to take off the leg; I hope I am not to be taught at this time of day."-" Madam," interrupts he, "we are never too old to be instructed."-" Old Sir!" interrupts the other, of some that will quake for fear: If the leg does not come off, take the turkey to yourself." " Madam," replied the man in black, "I do not care a farthing whether the leg or the wing comes off; if you are for the leg first, why you shall have the argument, even though it be as I say."-" As for the matter of that," cries the widow, "I do not care a fig whether you are for the leg off or on; and, friend, for the future keep your distance."-" O," replied the other, "that is easily done; it is only removing to the other end of the table; and so, Madam, your most obedient humble servant." tender upon this occasion. The widow was dressed up under the direction of Mrs Tibbs; and as for her lover, his face was set off by the assistance of a pig-tail wig, which was lent by the little beau, to fit him for making love" who is old, Sir? when I die of age, I know with proper formality. The whole company easily perceived that it would be a double wedding before all was over, and, indeed, my friend and the widow seemed to make no secret of their passion; he even called me aside, in order to know my candid opinion, whether I did not think him a little too old to be married? "As for my own part," continued he, "I know I am going to play the fool, but all my friends will praise my wisdom, and produce me as the very pattern of discretion to others." At dinner, every thing seemed to run on with good-humour, harmony, and satisfaction. Every creature in company thought themselves pretty, and every jest was laughed at. The man in black sat next his mistress, helped her plate, chimed her glass, and jogging her knees and her elbow, he whispered something arch in her ear, on which she patted his cheek: never was antiquated passion so playful, so harmless, and amusing, as between this reverend couple. Thus was this courtship of an age destroyed in one moment; for this dialogue effectually broke off the match between this respectable couple, that had been just concluded. The smallest accidents disappoint the most important treaties. However, though it in some measure interrupted the general satisfaction, it no ways lessened the happiness of the youthful couple; and, by the young lady's looks, I could perceive she was not entirely displeased with this interruption. The second course was now called for, and among a variety of other dishes, a fine turkey was placed before the widow. The Euro- In a few hours the whole transaction seemed peans, you know, carve as they eat; my friend, entirely forgotten, and we have all since enjoytherefore, begged his mistress to help him to a ed those satisfactions which result from a conpart of the turkey. The widow, pleased with sciousness of making each other happy. My an opportunity of showing her skill in carving, son and his fair partner are fixed here for life : (an art upon which it seems she piqued her- the man in black has given them up a small self,) began to cut it up by first taking off the estate in the country, which, added to what I leg. "Madam," cries my friend, "if I might was able to bestow, will be capable of supplybe permitted to advise, I would begin by cut-ing all the real, but not the fictitious demands ting off the wing, and then the leg will come off more easily. Sir," replies the widow, "give me leave to understand cutting up a fowl; I always begin with the leg,"_"Yes, Madam," replies the lover, "but if the wing be the most convenient manner, I would begin with the wing."-" Sir," interrupts the lady, "when you have fowls of your own, begin with the wing if you please, but give me leave of happiness. As for myself, the world being but one city to me, I do not much care in which of the streets I happen to reside: I shall, therefore, spend the remainder of my life in examining the manners of different countries, and have prevailed upon the man in black, to be my companion. They must often change," says Confucius, "who would be constant in happiness or wisdom." Adieu. THE LIFE OF DR PARNELL. THE life of a scholar seldom abounds with adventure. His fame is acquired in solitude. And he historian, who only views him at a distance, nust be content with a dry detail of actions by vhich he is scarcely distinguished from the rest of mankind. But we are fond of talking of hose who have given us pleasure, not that we ave any thing important to say, but because he subject is pleasing. THOMAS PARNELL, D. D. was descended rom an ancient family that had for some cenuries been settled at Congleton in Cheshire. His father, Thomas Parnell, who had been atached to the commonwealth party, upon the Restoration went over to Ireland; thither he arried a large personal fortune, which he laid ut in lands in that kingdom. The estates he urchased there, as also that of which he was posessed in Cheshire, descended to our poet, who as his eldest son, and still remain in the famiThus want, which has compelled many f our greatest men into the service of the uses, had no influence upon Parnell; he was poet by inclination. He was born in Dublin, in the year 1679, id received the first rudiments of his educaon at the school of Doctor Jones in that city. urprising things are told us of the greatness his memory at that early period; as of his ing able to repeat by heart, forty lines of any ok at the first reading; of his getting the ird book of the Iliad in one night's time, hich was given in order to confine him for me days. These stories which are told of most every celebrated wit, may perhaps be But for my own part, I never found y of those prodigies of parts, although I have own enow that were desirous among the morant of being thought so. ue. There is one presumption, however, of the rly maturity of his understanding. He was nitted a member of the college of Dublin at e age of thirteen, which is much sooner than al, as at that university they are a great deal stricter in their examination for entrance than either at Oxford or Cambridge. His progress through the college course of study was probably marked with but little splendour; his imagination might have been too warm to relish the cold logic of Burgersdicius, or the dreary subtleties of Smiglesius; but it is certain, that, as a classical scholar, few could equal him. His own compositions show this; and the deference which the most eminent men of his time paid him upon that head, puts it beyond a doubt. He took the degree of Master of Arts the ninth of July, 1700; and in the same year he was ordained a Deacon by William, Bishop of Derry, having a dispensation from the Primate, as being under twenty-three years of age. He was admitted into priest's orders about three years after, by William, Archbishop of Dublin; and on the ninth of February, 1705, he was collated by Sir George Ashe, Bishop of Clogher, to the archdeaconry of Clogher. About that time also, he married Miss Anne Minchin, a young lady of great merit and beauty, by whom he had two sons, who died young, and one daughter who is still living. His wife died some time before him; and her death is said to have made so great an impression on his spirits that it served to hasten his own. On the thirty-first of May 1716, he was presented by his friend and patron, Archbishop King, to the vicarage of Finglass, a benefice worth about four hundred pounds a year, in the diocese of Dublin, but he lived to enjoy his preferment a very short time. He died at Chester, in July, 1717, on his way to Ireland, and was buried in Trinity church in that town, without any monument to mark the place of his interment. As he died without male issue, his estate devolved to his only nephew, Sir John Parnell, Baronet, whose father was younger brother to the Archdeacon, and one of the Justices of the King's Bench in Ireland. Such is the very unpoetical detail of the life of a poet. Some dates, and some few facts scarcely more interesting than those that make the ornaments of a country tomb-stone, are all that remain of one, whose labours now begin to excite universal curiosity. A poet, while living, is seldom an object sufficiently great to attract much attention; his real merits are known but to a few, and these are generally sparing in their praises. When his fame is increased by time, it is then too late to investigate the peculiarities of his disposition; the dews of the morning are past, and we vainly try to continue the chase by the meridian splendour. There is scarcely any man but might be made the subject of a very interesting and amusing history, if the writer, besides a thorough acquaintance with the character he draws, were able to make those nice distinctions which separate it from all others. The strongest minds have usually the most striking peculi-arities, and would consequently afford the richest materials: but in the present instance, from not knowing Dr Parnell, his peculiarities are gone to the grave with him; and we are obliged to take his character from such as knew but little of him, or who, perhaps, could have given very little information if they had known more. Parnell, by what I have been able to collect from my father and uncle, who knew him, was the most capable man in the world to make the happiness of those he conversed with, and the least able to secure his own. He wanted that evenness of disposition which bears disappointment with phlegm, and joy with indifference. He was ever very much elated or depressed; and his whole life spent in agony or rapture. But the turbulence of these passions only affected himself, and never those about him he knew the ridicule of his own character, and very effectually raised the mirth of his companions, as well at his vexations as at his triumphs. How much his company was desired, appears from the extensiveness of his connexions, and the number of his friends. Even before be made any figure in the literary world, his friendship was sought by persons of every rank and party. The wits at that time differed a good deal from those who are most eminent for their understanding at present. It would now be thought a very indifferent sign of a writer's good sense, to disclaim his private friends for happening to be of a different party in politics; but it was then otherwise, the whig wits held the tory wits in great contempt, and these retaliated in their turn. At the head of one party were Addison, Steele, and Congreve; at that of the other, Pope, Swift, and Arbuthnot.-Parnell was a friend to both sides, and with a liberality becoming a scholar, scorned all those trifling distinctions, that are noisy for the time, and fidiculous to posterity. Nor did he emancipate himself from these without some opposition from home.- Having been the son of a commonwealth's man, his tory connexions on this side of the water gave his friends in Ireland great offence: they were much enraged to see him keep company with Pope, and Swift, and Gay; they blamed his undistinguishing taste, and wondered what pleasure he could find in the conversation of men who approved the treaty of Utrecht, and disliked the Duke of Marlborough. His conversation is said to have been extremely pleasing, but in what its peculiar excellence consisted is now unknown. The letters which were written to him by his friends, are full of compliments upon his talents as a companion, and his good-nature as a man. I have several of them now before me. Pope was particularly fond of his company, and seems to regret his absence more than any of the rest. A letter from him follows thus: "DEAR SIR, "London, July 29. Did I "I wish it were not as ungenerous as vain to complain too much of a man that forgets me, but I could expostulate with you a whole day upon your inhuman silence; I call it inhuman; nor would you think it less, if you were truly sensible of the uneasiness it gives me. know you so ill as to think you proud, I would be much less concerned than I am able to be, when I know one of the best-natured men alive neglects me; and if you know me so ill as to think amiss of me, with regard to my friendship for you, you really do not deserve. half the trouble you occasion me. I need not tell you, that both Mr Gay and myself have written several letters in vain; and that we were constantly inquiring, of all who have seen Ireland, if they saw you, and that (forgotten as we are) we are every day remembering you in our most agreeable hours. All this is true; as that we are sincerely lovers of you, and deplorers of your absence, and that we form no wish more ardently than that which brings you over to us, and places you in your old seat between us. We have lately had some distant hopes of the Dean's design to revisit England; will not you accompany him? or is England to lose every thing that has any charms for us, and must we pray for banishment as a benediction?—I have once been witness of some, I hope all of your splenetic hours: come, and be a comforter in your turn to me, in mine. I am in such an unsettled state, that I can't tell if I shall ever see you, unless it be this year: whether I do or not, be ever assured, you have as large a share of my thoughts and good wishes as any man, and as great a portion of gratitude in my heart as would enrich a monarch, could be know where to find it. I shall not die with out testifying something of this nature, and leav ing to the world a memorial of the friendship that has been so great a pleasure and pride to me. It would be like writing my own epitap to acquaint you with what I have lost since I saw you, what I have done, what I have thought, where I have lived, and where I now repose in obscurity. My friend Jervas, the with nine hundred pages, and nine thousand bearer of this, will inform you of all particulars contractions of the Greek characters, arose to concerning me; and Mr Ford is charged with view! Spondanus, with all his auxiliaries, a thousand loves, and a thousand complaints, in number a thousand pages, (value three shiland a thousand commissions to you on mylings,) and Dacier's three volumes, Barues's part. They will both tax you with the neglect of some promises which were too agreeable to us all to be forgot: if you care for any of us,tell them so, and write so to me. I can say no more, but that I love you, and am, in spite of the longest neglect of happiness, DEAR SIR, Your most faithful affectionate friend, A. POPE. Gay is in Devonshire, and from thence he goes to Bath. My father and mother never fail to commemorate you." Among the number of his most intimate friends was Lord Oxford, whom Pope has so finely complimented upon the delicacy of his choice. For him thou oft hast bid the world attend, Fond to forget the statesman in the friend; For Swift and him despised the farce of state, The sober follies of the wise and great; Dext'rous the craving, fawning crowd to quit, And pleased to 'scape from flattery to wit. Pope himself was not only excessively fond of his company, but under several literary obligations to him for his assistance in the translation of Homer. Gay was obliged to him upon another account; for, being always poor, he was not above receiving from Parnell the copy-money which the latter got for his writings. Several of their letters, now before me, are proofs of this; and as they have never appeared before, it is probable the reader will be much better pleased with their idle effusions, than with any thing I can hammer out for his amuse at two, Valterie's three, Cuperus, half in Greek, Leo Allatus, three parts in Greek, Scaliger, Macrobius, and (worse than them all) Aulus Gellius! All these rushed upon my soul at once, and whelmed me under a fit of the headach. I cursed them all religiously, damned my best friends among the rest, and even blasphemed. Homer himself. Dear Sir, not only as you are a friend, and a good-natured man, but as you are a Christian and a divine, come back speedily, and prevent the increase of my sins; for, at the rate I have begun to rave, I shall not only damn all the poets and commentators who have gone before me, but be damned myself by all who come after me.To be serious; you have not only left me to the last degree impatient for your return, who at all times should have been so, (though never so much as since I knew you in best health here,) but you have wrought several miracles upon our family; you have made old people fond of a young and gay person, and inveterate papists of a clergyman of the Church of England; even nurse herself is in danger of being in love in her old age, and (for all I know) would even marry Dennis for your sake, because he is your man, and loves his master. In short, come down forthwith, or give me good reasons for delaying, though but for a day or two, by the next post. If I find them just, I will come up to you, though you know how precious my time is at present; my hours were never worth so much money before; but perhaps you are not sensible of this, who give away your own works. You are a generous author; I a hackney scribbler: you a Grecian, and bred at a university; I a poor Englishman, of my own educating you a reverend parson, I a wag: in short, you are Dr Parnelle, (with an e at the end of your name,) and I : Your most obliged and affectionate "My hearty service to the Dean, Dr Arbuth not, Mr Ford, and the true genuine shepherd, J. Gay, of Devon. I expect him down with you." both for your health and your quiet; and no man living can be more truly concerned in any thing that touches either than myself. I would comfort myself, however, with hoping, your business may not be unsuccessful for your sake; and that at least it may soon be put into other proper hands. Formy own, I beg earnestly of you to return to us as soon as possible. You know how very much I want you; and that, however your business may depend upon any other, my business depends entirely upon you; and yet still I hope you will find your man, even though I lose you the mean while. At this time, the more I love you, the less I can spare you; which alone will, I dare say, be a reason to you to let me have you back the "I WRITE to you with the same warmth, The minute I lost you, Eustathius | the same zeal of good-will and friendship, with sooner. We may easily perceive by this, that Parnell was not a little necessary to Pope in conducting his translation; however, he has worded it so ambiguously, that it is impossible to bring the charge directly against him. But he is much more explicit when he mentions his friend Gay's obligations in another letter, which he takes no pains to conceal. "DEAR SIR, esteem and love for you never more deserved Most entirely, your affectionate, which I used to converse with you two years ago, From these letters to Parnell, we may con- "I beg our correspondence may be more frequent than it has been of late. I am sure my But though this method of quarrelling in his poems with his situation, served to relieve himself, yet it was not easily endured by the gentlemen of the neighbourhood, who did not care to confess themselves his fellow-sufferers. He received many mortifications upon that account among them; for, being naturally fond of company, he could not endure to be without even theirs, which, however, among his English friends he pretended to despise. In fact, his conduct, in this particular, was rather splenetic than wise, he had either lost the art to engage or did not employ his skill in securing those more permanent, though more humble connexions, and sacrificed, for a month or two in England, a whole year's happiness by his country fireside at home. However, what he permitted the world to |