to the Curragh, so much••noised here.

It is a very large Plain, covered in most Places with Heath; it is said to be five and twenty Miles round; this is the New-Market of Ireland, where the Horse-Races are run, and also Hunting Matches made,

there being here great store of Hares, and more game for Hawking,

all which are carefully pre∣served: They have a Tradition (I fancy 'twas taken from the Story of Dido's purchasing so much Ground as she could surround with an Ox-hide, on which she built Carthage) That St. Bridget, the great Saint of Kildare, begg'd as much Land from one of the Irish Kings, for a common Pasture, as she could environ with her Frize Mantle; the Prince laugh'd at her, and bid her take it; she cut her Mantle into so many small shreds, as when tack'd together by their ends, surrounded all this Curragh or Downs.

Kildare is an ordinary Country-Town, not near so good as the Naas, though it gives a Name to the County, and is an Episcopal see, tho' but of small Revenues; and is now therefore united to the Deanry of Christ-Church, which is the King's Royal Chappel in Dublin, as the Bishoprick of Rochester is to the Deanry of Westminster in England. It has in it the Cathedral Church, with two or three Inns, and those very sorry ones; it has two Fairs yearly, and a weekly Market, and sends two Burgesses to the Parliament; yet after all, it is but a poor Place, not lying in any Road, and not having any Trade belonging to it; there are some shops with Hops, Iron, Salt, and Tobacco, and the Merchant not worth Forty Pound. This County gives the Title of Earl to one of the Family of the Fitzgeralds, formerly called Geraldines, who came over into Ireland among the first Adventurers in Henry the I••'s. Reig••; and is now the First Earl here, as Oxford is with you; here we din'd on a Dish of large Trouts, and with some Bottles of Wine, made our selves merry; when we took Horse our Landlord told us we must accept of a Dugh-a-Durras from him, which is a drink at the door; he had a Bottle of Brandy under his Arm, and a little wooden Cup, with which he presented each of us a Dram; from hence we went about two Miles backward towards the Kings Country, to view the Earl of Kildare's Chair; It is an old Castle built on the side of an

Hill, which over-looks all the Neighbouring Country I was told it was built by some of the Earls of Kil∣dare, as a Watch Tower, for which purpose it was very well plac'd.

From hence we had a lovely Prospect towards the North, of a noble Vale, part of which was cover'd with Corn, and part with Cattle, with some Woods; among which were seen some Houses of good bulk and shew, raising their Heads; beyond these were Hills, on which stood several great Houses, a fine River ran through the V••lley; on another side the greatest part of the Curragh lay open to our View, which indeed is a noble Plain.

After we had satisfied our Eyes with staring about, we steered our Course towards the Bogg of Allen; which, tho' it be the greatest in Ireland, yet never was so famous as in the last Rebellion, where the Rapparees (who are a loose undisciplin'd People) had their Rendezvous when they design'd any Mischief on the Country, to the number of five or six hun∣dred, and where they easily hid themselves when pursu'd; for as I am inform'd, this Bogg is near fifty Miles long, with many Woods in it, and some Islands of very good and profitable Land; as the Island of Allea, which they say is worth eight hun∣dred Pounds per Annum.

Madam, His Majesty, for Encouragement to breed large and serviceable Horses in this Kingdom, has been pleas'd to give an hundred Pounds per An∣num out of his Treasury here, to buy a Plate, which they run for at the Curragh in September; the Horses that run, are to carry twelve Stone each; and therefore there are several fine Horses kept here∣abouts for the Race, in Stables built on purpose. There is another Race yearly ran here, in March or April, for a Pla••e of an hundred Guinea's; which are advanced by the Subscription of several Gentle∣men, and the Course is four measur'd Miles.

Madam, on Thursday the 13th of September, was the day of the Race this Year for the King's-Plate. There was a vast concourse of People to see it, from all parts of the Kingdom. My Lord Galway (one

of the Lords Iustices) was present at the Race, and other Persons of great Quality. I met on the Cur∣ragh (where the Race was run) with my worthy Friend, Mr. Searl, whose Character you have in my Dublin Farewel, and several others that I knew in Dublin; after the Race was over, our Company rid to Ballimany; at this Village is a little thatch'd House, like one of our English Country Houses, built by the Earl of Meath, After we had seen all the Rooms in this Noble Man's thatcht House (which I design to describe in my Summer Ramble) we left Ballimany, and did'd that day at the Naas, and reach'd Dublin about nine in the Evening.

But (Madam) if the Predictions of Astrologers be true, such Men as I am, are very Mercurial Folks, I mean the Planet, not the Mineral: For (Madam) you that know me, will believe I never had any great occasion for it; I had not been long in Dublin before the Itch of Rambling broke out again upon me, though I once thought the Fatigue of my Curragh-Ramble would have abated the sharpness of it, as effectually as Brimstone and Butter does that in the Skin; but what's bread in the Bone, will never out of the Flesh; and I among the other Sons of Adam, am in a literal Sense born to great Travels; and some People are surely so much delighted with the Vari∣ety of change, that like other Epicureans, they will purchase the fancied Pleasure through thousands of Difficulties that attend the acquisition: Not imper∣tinent to this, is what I remember to have read in the celebrated Mr. Boyle, of one who was born blind, because of the adhesion of her Eye-lids; and her Parents living far in the Country, from any Physi∣cians or Surgeons, thought her Mallady incurable, until the time she was about Eighteen years old; when, being called to London about some business likely to require a long Attendance, he brought his blind Daughter, with the rest of his Family, to Town; where the Vnion of her Eyelids being sepa∣rated by a Surgeon's Lancet, she immediately per∣ceiv'd a thousand pleasing Objects; she beheld every Minute, new things with Admiration; and not sa∣tisfy'd

with seeing, as soon as she could conveni∣ently go abroad, she was every day on the Ramble, as if she intended to make up for the losses she suffer'd by her former darkness: and when she became ac∣quainted with the Objects of the Town, she begg'd leave to roam about the Country, not without Ex∣pressions of some Inclinations to satisfie her Eyes with a view of all the World could afford her. Of this Girls Humor my Landlord found me; for now (af∣ter I had setled the Affairs of my Auction) I tra∣velled East, West, North, and South; and (Madam) shou'd I tell ye what Irish Cities, Towns, and Villages I ••ext saw, I shou'd lead you such a Wild-goose Chase, I shou'd tire ye quite, but not my self, for I am never weary with traveling. But (as much as I love rambling) I have just now receiv'd a Letter from Valeria (crowded with desires to see me) which will shorten my Ramble, some thousand Miles. I'll see but Europe, Asia, Africa, America, or so, dat is all, and be in London by Plato's year; not but I'm a huge lover of Travels,

and wou'd gladly view the Globe Coelestial too (as I told the ingenious D—ne) before I return; I mean climb so high as to hang my Hat upon one horne of the Moon, and touch the North Pole with my Middle Finger.

But (seeing you admire I ramble thus) let me go down from the Moon a little, to tell your Ladyship, that had you but seen Italy, (and those other Countries I am bound to) you'd rather envy then pitty my rambling Fate.

Alas! Madam, to change my Bed, troubled not me, for I cou'd sleep contentedly in America, Ire∣land, Wales, &c. or in any place; for if I had the hardest Lodging, I cou'd dream of my Valeria with as much Satisfaction, as if I had been sleeping on a Bed of Down; and when I awake, I please my self with thinking that in a little time I shall see her again: And where-ever I ramble, I'm still con∣tent, for there's a wheel within a wheel, and nothing comes to pass by chance.

As to my very Auctions, if things went prospe∣rously: there, I look'd upon it as an effect of Divine

Favour, and return'd God the Praise; if otherwise, it put me on Examining my self, and humbling of my Soul before my Maker; and I look on all cross Accidents as Tryals of my Patience. And indeed, still upon self-Reflections, I rather wonderd that things went so well, than found my self concern'd they went no better.

When Patrick took my Auction Room over my Head, it was for him that I was troubled most; that he should deal so barbarously with one that never gave him any cause for't; I was well satisfy'd in my own Innocence, and thought I was concern'd to make the World so, by letting of 'em know the Truth 〈◊〉〈◊〉 things; and then to leave the issue to that Wise Providence that best knows how to order all things for his Glory and my Good.

You may suppose perhaps (Madam) there are no Beggars in Dublin, since I have all this while been so silent, and said nothing of Alms-giving; but as∣sure your self (Madam) to the contray; for to the best of my knowledge, I never saw them so thick any where else, in the whole course of my Life; and how to carry my self in respect to these Wretches, has been a matter which often disturb'd me; to give un∣to all, is impossible; for a Man then must be richer than Croesus; and not to give at all, is Vnchristian; but the main Difficulty lies in the right distribution▪ and to relieve those who are most necessitous; but who can know this? For I have heard Bishop Hall say (he that was Bishop of Oxford) that once walking through Moorfields, a Beggar follow'd him with great Importunities, and desir'd him for Christ's sake to give him something, for he was ready to starve; the Bishop (not thinking him a fit Object for Charity) told him, if he refus'd to give him any thing, he believ'd he'd Curse him; no, said the Beg∣gar, indeed Sir I won't; well then, said the Bi∣shop, I'll try thee for once; upon which the Beg∣gar fell a Cursing and Swearing at him like a very Devil.—Madam, when I meet with such vile Beggars as these, I serve 'em as the Bishop did; but I am (Madam) if I don't flatter my self, na∣turally

Compassionate, easily affected with the Mi∣series of other Men in any kind, but much more when I see old Age go a Begging; and 'tis such that have been the principal Objects of my Charity; and next to them, the Blind. I never conceive the Beggar-man the more necessitous, by being the more importunate and querilous; and of this sort no Man, I believe, has been attended with a much greater Train: Indeed I have heard your old Eleemo∣sinaries, who have been train'd up to the Trade from their younger years, (as I am satisfy'd many have been, both in England and Ireland) can, by long Experience, and constant Observation, readi∣ly distinguish, even in a Crowd of Men, a com∣passionate Face; and will single him out, as I may say, to be the Object of their Importunities. But after all, Madam, in matters of the distributions of Charity, the right hand is not to know what the left does.

And now, Madam, having given you some Ac∣count of my Conversation in Ireland (both in City and Country) and also given ye some HINTS of my several Rambles in it, and what I observed in 'em. Perhaps you may think by this time, I have seen enough of Ireland, to be able to give your La∣dyship some general Character of it: I confess, Ma∣dam, I am very bad at Descriptions, but a general Character of the Dear Ioys being what I formerly promised the ingenious D—ne, I shall now send it to you (her other self) and hope your Goodness will be as willing to pardon all my Mistakes in it, as hers wou'd ha' been, had she liv'd to have read what I here send ye. Then give me leave to tell ye in Rhime,

Off in the Seas, and downfall of the Skies, With Water compass'd round, a Nation lyes; Which on the utmost Western Ocean hurl'd, Fixes the Ne Plus ultra of the World. Water the Bowels of this Land does clog, Which the weak Sun converts into a Bogg.

The Sun, whose great and generous Influence Does Life and Warmth to ev'ry Place dispence, O'ercome by th' innate Venom of this Air, Can't draw it it but, but leaves the Poyson there; So true is what the Natives vainly boast, No Poysonous thing lives on the Irish Coast; Because their Air is with worse Poyson fill'd; So has a Toad been by a Spider kill'd.

Perhaps (Madam) you may think I am too Po∣etical, and may expect a more particular Account of the Country and People where my Conversation at present lies; so I shall now proceed to a Prose-Character of the Dear Ioys: And here I shall give ye a g••••••pse of the C••untry; or, as it were, a ge∣neral view of my Irish Rambles. And, as an Irishman is a living Iest, 'twill be merry and pleasant; but a little Mirth must be forgiven to a Traveller, who has little else to keep h••m alive.—Then to pro∣ceed to the Prose-Character of Poor Teague; and here I must first acquaint ye,

That the Gentleman who trip'd lately to Ireland, calls it the Watering-Pot of the Planets; and the French have named it, Le Pott de Chambre du Diable, the Devil's Piss-pot; seldom dry, but often running over, as if the Hea∣vens were a wounded Eye, perpetually weeping over it.

'Tis said there is but one good thing in Ireland, and that is, the Wind, as 'tis generally Westerly, and sits fair to carry one out of it; which makes good the old saying, 'Tis an ill Wind blows no good.

Some of their Chief Cities are tolerably good, but most of them more Populous than Rich (Dub∣lin excepted) for though they are thronged like Hives, yet being for the most part Thieves and Drones, they rather diminish than encrease their Stock; and were it not for the honest English, and Strangers amongst them, I am perswaded in process of time, they'd be all starv'd; so that of all the Places I have yet seen, give me Ireland to won∣der at; for my part, I think 'tis a sort of White Fryars at large, and Dublin the Mint to it; here's

nothing but Roguery; in every street you pass, you'll either meet with some high-way Taylor, or some Errant unsatisfy'd Pugg, that drinks nothing but wicked Sack. But at Dublin they have a Re∣corder, (who at present is Mr. Handcock)

who, besides the Reputation that he has for his Know∣ledge of the Laws, has also acquir'd that of a cou∣ragious and just Magistrate, impartially putting them in Execution against lewd and wicked Peo∣ple, without regard to any degree of Quality or Riches; Instances of which are frequently seen in his punishing Swearers with Two Shillings for each Oath, according to a New Act of Parliament; and setting insolvent Persons in the Stocks; and many of the stroling courteous Ladies of the Town have, by his Orders, been forc'd to expose their Lilly-white Skins down to the waste at a Carts tail; by which he is become, at once, the fear and hatred of the Lewd, and Love and Satisfaction of Sober Persons.

Both Church-men and Dissenters are joyn'd in this noble work of exposing Vice, and all little enough; for tho' Whores are whipt every Sessions, (I saw seven but yesterday capering before the Beadle) yet the Prostitutes here are such very Prostitutes, that I heard Mr. Y—say (an old Fornicator in this City) that tho' he had spent his Estate on a Whore in Dublin, that his Rival no sooner appeared, but she clung to the best Chap∣man. In this case (to use a Term in my Auction Catalogue) he that bids most is the Buyer; and if any difference arise, which the Gallants cannot decide, Miss lyes with both, rather then lose a Customer. So that you see Madam, such things as Chastity, Wit, and good Nature, are only heard of here; such Vertues as Temperance, Modesty, and strict Iustice, (which your Ladyship possesses in so high a degree) have the same Credit with the Beaus of Ireland, which the Travels of Mandevil find with us. I do not hereby design any thing of the true Gentry, or Nobility, amongst whom there are Persons of as great Valour as fair Estates, as good Literatur•• and Breeding, and as Eminent▪ Vertues, as in any of

the most Polite Countries. But really, Madam, if you go into the Country, (as far as Galway) they are as bad, if not ten times worse, then I relate 'em; for the Men here e'en steal into the World (lying hickle-de pickle-dey, they are half Bastards) and ever after Thieving is as natural to 'em as eating; and for this Reason there's scarce a Town without a Pillory in it; Bellimany has one or two; Carlow has two or three (I think the strongest I saw in Ireland) Kilkenny I think as many; 'twas here I lost my Ring, my Gloves, and my very Comb; and when I charge 'em with it, they cry, the Devil burn 'em, if they are Thieves; and swear by Chreest and Shaim Patrick, that they never saw it. Madam, I suppose you have heard of Irish Evidence? and I must say, a Carted Bawd is a Saint to 'em. I lay at Kilkenny but four Nights, but here is such a Den of Pick∣pockets, that I think the Thieves in Drogheda are Saints to 'em.

I saw in my Ramble to Kilkenny, that Inclosures are very rare amongst them; much of their Land is reserved for Grazing and Pasturage; and there, in∣deed, the Grass being very sweet, and holding a

constant verdure, it is (as a late Author observes) in many places so indented with Purling Brooks and Streams, that their Meadows look like a new Green-Carpet border'd or fringed with the purest Silver; yet Hay is a rarity amongst them, and would cost them more pains than they can well afford, towards the making of it; therefore they seldom or never trouble their Heads or Hands a∣bout it. And then for their Arrable Ground (as the same Author observes) it lies most commonly as much neglected and unmanured as the sandy Desarts of Arabia, or a ranting young Gallant's old Bed-rid Spouse.

Their Women generally are very little beholding to Nature for their Beauty, and less to Art; one may safely swear, they use no Painting, or such like Aux∣lliary Aids of Fucusses, being so averse to that kind of Curiosity; (tho' they have as much need thereof as any I ever yet beheld) that one would think

they never had their Faces wash'd in their whole Lives.

As to their mishapen Legs (as a witty Gentle∣man expressed it) I'll lay them aside, and next talk of their Courtships.

Amorous they are as Doves, but not altogether so chaste as Turtles, desiring as much to be billing, and very frequently bringing forth Twins. as the others hatch young ones by Pairs. There needs no great Ceremony or Courtship, for they generally yield at first Summons.

The Men, as Birds of the same Nest and Feather, differ only in the Sex, not in their good Humour and Conditions.

Bonny-Clabber and Mulahaan, alias sowre Milk, and Choak-Cheese, with a Dish of Potatoes boiled, is their general, Entertainment▪ to which add an Oa••∣cake, and it compleats their Bill of Fare, unless they intend to shew their excessive Prodigality, and tempt your Appetite with an Egg extraordi∣nary.

Thus Madam, have I given you a brief, but ge∣neral Character of Ireland, which I have intermixt with what I found by the Dear Ioys, and what I say of these, I send to you as the Character of the better sort of ••eagues; for as for the Wild Irish, What are they, but a Generation of Vermin? they have Impudence enough to louse in the High-way. I have seen six Men at it together, and a Mile farther, as many Women at the same sport; and what is yet more shameless, the Women were half naked. 'Tis true, in the Infant Age, when the Innocency of Men did not blush to shew all that Nature gave 'em (indeed because they did no more then that taught 'em) I shou'd not have wonder'd at such sights; but considering the Removes we are now from Adam, I cou'd not but blush for 'em. If you peep into forty Cabins (they are as spacious as our English Hogsties,a 4.5 but not so clean) you'll scarce find a Wo∣man with a Sm—k to her Back, or a Pettycoat can

touch her Knee; and of Ten Children (for they are full of Brats, for the reason I formerly hinted) not one has a shooe to his foot; and when one laughs at their Nakedness (as who can forbear that is flesh and blood) they cry, fye! fye! English Mon, you see nothing but what ish her own. And these Irish Pa∣rents are as proud as they are naked; and rather then dishonour (as they call it) their Sons with a Trade, they suffer 'em to beg for their daily bread; and for themselves, they are so lazy, that those of 'em that are not Thieves (and of that number is scarce one in a thousand) they live by the drudge∣ry of their poor Wives.

But however careless they be of the Living, they are mightily concerned for the Dead, having a Cu∣stom, of howling when they carry any one to Buri∣al; and screaming over their Graves, not like other Christians, but like People without Hope: and soon∣er than this shall be omitted, they do hire a whole Herd of these Crocodils to accompany the Corps; who with their counterfeit Tears and Sighs, and confused Clamour and Noise, do seem heartily to bemoan the departed Friend; though all this is with no more concern and reality, than an Actor on the Theatre for the feigned Death of his Dearest in a Tragedy. Instead of a Funeral Oration, they bawl out these or the like querulous Lamentations, O hone! O hone! Dear Ioy, why didst thou dye and leave us? Hadst thou not Pigs and a Potato Garden? Hadst thou not some Sheep and a Cow, Oat-cake, and good vsquebaugh to comfort thy Heart, and put Mirth upon thy Friends? Then, wherefore wouldst thou leave this good World, and thy poor Wife and Chil∣dren? O hone! O hone! with much more such stuff; to all which, Dear Ioy, lending but a deaf Ear, sleeps on till Doomesday; while home they go to Drink, and drown the present Sorrow; till the Me∣lancholly fit comes upon them afresh, and then they resort to the Grave, and bedew it again with Tears; repeating and howling their O hones with as much deep Sence and Sorrow as before.

They have many other extravagant Customs daily practised at their Weddings and Christnings; but I reserve these for my Summer Ramble▪ so I'll con∣clude their Character with only saying, They are a nest of disarm'd, lewd, lousie, lazy Rebels, that have a Will, tho' not the Power, to cut our Throats.

I shou'd next speak of their Priests (fit Shep∣herds for such Wolves) but you'l meet 'em often in my Malhide Ramble, with my Conferences with 'em; so I'll drop 'em here; but will send ye a further Account of my Summer Ramble by the next Post: For, Madam, my Mind is always with you, and my Dear Friends in England, tho' at present I am in the Country of Wrath and Vengeance; but my Ink is too clean for a further Description. Yet Madam, if you'd see the Picture of Poor Teague more at large, I'd refer you to a Book call'd, The Descrip∣tion of Ireland, that Ingenious Author being the Person I so often quote in this Character of the Dear Ioys. Thus (Madam) by what I ha'e said, you see what an excellent Country Ireland is for a young Traveller to be first season'd in; for let him but view it as much as I did, and I dare undertake he shall love all the rest of the World much better ever af∣ter, except Scotland and France; of which more when I get thither.

If you ask, Why I stay in such a vile Country? Why, Madam, he that's in a Boat with the Devil, must land where, and as soon as he can; however, I'll stay till you answer this; and then, Hoa! for Scotland, France, Italy, and next the Hellespont; (for my Geography is now rectified by my learned Friend;) and 'tis very likely the length of my Ram∣ble will exceed the size of my Hour-Glass: How∣ever,

—All may have, If they dare try a glorious Life or Grave.

Herb. Ch. Porch.

And (if I hear Valeria's well) I care not whether I meet the Sun at his Rising, or at his

goinga 4.6 down. All Places are alike distant from Heaven; and that a Man's Country where he can meet a Friend. Thus Ma∣dam, (when 'tis my Duty) you see I can ramble in earnest.

Madam, having now dispatch'd the Character of the Dear Ioys, and troubled you with a thousand other Impertinencies, (that I may still keep within the bounds of my Conversation) I'll proceed in the last place, to give you an account of the parting Vi∣sits I made when I left Ireland, and with those con∣clude this long and tedious Letter.

Madam, in these parting Visits, I had the Happi∣ness of being accompany'd by my two Friends, Mr. Wilde, and Mr. Larkin; I have already given you a brief Character of Mr. Larkin; and it would be unjust not to give you Mr. VVilde's, who has de∣serv'd so good a one from me, by his faithful mana∣ging my Auction.

Mr. VVilde (Madam) was born a Gentleman, being descended from an Ancient Family in Herefordshire, and brought up to learn∣ing till he was fit for the University; but his In∣clination leading him rather to a Trade, he was bound an Apprentice to George Sawbridge, Esq the greatest Bookseller that has been in England for many years, as may sufficiently appear by the Estate he left behind him; for (besides that he was Chosen Sheriff of London, and paid his Fine) he left behind him four Daughters, who had each of 'em for their Portions, Ten Thousand Pound apiece; and you may easily imagine, Madam, that serving a Master who drove so great a Trade, he cou'd not fail of understanding Books, without he was greatly wanting to himself: Which he was so far from being, that I need not make any scruple to a••••irm, That there are very few Booksellers in Eng∣land (if any) that understand Books better then Richard VVilde: Nor does his Diligence and Indu∣stry come short of his Knowledge; for he is inde∣fatigably Industrious in the dispatch of Business; of which his managing my Auction, is a sufficient

Proof: He far exceeded even my Expectation, and gave the Buyers too, such great Content, that had I not seen, I cou'd hardly have believ'd it. Nor does his Talent lie in knowing Books only, but he knows Men as well too; and has the Honour to be personally known to very many of the Nobility and Gentry of the first Rank, both in England and Ireland; and there's scarce a Bookseller in Dublin but has a Kindness for him. If any thing hates him, 'tis the Fair Sex, for his living so long a Bat∣chelor; but they might excuse him, for he's too busie to think of Love, and too honest to Marry for Money; and I believe scorns to creep (for 'tis be∣neath a Man to whine like a Dog in a Halter) to the greatest Fortune in Dublin; not but Wilde is of a courteous affable Nature, and very obliging to all he has to do withal; and 'tis visible by his Carriage, he was bred (as well as born) a Gentle∣man. He had a good Estate to begin the World with, but has met with Losses; yet when his Stars were the most unkind (as was confest in my hearing by his raving Enemy) he was still as ho∣nest as ever; and being always just in his Dealings, he now, like the Sun (just come from behind a Cloud) shines brighter and fairer then ever: Some Men are only Just whilst the World smiles; but when it frowns, they act such little Tricks, as ren∣ders their Vertue suspected. But VVilde ever pre∣serv'd his Integrity, and is the same good Man un∣der all Events; and as he was ever just in his Dealings, so I must say his Universal Knowledge in Books render him a fit Companion for the best Gentleman; and his great Sobriety, a fit Compa∣nion for the nicest Christian; and to add to his Reputation, Where••s a greater VVilliamite in the three Kingdoms, then Richard VVilde? Madam, he has done such Eminent Service to the present Government, that he can't in time but meet with an ample Reward; and 'tis but just to think he shou'd be prefer'd, for he's a true lover of his Majesty, and the present Government; and a stre∣nuous Asserter of the Rights and Liberties of the

People, and the Protestant Religion, in opposition to Popery and Slavery; and this he has been from his Youth; insomuch that for shewing his Zeal in these things, even while he was an Apprentice, the Tories and Iacobites (by way of derision) call'd him Protestant Dick. And by his Management of my Auction, he has given, both to my self and others, such a Specimen of his Iudgment, and great Fidelity, that the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Clogher has done him the Honour (in his Let∣ter to me) to tell me he is extreamly satisfy'da 4.7 in Mr. Wilde's Fidelity. I do assure you, Madam, I am so well satisfy'd in his Conduct herein, that were I to keep an Auction as far as Rome it self, Mr. Wilde should be the sole Manager. But tho Mr. VVilde really merits the Character I here give him, yet he being one whom I convers'd so much with in Dublin (which my Inclination wou'd have led me to, if my Business had not) he al∣so is one of St. Patrick's Kennel of Scoundrels; by which you may also know what to think of St. Pa∣trick, whose Characters run counter to the Senti∣ments of all honest Gentlemen. And yet even in this Patrick is true to himself, and hereby de∣clares he hates Honesty and Ingenuity, where-ever he finds it.

But Madam, I fear you will think me too long in my Character of Mr. Wilde; and I fear so too, with respect to your Ladyship; tho' as to himself, I have not yet done him that Iustice he deserves from me; and therefore must remain in his Debt, till I publish my Summer Ramble.

But I'll now proceed to the Account of my part∣ing Visits; the first of which, was rather an Invita∣tion, than a Visit; to the House of Dr. Phoenix, who invited my self and three of my Friends, to wit, Mr. Wilde, Mr. Larkin, and Mr. Price, to Din∣ner. He lives in that part of the City which is call'd St. Thomas Court; and is a peculiar Liberty belonging to the Earl of Meath: We found the

Doctor Discoursing with the Dean of Killalloo, who Din'd with us: At our first coming, the Doctor sa∣luted us all in a very obliging manner; but was pleas'd to pay me a most particular Respect, in re∣gard (as he express'd it)

that I had so much ob∣liged the Nation in general, and himself in parti∣cular, by bringing so large a Collection of valuable Books into the Kingdom.

After this first greeting, the Doctor had us into his Laboratory, and there shew'd us his Stills, and several great Curiosities. Before Dinner we had some Conversation with the Dean about the Power of Imagination; and the Dean told us he knew a Man at Barnet, near London, about Forty years ago, that profess'd to have a constant Converse with the Dead; affirming, that while he was discoursing with others, he was at the same time conversing with the Dead. This Man wou'd utter many strange Expressions of his Discourses with dead Peo∣ple, and pretended by this Converse, to tell things done at that Moment a vast distance off, which af∣terwards, upon Enquiry, prov'd true. But Dinner then coming up, put an end to our Conversation, and found us other Business to do, then to talk of melancholly People.

After Dinner, the Doctor's Lady told us this Remarkable Story: That some years since, having been deliver'd of a fine Girl, two Ladies that were then the Doctor's Patients, desir'd the Baptising of the Child might be deferr'd till they were able to go abroad, because they had a mind to stand Gossip•• to it. But the two Ladies not being well enough to go abroad, so soon as they thought at first, a Months time was passed since the Birth of the Child, all which time it remain'd unchristen'd. But one day, as the Doctor's Lady was in her Chamber, looking for something which she wanted in a Press, on a sudden she cast her Eyes back, and saw sitting down in a Chair, an Vnckle of hers, which had been dead several years; at which being somewhat sur∣priz'd, she a••k'd him how he did? And he, on the contrary, ask'd her, What was the reason she did not

christen the Child? She told him it was because her Husband promis'd two Ladies shou'd be Gossips to it, and they were both yet indispos'd, and cou'd not come. The Spectrum then call'd her to come to him, which she accordingly did, and he em∣brac'd her in his Arms, and kiss'd her naked Bosom, which she said she felt extream cold: He then ask'd, her where her Husband was? And she told him where. After which, he charg'd her to let the Child be christned the next day at three a Clock 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••he Afternoon; and then went away, she knew not how. When the Doctor came home, his Lady told him what she had seen, and desir'd the Child might be Christen'd, according to the Charge given by the Spectrum; but the Doctor was Unbelieving, and still resolv'd to defer it till the two Ladies could come to be Gossips. But the time prefix'd by the Spectrum being past, and the Child not Christen'd, that Night the Bed-Cloaths were attempted to be pull'd off, she crying out to the Doctor for help, who pull'd the Cloaths up with all his Strength, and had much ado to keep 'em on, his Wife in the mean time crying out grievously that somebody pinch'd her. And the next Morning, viewing of her Body, they found she was pinch'd black and blue in several places. This did not yet prevail with the Doctor, to have his Child Christen'd till the two Ladies cou'd come to be Gossips. But a day or two after, when the Doctor was again abroad, and his Lady alone in her Chamber, there appeared to her ano∣ther Spectrum in the likeness of her Aunt (who had been dead near 20 years before) with a Coffin in her hand, and a bloody Child in the Coffin, asking her in a threatning manner, Why the Child was not Christ∣ned? She reply'd (as she had done to her Unckle be∣fore) that her Husband delay'd it on the Account of two Gossips which could not yet come. Where∣to the Spectrum (with a stern Countenance) said, Let there be no more such idle Excuses, but Chri∣sten the Child to Morrow, or it shall be worse for you, and so disappear'd. The Lady all in Tears tells the Doctor of the Threatning of this She-Spectrum, and

prevails with him to have it Christned the next day; and in three days after, the Child was over-lay'd by the Nurse, and brought home in a Coffin all bloody, exactly like that which was shewn her by the last Spectrum. The Doctor confirm'd that part of the Story which related to him; and as to the Spectrums, his Lady aver'd before my self, Mr. Wild, a 4.8 Mr. Larkin, and Mr. Price, that what she related, was no∣thing but Truth. The Doctor (after the Story was ended) made this In∣ference from it, That the Baptizing of Infants was an Ordinance of God, or else it had not been so much in••ul••ated by two Persons or Spirits risen from the Dead. But my Friend Mr. Larkin reply'd to the Doctor, that he was of a quite contrary Opinion, and said it was a great Argument against Infant Bap∣tism, that the Devil was so earnest to have it done. And when they both referr'd the Matter to the Dean, he put it off, by saying. We had some Dis∣course before Dinner of the Power of Imagination, and this seems to be some of the Effects on't.

After this Discourse was ended, Dr. Phoenix caus'd a Robbin-red-breast (which he had in a Cage) to be brought into the Dining-room; where it enter∣tain'd us whilst at Dinner, with singing and talking many pleasant things; as sweet Lady, Is the Packet come? What News from England? and several such Expressions which the Doctor's Lady had taught it. The smalness of this Bird renders its talking the more remarkable; and perhaps Madam, this Robin-red-breast is one of the greatest Rarities in Ireland, if not in the whole World; and I believe Dr. Phoenix thinks so; for (as small as this Bird is) he told me he'd not sell it for 20 Guinea's; and I do think, were it sold to the worth of its pleasant Chat, 'twou'd yield a thousand.

After I had stay'd the utmost Limits that my Time would allow me, I took my leave of the Dean, and then returning the Doctor and his Lady

Thanks for their Kindness (both to my self and my Friends) we took our leave; the Doctor wishing me a boon Voyage to England, and a good Iourney to London. But the Doctor is a worthy Person, and I can't leave his House 〈◊〉〈◊〉 I have given Character of him; besides, his Civilities to 〈…〉〈…〉 so many and gr••••, that not to acknowledg•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 (in a just Character of him) wou'd be very 〈◊〉〈◊〉; for he was a great Encourager of my Auction, and a very generous Bidder. But to proceed to his Character,

Dr. Phoenix is a little Jolly black Man, but so very conscientious, that he's as ready to serve the Poor for nothing, as the Rich for Money. His great Skill in Physick has made him famous; and which renders him the more Eminent, his Prescriptions are generally successful, and his Aurum Potabile never fails. His wise Advice has rescu'd more languishing Patients from the Jaws of Death, then Quacks have sent to those dark Regions; and on that score Death declares himself a mortal Enemy to Dr. Phoenix; whereas Death claims a Relation to meer Pretenders to Physick, as being both of one Occupation, viz. That of killing Men. But tho his great Success makes Patients throng to him, yet is he a modest, humble, and very good Man, as appears by this; at his first coming to a sick Man, he perswades him to put his trust in God, the Fountain of Health. The want of such seriousness hath caus'd the bad success of many Physitians; for they that won't acknowledge God in their Applications, God won't acknowledge them in that Success which they might otherwise expect.

I wou'd be larger in the Doctor's Character, but af∣ter all, must come short of it; so will add no more about him, but shall now attempt his Ladys Cha∣racter, of whom I might say many pretty things; but (Madam) I fear I shall tire you; however, I say 'em all in little, by only telling your Ladyship, that the Person I'd here describe, is Doctor Phoenix's Wife, I say, Madam, 'tis Praise enough to say, she is Dr. Phoenix's Wife, and that she merits so good

a Husband. Then let the learned World debate as long as they please about the Nonsuch Bird, this La∣dy proves (by her great Vertues) that in Dublin (if no where else) is to be seen a She-Phoenix.

Leaving Dr. Phoenix's House, our next Visit was to the College of Dublin, where several worthy Gentle∣men (both Fellows and others) had been great Bene∣factors to my Auction: When we came to the Col∣lege, we went first to my Friend Mr. Young's Chamber; but he not being at home, we went to see the Library, which is over the Schollars Lodgings the length of one of the Quadrangles; and con∣tains a great many choice Books of great Value, particularly one, the largest I ever saw for breadth; 'twas an Herbal, containing the lively Portraictures of all sorts of Trees, Plants, Herbs, and Flowers: By this Herbal lay a small Book, containing about 64 Pages in a Sheet, to make it look like the Giant and the Dwarf. There also (since I have menti∣oned a Giant) we saw lying on a Table, the thigh∣bone of a Giant,) or at least, of some monstrous over-grown Man, for the Thigh-bone was as long as my Leg and Thigh; which is kept there as a convincing Demonstration of the vast bigness which some humane Bodies have in former times arriv'd to. We were next shew'd by Mr. Griffith, a Ma∣ster of Art (for he it was that shew'd us these Curio∣sities) the Skin of one Ridley, a notorious Tory, which had been long ago Executed; he had been begg'd for an Anatomy; and being flea'd, his Skin was tann'd, and stuff'd with Straw; in this passive state he was assaulted by some Mice and Rats, not sneakingly behind his Back, but boldly before his Face, which they so much further Mortified, even after Death, as to eat it up; which loss has since been supply'd by tanning the Face of one Geoghagan, a Bopish Priest, executed about six years ago, for stealing; which said Face is put in the place of Ridley's.

At the East End of this Library, on the right hand, is a Chamber called the Countess of Baths Library, filled with many handsome Folios, and

other Books, in Dutch Binding, guilt, with the Earls Arms imprest upon them; for he had been sometime of this House; on the left hand, oppo∣site to this Room, is another Chamber, in which I saw a great many Manuscripts, Medals, and other Curiosities.

At the West End of the Library, there is a Divisi∣on made by a kind of wooden-Latice-work, con∣taining about thirty p••ces, full of choice and curi∣ous Books, which was the Library of that great Man, Arch-bishop Vsher, Primate of Armagh, whose Learning, and Exemplary Piety has justly made him the Ornament not only of that College (of which he was the first Scholar that ever was enter'd in it, and the first who took degrees) but of the whole Hibernian Nation. At the upper end of this part of the Library, hangs at full length, the Pi∣cture of Dr. Chalon••r, who was the first Provost of the College, and a Person Eminent for Learning and Vertue. His Picture is likewise at the En∣trance into the Library; and his Body lies in a stately Tomb made of Alabaster. At the West end of the Chappel. Near Dr. Chaloner's Picture (if I don't mistake) hangs a new Skeleton of a Man, made up and given by Dr. Gwither, a Physitian of careful and happy Practice, of great Integrity, Learning, and sound Judgment, as may be seen by those Treatises of his, that are inserted in some late Phi∣losophical Transactions. Thus (Madam) have I gi∣ven ye a brief Account of the Library, which at present is but an ordinary Pile of Building, and can't be distinguish'd on the out-side; but I hear they design the building of a New Library: And I am told, the Hoose of Commons in Ireland have vo∣ted 3000 l. towards carrying it on.

After having seen the Library, we went to visit Mr. Minshul, (whose Father I knew in Chester)

Mr. Minshul has been Student in the College for some time, and is a very sober, ingenious Youth; and I do think is descended from one of the most courteous Men in Europe. (I mean Mr. Iohn Min∣shul, Bookseller in Chester.

) After a short stay

in this Gentleman's Chamber, we were led by one Theophilus, (a good natur'd sensible Fellow) to see the New-house, now building for the Provost; which when finish'd, will be very noble and mag∣nificent.

After this, Theophilus shew'd us the Gardens be∣longing to the College, which were very pleasant and entertaining. Here was a Sun-Dyal, on which might be seen what a Clock it was in most parts of the World. This Dyal was plac'd upon the top of a Stone, representing a Pile of Books. And not far from this was another Sun-Dyal set in Box, of a very large compass, the Gnomoh of it being very near as big as a Barber's Poll. Leaving this pleasant Garden, we ascended several steps, which brought us into a curious Walk, where we had a Prospect to the West of the City, and to the East of the Sea and Harbour▪ On the South we cou'd see the Mountains of Wicklow, and on the North, the River Liff••e, which runs by the side of the College. Ma∣dam, having now (and at other times) through∣ly survey'd the Colledge, I shall here attempt to give your Ladyship a very particular Account of it; tis call'd Trinity College, and is the sole University of Ireland; it consists of three Squares, the out∣ward being as large as both the inner▪ one of which, of modern building, has not Chambers on every side, the other has; on the South side of which stands the Library, the whole length of the Square. I shall say nothing of the Library here (having al∣ready said something of it) so I proceed to tell ye, Madam, tha•• the Hall and Butteries run the same range with the Library, and separates the two in∣ner squares; it is an old building, as also the Re∣gent••house which from a Gallery looks into the Chappel, which has been of late years enlarged, be∣ing before too little for the number of Scholars, which are now, with the Fellows, &c. reckoned about 340; they have a Garden for the Fellows, and another for th•• Provost, both neatly kept; as also a Bowling green, and large Parks for the Students to walk and exercise in. The Foundation consists of

a Provost (who at present is the Reverend Dr. Georg•• Brown, a Gentleman bred in this House since a Youth, when he was first enter'd, and one in whom they all count themselves very happy; for he's an Excellent Governour, and a Person of great Piety, Learning, and Moderation) seven Senior Fellows, of whom two are Doctors in Divinity; eight Iuni∣ors, to which one is lately added by—and se∣venty Scholars; their publick Commencements are at Shrovetide, and the first Tuesday after the eighth of Iuly. Their Chancellor is his Grace the Duke of Ormond; since the death of the Right Reverend the late Bishop of Meath, they have had no Vice-Chan∣cellor, only pro re nata. The University was founded by Queen Elizabeth, and by her and her Successors largely endowed, and many munificent Gifts and Legacies since made by several other well-disposed Persons; all whose Names, together with their Gifts, are read publickly in the Chappel every Tri∣nity Sunday in the Afternoon, as a grateful acknow∣ledgement to the Memory of their Benefactors; and on the 9th of Ianuary, 1693. (which com∣pleated a Century from the Foundation of the Col∣lege) they celebrated their first secular day, when the Provost,a 4.9 Dr. Ash, now Bishop of Clogher, Preach'd, and made a no∣table Entertainment for the Lords Justices, Privy Coun∣cil, Lord Mayor and Aldermen of Dublin. The Sermon Preached by the Provost, was on the Sub∣ject of the Foundation of the College, and his Text was, Mat. xxvi. xiii. Verily I say unto you, Whereso∣ever this Gospel shall be Preached in the whole World, there shall also this that this Woman hath done, be told for a Memorial of her; which in this Sermon the Provost apply'd to Queen Elizabeth, the Foundress of the College: The Sermon was Learned and In∣genious, and afterwards Printed by Mr. Ray, and dedicated to the Lords Justices, who at that time were, the Lord Henry Capel, Sir Cyril Wiche, and William Duncomb, Esq In the Afternoon, there

was several Orations in Latin spoke by the Scholar••, in Praise of Queen Elizabeth, and the succeeding Prin∣ces: And an Ode made by Mr. Tate (the Poet Laureat) who was bred up in this College. Part of the Ode was this following;

I.

Great Parent, hail! all hail to thee; Who hast the last Distress surviv'd, To see this Ioyful day arriv'd; The Muses second Jubilee.

II.

Another Century commencing, No decay in thee can trace, Time, with his own Law dispensing, Adds new Charms to every Grace, That adorn'd thy youthful Face.

III.

After Wars Alarms repeated, And a Circling Age compleated, Numerous off-spring thou do'st raise, Such as to Juverna's Praise, Shal•• Liffee make as proud a Name, As that o, Isis or of Cham.

IV.

Awful Matron, take thy Seat To celebrate this Festival; The Learn'd Assembly well to treat, Blest Eliza's Days Re call: The Wonders o•• her Reign Recount, In 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that Phoeous may surmount, Songs for P••oe••us to repeat. She twas that did at first inspire, And tune the mute Hibernian Lyre.

V.

Succeeding Princes next recite, With never dying Verse requite Those Favours they did show'r: 'Tis this alone can do ••em Right; To save 'em from Oblivion's Night, Is only in the Muses Power.

VI.

But chiefly recommend to Fame, MARIA, and Great WILLIAM's Name, Whose isle to Him her Freedom owes: And surely no Hibernian Muse Can her Restorers ••raise refuse, While Boyn and Shannon flowes.

After this Ode had been sung by the Principal Gentlemen of the Kingdom, there was a very diverting Speech made in English by th•• Terra Filius. The Night concluded with Illuminations, not only in the College, but in other Places. Ma∣dam▪ this day being to be observ'd but once in an hundred years, was the Reason why I troubl'd your Ladyship with this Account.

H••ving Re••arded Theophilus for his readiness to shew us the Gardens, & we took our leave of the College; and from thence I went (Mr. W••lde and Mr. ••arkin ••eing still with me) to take my leave of the Honourable Collonel Butler of St. Stephen' s Green, to whom I was greatly obliged, both as he was a great Encou••ager of my, Auction, and as I had all along his Countenance and Favour in it, espe∣cially when there was some Persons that had a mind to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and banter my Auction; but by this wor∣thy Gentlemans appearing against 'em, and resent∣ing the Affront as done to himself, they quickly cry'd Pecav••. Madam, it wou'd be too great Pre∣sumption in me to attempt this Gentleman's Cha∣racter, for I shou'd but dim the lustre of his bright∣er

Vertues, by all that I cou'd write. But the noble Favours I receiv'd from Collonel Butler, oblige me to a publick Acknowledgment; tho' all I can say of him, will be like losser Maps of the large world, (where every Prick sets down some ample Shire, and every Point's a City.)

His brave and generous Soul is so well known, that 'tis but wasting of time to tell it; then where can I begin, or where shall I end? Shou'd I s••eak of his Learning, I might c••ll him the Mec••enus oo I••eland; for the B••oks he buys do by their number sufficiently de∣clare his Love to Learning; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 by their Value and intrinsick Worth, the va••••ness of his Judg∣ment: Neither is he less remarkable for his affable Carriage, his sweet and obl••ging Disposition, his large Charity, his singular Humility, Iustice, Tem∣perance, and Moderation; and I do believe his no∣ble Attainments in the Art o•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 has no pa∣rallel in the Kingdom of Ireland. Madam, I wou'd proceed in the Collonels Charect••r▪ but I fear his Great Modesty will make ••im think I say too much, tho I am very sure all that know him will think I say too littl••

When we came to the Collonels House he receiv'd me (and my two Friends) in a most ••••••iging man∣ner; after our first Salutations, ••he had us ••••to his Dinning-room, hung round with curious P••∣ctures, all of his own drawing; some of which were King Edward the vith▪ the Lady Iane Gray, the two Charles's, King William and Queen Mary, with others which I now forgot: When we were all seated, the Collonel told me he took my coming to see him very kindly, and that if he came to London, he wou'd do himself the Honour of repaying my Visit. We next fell to discourse of the Auctions I made in Dub∣lin, and here the Collonel was pleas'd to say: I had been a great Benefactor to the Kingdom of Ire∣land, by bringing into it so large a quantity of good Books. I thank'd him for the Honour he did me by that Expression; and further added, that if all my Buyers, had been so generous as himself, my Venture had been very fortunate. This Discourse

about my Auction, naturally led us to talk of Pa∣trick Campbel (the grand Enemy to it) and after I had told the Collonel what Treatment I had from Campbel, he said I had just Reason to vindicate my self; and that he believed there never was a fairer Auction then mine, or a better Auctioneer then Mr. Wilde; and therefore, Madam, I dedicate the Dublin-Scuffle to Collonel Butler, as a generous Pro∣tector of an injur'd Stranger: Upon the taking my leave of the Collonel, he express'd himself very sorry that I was leaving the Country, and said, If ever I return'd with a second Venture, he wou'd Encourage it all he cou'd; for this I return'd him my humble Thanks, confessing my unworthiness of those many Favours I had receiv'd from him. Then taking my final leave, he gave me that endearing Salutation, which is the great Expression of kindness among the Gentlemen of Ireland; after this tender Favour, he honour'd me so far, as to s••y, he shou'd be wishing for Westerly Winds (for my sake) till he heard I was landed; and so with wishing (Mr. Larkin and my self) a good Voyage, we part∣ed well satis••y'd in the Honour done us by the no∣ble Collonel.

Madam, I told ye that Collonel Butler was very remarkable for his great Humility, and generous Temper; and you see by his obliging Expressions to Persons so much below him, how much he me∣rits that no••le Character of being humble; I call it so, as Pride lessens (or rather disgraces) Men of the highest Rank, as much or more then it does others; and therefore 'tis, tho' Collonel Butler is very emi∣nent for ev'ry Vertue, yet if he excells in one more then another, 'tis in his Great Humility; which further appears by his inviting me of••en to see him, and (if I may be so proud to use his own Expressi∣on) in being pleased with my Conve•• sation.

Having left the Collonel's House, we all three return'd to our several ••••dgings. In our way thi∣ther, we went to take our leaves of the Reverend Mr. Searl (at his House in Brides Alley) and of my worthy Friend Mr. Iones (as his House in great

Ship-street) but neither of 'em were at home; how∣ever, I had the happiness of seeing Mr. Iones's Sister (a Person Eminent for her great Piety) with whom I left a million of Thanks for all the Favours I re∣ceiv'd from him. And here I parted with my two Friends (Mr. VVild and Mr. Larkin) and the next day (it being the last for taking of Farewells) every one went as his Humor and Fancy led him. And the first Ramble I took this Morning, was to take my Farewell of Rings-End (where I had two or three good Friends) 'tis about a Mile from Dublin, and is a little Harbour like your Graves-End in England; I had very agreeable Company to Rings End, and was noblely treated at the Kings Head; after an hours stay in this dear Place (as all Port-Towns general∣ly are) I took my leave of Trench, VVelsted, and two or three more Friends, and now look'd towards Dublin; but how to come at it, we no more knew then the Fox at the Grapes; for though we saw a large strand, yet 'twas not to be walk'd over, be∣cause of a pretty rapid Stream, which must be crossed; we enquir'd for a Coach, and found no such thing was to be had here, unless by accident; but was inform'd that we might have a Rings-End Carr, which upon my desire was call'd, and we got upon it, not into it▪ It is a perfect Car with two VVheels, and towards the back of it, a seat is raised cross ways, long enough to hold three People; the Cushion we had was made of Patch-work, but of such course kind of stuff, that we fancied the Boy had stol'n some poor Beggars Coat for a covering; between me and the Hor••e, upon the cross barrs of the Carr, stood our Charioteer, who presently set his Horse into a Gallop, which so jolted our sides, tho' upon a smooth strand, that we were in Purga∣tory until we got off at Lazy-hill, where I pay'd 4d. for our fair of a Miles riding, and almost as pleas'd as the young Gentleman that drove the Chariot of the Sun wou'd have been, to be rid of his Seat; however they are a great Conveniency, and a Man may go to Rings-End from Dublin, or from hence thither, with a Load of Goods, for a

Gro••t; and we were told, there are an hundred and more plying hereabouts, that one can hardly be disappointed.

I parted with my Fellow Traveller in Essex-street, and from thence I went to take my leave of my honest Barber, Mat. Read upon Cork-hill; and because I found him a generous Lad, I won't leave him without a Character;

He is a Man willing to please, and the most genteel Barber I saw in Dub∣lin, and therefore I became his quarterly Custo∣mer; but as ready as he is to humor his Friends, yet is he brisk and gay, and the worst made for a Dissembler of any Man in the World; he's generous and frank, and speaks whatever he thinks, which made me have a kindness for him; and 'twas not lost, for he treated me every quarterly Payment, and w••s obliging to the last, being one of those dozen Men that feasted me in Essex street, the Friday b••fore I left Dublin; and that wit∣ness'd to the Attestation concerning my Con∣versation. He has Wit enough, a great deal of good Humor, and (tho' a Barber) Owner of as much Generosity as any Man in Ireland. And if ever I visit Dublin again, Mat. Read (or in case of his Death) his Heir and Successor, is the only Barber for me. And as for his Spouse (tho her Face is full of Pock-holes, yet she's a pretty litt••e humour'd Creature, and smiles at ev'ry word.

Having shook hand with honest Matt. I went next through Copper Alley to Skinner-Row, for a parting glimpse of Brass and Patrick Campbel; for tho' they had treated me ill (and that's the Reason why none but they, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 old Usurer, have a block Cha••acter in the Dublin Scuffle) yet I had good Nature enough (tho' not to discourse, yet) just to see 'em when I left Dublin. From paying this silent farewell, I went to th•• Th••lsel, where I sawa 4.10 Mr▪ Quin the present Lord Mayor for the City of ••ublin. Perhap•• Madam, you'l wonder that I shou'd send ye so ma∣ny

Characters, and have yet omitted to send the Character of a Person in such an Eminent Station; but the Reason was, I stay'd to be throughly in∣form'd, before I attempted the Character of my Lord Mayor: But Madam, I am now able to give ye his true Character; and the least I can say of his Lordship is,

He's a Person of great Justice and Integrity (as I found in the a 4.11 hearing I had before him) a couragious ••agistrate, and a true lover of his King and Country; and has the love of all good Men: But there's no need of any more then reading the Flying P••st of Feb. 16. 1699. to know him as well as it he stood before us; for there 'tis said, Dublin Feb. 7. Our Citizens are mightily pleased with the Lord Mayor, on the account of his Proceedings against the Bakers, and relieving the Poor from their Oppressions; a Congratulatory Poem hath been lately Printed and presented to him; on this occasion: Thus far the Flying Post, in which you see that Courage and Justice I told ye was so Emi∣nent in him. But this faithful discharge of his great Trust, is what the Citizens of Dublin might expect from him; for Prudence and Piety have visibly sh••••'d thro' all the Actions of his Life; and 'tis not Honour or Power alters the Temper of a good Man; and therefore 'tis, since he has been chosen Lord Mayor of the City of Dublin, that his Conduct is such, that he is not only a Pattern fit to be imitated by all that shall hereafter succeed him, but in many things 'twill be difficult for any to resemble him; and therefore no wonder the Citizens of Dublin have fixt him in so large a Sphere of doing good; a private Post was not large enough for the service Heaven design'd by this active Magistrate; nor a b 4.12 Hi•• high enough for the notice of one so Exemplary; and to render him the more compleat, 'this brave Soul of his has the happiness to live in a very

beautiful Tenement; and't had been pity i•• shou'd have liv'd in any other.

But I shall stop here, for I had not the Honour to be personally known to his Lordship; so I shall leave the Thol••e•• without any other Farewel then what I have given in this Character; and from hence shall step to the Bull in Nicholas-street, to take my leave of one who is call'd (what she really is) The Flower of Dublin;

no Citizen's Wife is demurer then this Person, as I found at the first greeting▪ nor draws in her Mouth with a chaster Simper, and yet a vertuous good Woman, and very obliging to all her Customers;

and I left her, with some regret: And next rambled to Cow-lane, to take my leave of the Lady Swancastle, who is deservedly fa∣mous for her great Love to her Husband. Madam, a good Wife is a good thing, and rarely to be found, said the wisest of meer Men; and we have reason to believe him the rather, because (asa 4.13 Mr. Turner says) The first Man, Adam, the strong Sampson, the Philosopher So∣crates, and many others, have been either over∣reach'd, or afflicted with Women: But as many bad Wives as there are in the World, I do assure ye, Madam, my Lady Swancastle is none of 'em;

for she's an Honour to her Sex, and a Comfort and Crown to her Husband; and perhaps the most generous Person to her Friends in the World; of which, the noble Cordial she gave me that hour I left Dublin (and many other Favours I receiv'd from her) do abundantly testifie; and tho' her Lord and she are Ancient,

yet they

Live as they've liv'd; still to each other now; And use those Names they did when they first knew. Still the same Smiles within their Cheeks be read, —As were at first. And may the day ne'er come to see a change; Let neither Time nor Age e'er make 'em strange: A••d as you first met, may you ever be, George a young Man, and Chrit. a Girl to Thee.

What George, tho' you shou'd seem like N••stor, old? And Chrit▪ more years had, then Cumana told; Times Snow you must not see, tho' it appears: 'Tis good to ••now your ••ge, not count your years.

Madam, leaving this good Lady under much Grief, (for her Lord is going to Sea with me) my next Visit was to Mr. Hamer, who (as well as my Lord Swancastle) has met with a Suitable Wife, and both being of a sweet Temper, they live as lo∣ving as t••o. Turtles; they lately gave me a splendid Treat, and with them I eat my* 4.14 Christmas Dinner; and there∣fore 'twas when I gave mya 4.15 Farewell Supper, I thought it proper to invite Mr. Hamer and his Wife, as a slender acknow••edgment of the Favours I re∣ceiv'd from 'em.

From Mr. Hamer's Hous•• I ask'd into Church-street, to take my leave ofb 4.16 Mr. Constantine, but ••ad not the happiness to see him; (perhaps he was not return'd from England) however, Madam, I shall here give ye hisc 4.17 Chara∣cter; and seeing I did not see him, I desire it may pass as my Farewell to him; and the least I can say of Mr. Constantine is,

that He's a very conscientious Man; I speak this from my own Experience; for when I sent for the Bill of the Physick I had of him, I found it the most reasonable I ever met with (exceptd 4.18 Mr. Crows, an

Apothecary in Leaden-hall-street;) and just such •• fair Dealer is •• r. Constantine; and which adds further to his Reputation, he's a Man that through∣ly understands his Trade; he is as intimate with Willis and Harvey (at least with their Works) as ever I was with Richard Wilde; and is as well acquainted with the London Dispensatory, as I am with my own Name. He is so conversant with the great Variety of Nature, that not a Drug or Simple 'scapes his Knowledge; their Power and Vertues are known so well to M••. Constantine, that he need not practice new Experiments upon his Patients, except it be in desperate Cases, when Death must be expell d by Death. This also is Praise-worthy in him, that to the Poor he always prescribes cheap, but wholesom Medicines, not curing them of a Consumption in their Bodies, and sending it i••to their Purses; nor yet directing them to the East-Indies to look for Drugs, when they may have far better out of their Gardens. And which is admi••able in him, when he Visits a Patient, his Presence is a sort of Cord•• al, for he's one of a cheerful Temper; and sure I am, that Man is actually dying, that e'n't reviv'd to hear hun talk; he never speaks but 'tis to the purpose; and no Man ever cloath'd his Words in sweeter Epithites. The Estate he has got by his great Practice, has already prefer••'d him to be Sheriff of Dublin; and I don't doubt but a few years will prefer him to the Honour of Lord May••r; and why not, since one of the same Profession now fills the Chair?

Madam, I might inlarge in this ••entleman's Character, but this is my last Visiting day, and the Farewells I've yet to make, won't allow it; but they that wou'd know Mr. Constantine further, may see a living Picture of him ev'ry day in the Person of Mr. chambers; who, as he is his Brother by Trade, so equals him (if any Man ever did) in all the Ver∣tues of an accomplish'd Apothecary. But the Sun had now strid the Horizon, so I stay'd but a minute in Crane lane, and next posted to Mr. Suda••s in

Fishamble-street; I was often invited to come hi∣ther, but cou•• d not do it till this day; when I came to Sudal's, I found his Wife was a Kinswoman of Mr. Doo∣littles* 4.19, and one that I knew in London.

Mr. Sudal is but a little Man in his Person, but I see (by the Treat he gave me) that a great and generous Soul may dwell in a little Tenement. And the least I can say of ••rs. Sudal is, she's an excellent House∣wife, has a great deal of ready Wit; and though taller then her spouse by the H••ad and ••houlders, is other••ise a suitable Wife; but I think Mr. Su∣dal deserves her, for he's a mighty obliging Husband, and very remarkable for the punctual Performance of his Promise. 'Tis true, his Trade and Customers oblige him more to time then other Dealers; but he is punctual more from a Principle of Conscience then Interest; and indeed ••udal, if I belye ye here,

I shou••d scarce think you a Christian. For as the Author of the Duty of Man says, p. 227. That sort of Debt which is brought upon a Man by his own voluntary Promise, cannot without great Inju∣stice be with-holden; and he that dies in such an Act of Injustice (if this Author be in the right) dyes in a state of Damnation: For continues this Author, When a Promise is made, it is now the ••ans right; and then 'tis no matter by what means it came to be so. Therefore we see David makes it part of the De∣scription of a Just Man. Psal. 15. 4. that he keeps his Promise; yea, tho' they were made to his own disadvantage. And surely he is utterly unfit to as∣cend to that Holy Hill there spoken of, either as that signifies the Church here, or Heaven hereafter, that does not punctually observe this part of Justi••e. Thus far the Duty of Man. And I find Mr. ••udal'•• Life is conformable to the Notions of that great Man. And Mad••m, this part of Justice (I mean that of keeping of Promises) being likewise agreeable to my own Sentiments, I cou'd not but have an Esteem for him; I stayd with him five hours, much of which time was spent in talking

of Madam D—and the haughty Rachel (that Rachel I mention'd bef••re) but at five I bid 'em adieu; and next went to High street, to take my leave of an old Vs••rer. I wish I cou'd say any good of him, but I profess I can't; so I think it proper to conceal his Name. When I came to his House, I told Scrape all, I came to bid him fare∣well; but this* 4.20 Rich-poor-Man had not the Soul to ask me to eat or drink; so that I must say (at parting) Mr. L is a Beggar of a fair Estate. I may say of his Wealth, as of other Mens Prodigality,

that it has brought him to this; another that knows the right use of 200 ••. shall live (creditably, and) to b••••ter purpose then he with his 10000 l. every ••ccession of a fresh 100 l. bates him so much of his allowance, and brings him a degree nearer starving. Nay, Madam, I am told (by Mr. Larkin that has known him long) that he's so very Covetous, that he had been starv'd long since, had it not been for the free use of other Mens Tables. 'Tis said Covetousness is the only Sin that grows young as Men gr••w old; and I found it verify'd in this Wretch; who, tho•• worth 10000 l. the Cloaths he had on when I came to see him▪ were never young in the Memo∣ry of any; and he has been known by 'em longer then his Face. Madam▪ for my part I am hearti∣ly concern'd for the poor Heir which will have the Estate; for the old Miser never gave Alms in his whole Life, or did a generous Action; and every one thinks ••twill never prosper, but be rather as great a Curse to the Heir, as 'tis to the present Possessor. Yet, to give the Devil his due, he is a•• charitable to his Neighbour, as he is to himself; and rather then go to a Doctor (Mr. Larkin says he's sure) he'd dye to save Charges. He has but one Kinsman, who was forc'd to wander to Lon∣don to get Bread. He might ha' marry'd a great Fortune, wou'd this Miser have drawn his Purse-strings; but he'd do nothing for him while he liv'd, tho' 500 l. given or ••ent him in his Life∣time,

wou'd ha' done his Cousin more service then Ten Thousand after his Death.

But I shou'd starve shou'd I stay here, so I leave Sir Miser, to take my leave of a more generous Friend; I mean the Inge∣nious Dr. Whaley (a great Benefactor to my three Auctions.) When I came to the Doctor's House, I found he was gone out, perhaps in search after Pa∣trick Campbel, for put••ing of his Title to Cumpsty's Almanack; but if Camphel wou'd ask pardon, I be∣lieve the Doctor wou'd soon forgive him, for Do∣ctor Whaley is a Man of a noble Spirit, and justly merits the Esteem he has with ingenious Men. His Almanack bears the Bell from all the rest in Ireland. I was very desirous to have seen the Doctor at lea∣ving Dublin (to thank him for all his Favours) but missing of him, I next rambled to Mr. Carter's in Fishamble-street; I had but just time to bid Car∣ter adieu, but will say at parting,

He's a genteel honest Printer, is like to marry a Beauty, I hearti∣ly wish him Courage, for faint Heart never won fair Lady; and he can't but conquer, for he's a witty Man, and charms a thousand ways;

Having shook hands with Mr. Carter, I went next to visit my Friend Sparlin in Damas-street, He's a ve∣ry ingenious Man, and blest with an excellent Wife•• He was gone to the Custom-house, so I mist taking my leave of him, for which I was heartily sorty, for he was my Fellow Traveller to Malhide, and I wanted to thank him for old Favours, but 'twas not my luck to meet him at home; so I rambled next to the Keys in High-street, where I met (by appointment) with Iacob Milner, and his Man Shepherd. As to Iacob, he's a well-••••t handsome Man, and I shall treat him civilly in my Summer Ramble, provided he grows humble, is very respect∣ful to Mr. Wilde, and tells Camphel of his great Sin in Printing Hodder's Arithmetick with Cocker's Title, and so exit Iacob to make way for his Man Shepherd, of whom I shall only say, Trim Tram; for he bought Books at my Auction, and I found him an honest Fellow, and there's an end on't. Having taken my leave of Mr. Shepherd, and his good Master, I went

to spend half an hour with Mr. Corbury and his good Wife, who are very obliging Persons, and I shall ever love 'em (and one day requite 'em) for their great tenderness to one of my best Friends. But the day spends, and I have other Farewells to make, so my next Business was to take my leave of my three Landlords, Mr. Orson, Mr. Landers, and Mr. Cawley. As I went along, I hapned to meet with Mrs. Max∣field (a very sensible good Woman) she was going (perhaps) to the Four-Courts to hear a Tryal she had there depending; she hurry'd so fast after her Lawyer, that I had but just time to bid her adieu, and to send a tender Farewell to her vertuous Daughter.

Having left Mother Maxfield, I stop'd no where, 'till I came to my three Landlords; I have already sent their Characters, and shall only add, that after a little wringing of hands, and some Tears at parting, I took my final leave of each; and in my way home I (unexpectedly) met with the ingenious Climene, my Fellow-Traveller to Ballimany; we walk'd toge∣ther to Mr. Larkins, and there parted. As we went along, we had a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of a remarkable black Man, she told me 'twas Dr. Proby; she gave him a migh∣ty Character for his great success in curing the Stone; for his Skill in Surgery, and readiness to serve the Poor. But I had not the happiness to be known to him, so I prevented her speaking to him, being here met by my Servant Robinson (as true a hearted Man as lives) and by his dear Spouse, who has brought me a Pidgion Pye (I had almost said) large enough to victual a single Cabin to the East-Indies. Having taken my leave of this happy couple, I' shou'd next enquire for the Gentleman with a red Face, honest Doctor Robinson (I mean him who makes so noted a Figure in the Dublin Custom-house.) He's a very agreeable Friend, pun∣ctual to his great Trust, yet very obliging; had I a minute to spare, we'd shake hands over a glas•• of Claret; and from him I shou'd step to the Post-house, to take my leave of Mr. Shepherd, He's a very generous good Man, and I shou'd in Justice

give him a Farewell Bottle; but I am tyr'd with my days Ramble, and the Sun has got on his Nightcap, and if I don't hasten, will be gone to his bed before I am got to my Chamber. But I engag••d Mr. Wild to make an Apology to Dr. Robinson, and Mr. Shep∣herd, and to present 'em in my Name, with a Farewell-Token. This Saturday night concluded my Dublin-Farewells, and if the Wind be fair on Mon∣day, I shall embark with Owner Pickance, and then farewell to the Kingdom in ge∣neral (farewell* 4.21 for ever) and when I get to London, I'll fall to Printing this Account of my Conversation, and also my Scuffle with Patrick Camp∣bel, for 'tis expected in Dublin, as appears by a Letter directed to Mr. Larkin, which begins thus; viz.

SIR,

WE, or many of us here, wou'd be glad, The Dub∣lin Scuffle was out, which Dick Pue says he will buy one of, and chain to his Table, that the sale may be spoyl'd by every body's reading it for a Penny a piece, and THAT he shall get. I am sorry therefore, he is not like to have a severer lash then I am afraid he will, without it be suhjoyn'd in a Postscript; for Dick and I now are two, and for want of yours, made a Dublin Scuffle of our own t'other Night. Thus far the Letter to Mr. Larkin: And an hour ago, I receiv'd my self, a Letter from Sir Hackney (I call him so as he's Campbel's Tool) wondering the Dub∣lin Scuffle is not yet out; but withal, threatning I know not what, if I omit the inserting some of his own Maggots: 'Tis true, Madam, such a Scoundrel as this is scarce worth my notice; yet I wou'd tell ye his Name, but that he's asham'd on't himself, and has turn'd it into a Bog-house; but to shew this hectoring Tool how much I defie him, and all his Abettors, I'll here insert the Character of Robin Bog∣house, (for so he calls himself.)

His Face is full of a cer∣tain briskness,* 5.1 tho' mixt with an Air a little malicious and unpleasant; he has a large stock of Ill-Nature, Pride, and Wit, in which lies his chiefest Excellency, tho' a very un∣envy'd one. His Face is made of Brass, and his Tongue tip'd with Lyes (for there was not a true word in all his Letter;) yet as leud as that and his Tongue is, they are the two best Accom∣plishments he has; I find in his Letter he has not a dram of tenderness for his best Friends (I mean those that pay him for Scribling;) for I guess by his Letter, he's going to expose one of 'em for buy∣ing and selling a Whore, a second for having a Ba∣stard; a third, for being shamefully Hen-peckt; a fourth, for being a Town-Bull, and a fifth,* 5.2 for put∣ing a Cheat on the World. But no wonder he abuses the Men, for he's so un∣mannerly, as to revile even the fair Sex; he lately call'd a Lady Whore, for no other Reason (as 'tis suppos'd) but because she'd not give him a Nights Lodging: Then where shall a Man find him, for he slanders every body; and Proteus like, appears in all manner of shapes; sometimes he calls himself a Student of Trinity Col∣lege near Dublin; at other times a Kt. Errant, and fights every thing; and the next moment owns himself a poor Labourer, and desires his Wife wou'd make him a C—d in meer Charity to his hungry Belly; for he, good Man! is willing to hold the door (even to his own Flesh and Blood) invent Lyes, slander innocent Virgins, swear through an Inch board, and do any thing rather then starve; so that if two Irish Justices and my self ben't mistaken,*** 5.3 Robin Bog-house will dye looking through an Hempen Case∣ment; or, if he'll kneel low enough for it, per∣haps

he may come off (for I'll stand his Friend when I see him penitent) with being only whip'd at the Garts A—. And as to his Wife, tho' she's a vertuoas Woman, yet I'd advise the honest Cits of Dublin, never to go to Refarnum with her, for Robin is so leud (himself) that he thinks no man

travels with her, but makes him a C••d.

Now if Bog-house is not the Person I here describe, yet if he that is, will answer this Character fairly, I mean put his Name to't (as I shall do in my reply to him, for I hate a Coward) I'll answer his Let∣ters ev'ry Post; and if Patrick Campbel will petiti∣on for it, he shall be my Bookseller, and his oppo∣site Neighbour the Printer of this Skirmish.

Thus Madam, having sent ye the History of my Conversation in Ireland, and some hints of my Sum∣mer Ramble (from the time I landed, to the Sunday I left it;) and having also as truly related how I came to be ingag'd in a Dublin Scuffle, and why the said SCVFFLE is so much desir'd by Dick Pu••, and his Cousin Boghouse: Perhaps you'll expect my Remarks on the Impatience of these two, till my Scuffle arrives in Dublin.

Then first as to Dick Pue; I can't find by the Letter sent Mr. Larkin, whether he so impatiently desires my Scuffle, that he may spoil the Sale on't, by chaining 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to his Table, or THAT (to use the Word in Mr. Larkin's Letter) he may get a Penny by Peoples reading it; but I rather incline to this last Opinion, for Dick hopes by the many Pence he shall get by it, that he might reimburse himself of that Money he paid (for some Body) for Secret Service, and I know to whom, and what Summ, and so shall the World too, except he'll bring Boghouse to light, that the World may know the Man that Begets Actaeon's; and that's all I shall say at present concerning Dick, or his Dear Cou∣sin.

And now (Madam) having in this Letter sent ye the Characters of almost every thing I convers'd with in Ireland, I hope you'll pardon me if (in the

last place) I allow my self a Character amongst the rest: 'Tis true, Cowley says, The Voyage Life is longest made at Home; however from that small Acquain∣tance I have with my self, I may venture to say, As to my BIRTH, I account it no small Honour that I descended from the Tribe of Levi; and, I find an Ingenious Author of this Opinion, who says, I reck'n a 5.4 it amongst the Felicities of my Life, to have been a Prophets Son, nor wou'd I leave a Pulpit for a Throne: To be Ambassadors of Jesus, is matter of Glory, and if you have Faith to believe a Poet, Their Chil∣dern,

b 5.5 Do all breath something more than common Air.

And Mr. Robbinson is of this Opinion, or wou'd scarce have set on the greatc 5.6 Pot for the Sons of the Prophets. Then I'm honour'd as much (to use the words of the same Author) in having a Minister for my Father, as if he had been a Lord; and this Happiness was continued to me a great while, for myd 5.7 Reverend Father was Rector ofe 5.8 Aston ••lin∣ton for twenty years; and those Principles he instill'd into me in that Town, do (as my Lord Russel says in the like case) still hang about me, and I hope will (as they did him) give me comfort in my dying Mo∣ments. My Father design'd me at first for an Ox∣ford Scholar, but afterwards changing his Mind, in my fifteenth year he plac'd me out with an Emi∣nent Citizen in London, whose kind Instructions and great care of my Wellfare, I shall ever acknowledge. From this Account of my Birth and Education, I proceed (for I consider I am not writing my Life, but Character) to a description of my Person, which is

So, So; However, two of the Fair Sex have been tempted to take it for better for worse; (a black Man is a Pearl in a Fair Womans Eye) and if you'll believe the dying words of the first, and living Testi∣mony of my present Wife, never repented their Bar∣gain.

Having given ye an odd Account of my Person, I shall next tell ye with what Soul 'tis acted. Truly Madam, this House of mine is fill'd with a Rambling Tenant (I mean a Spirit that wou'd breaka 5.9 the Vessel, had it nothing to work up∣on) and being born to travel, I am ever pursuing my Desti∣ny; so that you may truly call me, a Citizen of London, and of all the World; (for I've seen Ameri∣ca, and design to see Europe, Asia, and Africa) yet where e'er I come, I love to be guest at, not known, and to see the World unseen; and for this very Rea∣son am projecting a Correspondence with your La∣dyship, which I'll call the Art of living incognito; and another I'll call the Character of my living Ac∣quaintance (perhaps 5000 in number) wherein I'll spare neither Saint nor Sinner that I ever talk'd with; no, tho' (like a Rich Criminal) he'd buy off his Name with a Purse of Guineas. 'Tis true, 'tis common to write the Character of those that are dead, but the writing the History of living Men, is a Project never attempted before; but if every Man wou'd attempt something of this Nature (I mean write the Historyb 5.10 of his Life, comprehending as well his Vices as Vertues) we shou'd begin to know one ano∣ther a little: But whether they will or not, I have here led the way, and will pursue it till I have Characteriz'd all my Acquain∣tance. So that you see, Madam, tho' Rambling is part of my Character, yet, that both my Eyes are never at once from home, but that one keeps House, and observes the Actions of Men, while the other

romes abroad for Intelligence. But Rambling ha∣ving an ill Name, perhaps your Ladyship wou'd willingly know something more about my Religi∣on. Madam, 'tis the very same you find in the Account of my Conversation; and let my Ene∣mies say what they please, I'll never alter it, for I never matter Abuses (when I can't avoid 'em;) and therefore 'tis in the midst of Reflections my Coun∣tenance never changeth, for I know whom I have trusted, and whether Death can lead me; and being not so sure I shall die, as that I shall be restor'd, I out-face Death with the Thoughts of my Resurre∣ction: If I am found dead upon the spot, what matters it? For not being able to govern Events, I endeavour to govern my self; (and sure I am, 'tis the greatest of Dominions to Rule ones Self, and Pas∣sions;) I am advanc'd already so far in this rare Art, that I hope I may say, just Censures I deserve not; unjust I contemn: (and notwithstanding the sneaking Treatment I had from Campbel) I never judge any Man unheard, nor never will. I'm amaz'd to find the Pretenders to Religion so much guilty of this Sin; but I thank God Censoriousness has ever been my Aversion; for I observe not one Report in fifty isa 5.11 true, and therefore believe eve∣ry man honest till I find him otherwise: Most men are led by either Preju∣dice, Interest, or some By∣end, and therefore in matters of slander, I be∣lieve no Mans Eyes nor Ears, but my own: Nei∣ther do I listen to Back∣biters, but esteem 'em worse then the Men they'd blacken; or if I find any Man as bad as describ'd, if I see him penitent, I ne∣ver divulge his Crime; and that was the Reason I took such pains to bring Campbel to a sense of his Error; which had I effected, the Dublin Scuffle had

never appear'd. And as I take a pleasure to cover the faults of my worst Enemies (when I see 'em penitent,) so I take as much delight to blazon their Vertues; and that's the reason so many in Ireland have my good Character. Vertue is so charming a thing, that the Ancients were wont to say, Cou'd Men see it with bodily Eyes, they'd fall down and worship it; I can't tell what fine Notions our Fore∣fathers had of Vertue, yet sure I am, Vertue is a sort of Prodigy in our times; so that where e'er I find it, I can't refrain from admiring it, and to write a Character of the Person who I think possesses it; and tho' I design a service to others by so doing, yet if I lose my end, I shall rest content; for I have this peculiar to my self, that I was never much con∣cern'd (except for the Deaths of Eliza and D—ne) for the things that I can't help, for I do all I can to prevent a Grievance, and then I acquiesce in the Divine Pleasure. Yet does not my pretence to Re∣ligion make me a jot precise (and this I learnt from the Dear Eliza.) I value no Man for his starch'd Looks, or supercilious Gravity; or for being a Church∣man▪ Presbyterian, Independant, &c. provided he's sound in the main points wherein all good Men are agreed; and therefore 'tis I have little Charity for censorious Men, be they of what Party they will. But Madam, tho' I'm thus easie in my Conversa∣tion, yet if justly provok'd, I can be angry enough, but 'tis over in half a Minute; and I am not sooner in a Flame, then I am reconcil'd; yet I never flat∣ter any Man, bu•• value my self for being a blunt Fellow. 'Tis true, your Ladyship once satyriz'd me with the Name of a Poet (for 'tis the same thing as if you'd call me Beggar; even famousa 5.12 Butler was forc'd to die, and be interr'd on Tick,) and say all my tender Expressions proceed more from the Brain and Fancy, then my Heart. But (Madam) as much as I love Rhiming, yet there's four or five in the World (of which your

Ladyship is one, and the Inge∣nious b 5.13 Hamlen another) that I respect without the least mixture of Poetry; and I ap∣peal to your selves for the Truth of this part of my Character, for you both know I have but one Heart, and that lies open to fight; and were it not for Discretion, I never think ought whereof I'd avoid a Witness; and there∣fore 'tis strange I've one Friend in the World, for Folks don't love to hear of their Faults; and I'se downright, and call a spade a spade: I also own I'm very rash in my Action••, and scarce ever did any thing (save taking two Women for better for worse) but I repented of one time or other. I have a great deal of Mercury in my natural Temper, for which I must have allowance (or shall appear but an odd Christian) but the best Men are the most Charitable, and no man (if he considers himself) will blame that in me which I can't help; perhaps I shall be blam'd for this open Confession, but having an honest design in every thing I do, I publish that to the World, which others wou'd keep as a secret; and for this Reason I creep to no body, but by daring to tell the Truth, do often lose a Friend for the sake of a Jest; but bating but this Fault, tho' I say't my self, I'm as fit to make a Friend as any Man I know, for my Bosom is my Friends Closet, where he may safely lock up all his Complaints, his Doubts, and Cares, and look how he leaves, so he finds 'em. The Dead, the Absent, the Innocent, and he that trusts me, I never deceive or slander; (to these I owe a nobler Iustice) and am so sensible of another's In∣juries, that when my Friend is stricken, I cry out. I was never forward in contracting of Friendships, but where I once love, I never hate, no not for a Crime, any longer then till Pardon is ask'd; and if my Friend falls to decay, I'm even ready to rejoyce (I ask his Pardon) that I have an Opportunity to convince him I lov'd in earnest; and tho' 'twere im∣possible he shou'd ever requite me, while I have any

thing, my Friend shall have all; nay, I have this pe∣culiar to my self, that I love a Friend better for being Poor, Miserable, or Despis'd; True Friend∣ship, like the Rose, flourishes best amongst Thorns; and my Hopes are so strong, that they can insult over the greatest Discouragement that lies in the way of serving my Friend: And therefore I'd ra∣ther serve mya 5.14 Friend, then barely pretend to't, for I hate a noise where there's no Performance. I never do that to my Friend, that I can't be content he shou'd do to me; and therefore loving at this warm rate, 'tis but just I slight what loves not so much as my self.

So much for my Birth, Education, Person, Tem∣per of Mind, Religion, and Friendship. As to my Dealings with Men, my Word is my Parchment, and my Yea my Oath, which I will not violate for Fear or Gain; and this is one Reason why I never eat my Promise, or say▪ this I saw not, but this I said, In 600 Books I ha'e Printed, I never swerv'd from the Price agreed on, or made any Printer call twice for his Money; (which Practice I learnt from my honoured Master) nor did I ever print any Man's Copy, or purchase his Author by out-bidding; and my way of Traffick is all above board, for I betray the Faults of what I sell. I have twenty times in Dublin restor'd the over-seen Gain of a mistaken Reckoning; and (being haunted with a scrupulous Mind) have often paid a Sum over twice, for fear of doing wrong; and this even Dick Pue will own, if he has any justice left. But what Justice can I expect, when the Malice of some Men is so deep, and their Capacities so shallow, as to believe a Cri∣minal in his own Case, to the Prejudice of an Inno∣cent Man? But they that will judge me by the malicious Tongues of my prejudic'd Enemies, are ••itter for a place in Bedlam, then to live amongst honest People, for honest Men there are in the World; and therefore I appeal to Mr. Wild in Dub∣lin,

to Mr. Wilkins in New-England, to Mr. Darker in London, and all that have traded with me, for the Truth of this scrupulous Iustice. But as scrupu∣lous as I am in Trade, I was never wanting to my Belly, nor a Wretch to my Back; and am the same Enemy to Prodigality, as I am to a sneaking Tem∣per; and I think I am right (in this part of my Character;) for Solomon says, Eccles. 2.24. There is nothing better for a Man, then that he shou'd eat and drink, and that he shou'd make his Soul enjoy good in his Labour. But tho' I pity the Man, Eccles. 6. 2. To whom God hath given Riches, and not the Power to eat thereof, but a Stranger eateth it; yet of the two extreams, I think it much better to live beneath, then above my Estate; for I had rather want then borrow, and beg then not pay. And tho' I ha'e Printeda 5.15 600 Books, I never Printed a New Title to an old Book, nor never undervalued a Copy, because I did not Print it my self; and I ever thought it as base Injustice to run upon another's Project; neither did I ever murther any Man's Name, with saying, he Print∣ed this or that, the more cunningly to praise my self; and I as little like underselling others, to get Chapmen. To summ up my Character in few words: I love Rambling, don't love Fighting; love Valeria, don't love Money; love my Friend, don't fear nor hate my Enemy: Love Fair-draling; Had rather be call'd Fool then Knave. Let People laugh, while I win. Can be secret if trusted. Am ow'd more then I owe; and can pay more then that; make my Word as good as my Bond. Won't do a foul thing, and bid the World go 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Now whatever your Ladyship thinks (or my Enemies may say against me) all that know me will own this is the True Character of Iohn Dunton; or at least, 'tis the Character of what I shou'db 5.16 be. I write not this out of vain Glory, but

as a necessary Vindication of my Life and Acti∣ons, against the Abuses of Patrick Campbel. But perhaps your Ladyship will say, I live by ill Neigh∣bours, that I praise my self: To this I Answer, I see little in this Character that adds much to my Praise; or if I did, I shou'd spoil it, with telling your Ladyship that my Faults are so many to my few Vertues (if I have any) that I'm ready to own my self the worst of Men; and do often cry out with the Publican, Luke 18.13. God be merciful to me a Sinner. However (Madam) If I have been too kind to my self in this present Character, if your Ladyship (in your Remarks on it) will honour me so far as to take your Pencil, and draw me just as I am, (for this Conversation sets me in a true light,)•• I'll Print the Character you give me, tho' 'twere a Satyr upon my whole Life; for I know you'r just, and will write nothing but what you think; and I so little value the Praises of others, that I'll Print it just as you send it; and if the exposing my Faults will make others avoid 'em, I shall reckon the Publishing of 'em amongst the chief Blessings of my Life: And if, when your Hand's in at Characters, you'll send me your own, 'twou'd direct my Pen in my writing tee ye, and be the best Rule (next the Bible) that I cou'd live by. But Madam, if I find (by your Character) you're as fallible as other Ladies, I'll be as severe upon it (in our future Cor∣respondence) as I desire you'd now be upon mine; which (if I know any thing of my self) is so far from being Romantick, that I appeal to my own Con∣science for the Truth of my whole Character; and here Conscience will stand my Friend: Nay, in some Sence, a Man's Conscience is the only Friend or Enemy he has in the World, for a Man can't fly from himself (as I hinted in the Dublin Scuffle) and therefore must be as great a Fool as Knave, if he turns Argus (alias Traytor) to his own Person; but I am so little guilty of this Madness, that I think Argus a base Animal to suppress Letters, meerly to carry on a Correspondence of his own

with the same Person; for, notwithstanding Bog∣land b••asts of no venemous thing, such a Serpent there is in Ireland, or else I am wrong inform'd: But he's a ••ly inv••sible Tool, and I almost despair of catching him; but that I may do all I can to dis∣cover him, I'll fall to write, A search after Argus. I hear of him in London by the Bristol Packet, again in Dublin (by Dorinda's Billet;) and perhaps shall see him in Scotland; but shall scarce catch him (except at Rome,) in a Jesuits Habit. But if I miss him at Rome, I'll take Shipping for St. Helena, (for he resembles a Cousin of mine that was born there) but like was never the same; so I'll leave this Island, and rather then search in vain, I'll ramble next to Helicon, to enquire of Madam Laureat (the Western Nightingale) who justly wears the Bays, and has no equal on Earth, but your Lady∣ship; and I am apt to think I shall meet him here, for when Herma lays her hands to the Spinnet, or charms with her heavenly Tongue, the very An∣gels sit and listen to her Song; and what can't a Lady discover, that can becken to Angels to give her Intelligence. But suppose Herma can give no Account of Argus, yet this Ramble may bless the rest, for she's my Friend more then in words; and if I meet her, will wish me a great Deal of Diversion in my Travels; and (being a generous Lady) will con∣tribute towards 'em.

I'll next enquire of Mr. Read (the Barber I before describ'd) for he'll dine with me to Morrow in Iewin-street, and then I shall hear of Argus, for Mat. has been viewing Holland, and some say, had a glimpse of Argus in Amsterdam; and not unlikely, for his Manners shew him a Dutch-man. If I gain no Intelligence here, I'll send to Lucas in Crane-lane, for he's a Man very inquisitive; and being a grate∣ful Person, if he hear of Argus, will let me know it by the first Post. But my search is still after Argus, and rather then not find him, I'll next ramble to S••mon, for he's a generous good Man, and if he knows such a WRETCH as Argus, I'm

sure will bring him out; or at least, direct me to an old Gentlewoman (a Grave, Pious, Ingenious La∣dy) who knows Argus by Numb. 3. and is the only Person that can discover him: But if I enquire for Argus here, perhaps this old Lady will think him a DRY SUBJECT, and never CONSENT to the Favour I ask; (no, though I WHINE like a Dog in a a 5.17 Halter;) but this Matron need not fret her self, for 'tis beneath myb 5.18 Spirit to court (a young, much less) an old Woman in vain: Besides, Ro∣sinante will soon be sadled, and poor Sancho knows the way to the Bath, and if I desire it, will go with m•• round the World; I mean still, in search after Argus, whom I'll find if possi∣ble; but as Scoggin said (when he until'd the ridge of a House to seek for a Gold Watch) I must as well look where he is not, as where he is; and therefore in my further search after Argus, I'll next step to my Friend Ignotus, and from him to the learned Fido, for they are two generous Levites, and wou'd never conceal my Enemy. If I miss him here (as I judge I shall) I'll next ramble to a cer∣tain French-man, and ask if he knows Argus, for Argus says he is intimate with him; But what I get of Monsieur, must be by way of Petition, for Argus says he's a desperate Blade, and I have no fancy to a broken P••te. If Monsieur will give no Account of Argus, I'll next step to the ••ost-house; for some say this invisible Fox gets his Bread by sorting (and intercepting) of Letters: But if I can have no Account of him here, I'll ride Post to all the Gibbets in Christendom, as the fittest Place for a Man that betrays his Trust; and if I miss of him here, I'll conclude the Story of ARGUS was but a Poetical Fiction, or that the Devil is run away with him.

Madam, I have now finish'd the Account of my Conversation in Ireland, (to which I've added my

search after Argus, the only Serpent thought to be in it,) which perhaps your Ladyship will think as true as the Story of Bevis, or the Travels of Tom. Coriat; for how can this hang together, that this Letter shou'd be writ at Patts Coffee-house (as I at first hinted) when part of it seems to be writ to your Ladyship in Dublin after my arrival at Lon∣don; and part of it from Dublin, whilst you were in England; and perhaps Madam, the World will be as much puzled to find out how I cou'd at the same time mention the last things I did in Ireland, as well as the first, and all this in one Letter. How can this come right? except you're a Man of Art, and can reconcile plain Contradictions.

This Madam, is easily reconcil'd, if your Lady-shiy pleases to remember, that tho' it is Printed as one continued Letter, yet it was sent to you in seve∣ral; (as were also your Ladyships Answers;) and tho' this be enough to attone for the seeming Con∣tradictions, yet I may further add, 'tis 'nt to be thought, that a Man that e'nt quite distracted, wou'd quote so many Eminent Persons (and some of the first Rank) to countenan••e that which they cou'd contradict; and as this alone is enough to prove the Truth of part of my Conversation: So the Ad∣ditions I made to it since I came to London (upon a further Recollection) reconcile all the seeming Contradictions in it: For might I not write a great part of it at Patts Coffee-house in Dublin, and send it to your Ladyship at your return to London (with a desire you'd enquire after the state of my House in Iewin-street;) and is it not equally as probable, that when ever your Ladyship went back to Dublin, I shou'd tell ye, upon my Arrival in London, of the last things I did in Ireland, with the Names of the Persons that hazarded their Lives to see me a Shipboard.

Thus Madam, tho' unacquainted with the subtle distinctions of Art, yet by the Clue of Truth, I have led your Ladyship out of those Labyrinths in which my Irish Conversation (Printed in one tedious Let∣ter) might seem to involve ye.

But (Madam) I fear I have tyr'd you quite, and yet cou'd scarce avoid being thus tedious; for since I was a 5.19 resolv'd to have my Cause try'd at your Barr, 'twas ne∣cessary to give you a full Account of my Conversa∣tion; that so, by putting things in the clearest Light, you might be the better able to Judge me aright. And having done this, I shall conclude with this Request to your Ladyship, That you'd now Read, Try, Iudge, and speak as you find: And whatever your Sentence be, you will there∣by oblige,

MADAM,

Your Ladyship's Most Humble, and most Obedient Servant, IOHN DVNTON.

London, April 20. 1699.

Notes

• * 1.1

  For so the chief Magistrate of the Ci∣ty is stil'd there, as well as in London.
• * 1.2

  Which Elegy I'll insert in my Summer Ram∣ble.
• * 1.3

  Psal. 90: 10.
• * 1.4

  This American Ramble is now rea∣dy for the Press.
• * 1.5

  This Mary Gossam is still living.
• * 1.6

  Mr. Shaw of Cork-hill.
• * 1.7

  'Tis a Line in a New Song.
• * 1.8

  At Bally Many.
• * 1.9

  One of the Beasts I fought at Ephesus.
• * 1.10

  As is hinted in the Dublin Scuffle.
• * 1.11

  See my fare∣well to Dublin.
• * 1.12

  Prov. 23. 5
• * 2.1

  In his Poem pub∣lish'd at the Duke's landing in Ireland.
• * 3.1

  Col. 4. 14.
• * 3.2

  Prov. 31. 27.
• * 4.1

  This Currough is a Boat made of such light Materials, that a Man may pass over the Boyn in it, and then wind it up so, as to carry it in his Hand.
• * 4.2

  2 Sam. 10. 15.
• (a) 4.3

  Gen. 27. 27.
• * 4.4

  Climene.
• a 4.5

  As was hinted before, in p. 390.
• a 4.6

  See more of this in the Dub∣lin Scuffle. p. 142.
• a 4.7

  As may be seen in p. 52. of the Dub∣lin Scuffle.
• a 4.8

  Mr. Larkin, who was present at these Relations, is now living in Hand-Ally in Bishops-gate-street.
• a 4.9

  See his Character in my farewell to Dub∣lin.
• a 4.10

  An Apo••hecary in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Row.
• a 4.11

  See more of this in the Dublin Scuffle.
• b 4.12

  As was said of my Reverend Father-in-law, Dr. Annosly.
• a 4.13

  In his History of Providence.
• * 4.14

  'Twas then my Lord Swan∣castle gave me a noble Apple▪ if I cou'd have kept it; of which I have a pleasant Story to tell in my Summer Ramble.
• a 4.15

  To Mr. Bourn, Mr. Gee, Mr. D••bbs, Mr. Servant, Mr. Dell, Mr. Penny, Mr. Tra∣cy, (alias Pat▪) Mr. Wilde, Mr. Larkin, Mr. ••rice, and Mr. Robinson.
• b 4.16

  The only Apo∣thecary I made use of in Dublin.
• c 4.17

  In return for the Visits he made me, du∣ring my Illness.
• d 4.18

  Who in his Bill of 501. (for Physick given to my first Wife) us'd me so very honestly, that I cou'd not desire him to 'bate a farthing.
• * 4.19

  A No••conformist Minister in London.
• * 4.20

  As Cowley calls the Miser.
• * 4.21

  As is hinted in the Dublin Scuffle.
• * 5.1

  The Character of Robin Bog-house.
• * 5.2

  All these I•• ll prove in a second part of the Dublin Scuffle, if I hear any more of him.
• *** 5.3

  Alias T. D.
• a 5.4

  See the Character of a good Woman, p. 125. Printed for John Harris.
• b 5.5

  See the Poem dedicated to the Sons of the Clergy.
• c 5.6

  See the Sermon He Printed on 2 Kings 4. 38.
• d 5.7

  Mr. Iohn Dunton.
• e 5.8

  In the County of Bucks.
• a 5.9

  See my Preface to the Spectators of the Dublin Scuffle.
• b 5.10

  As is hinted in my Preface to the Dublin Scuffle.
• a 5.11

  This is evident by the harsh. Reflections (I lately found in the Lon∣don-Spy) on Three Emi∣nent Traders, who are as much noted for their just and honourable Deal∣ings, as they are for that Great Estate and Trade God has blest 'em with.
• a 5.12

  As Oldham tells us in his Poems.
• b 5.13

  Now living at Frome in Somerset∣shire.
• a 5.14

  The several hun∣dred Pounds I've paid for others, sufficiently proves this.
• a 5.15

  Of which see •• further Account in my Farewell Let∣ter to the City of Dublin.
• b 5.16

  As was hinted concerning some other Characters in this Book.
• a 5.17

  As was hinted in Mr. Wilde's Ch••∣Character, p. 405.
• b 5.18

  As was obser∣ved by one that had Reason to know.
• a 5.19

  As I said in the beginning of this Letter.