possible for a young bricklayer to produce it. These doubts, however, soon vanished, as he proceeded to create more and better things, and he was frequently invited to the corporation table and treated with civility and atten tion. But he had evidently dreams beyond those of a mere local poet, and finding that a number of workmen were required in Dublin for the repair of the parliament house, he journeyed thither. Wiser than in later years he at first trusted to his trade rather than to his pen, but in good time an opportunity offered, and he addressed a set of verses to Lord Chesterfield, then just arrived in Dublin | as lord-lieutenant. Lord Chesterfield was pleased with the poem, and, sending for the author, rewarded him liberally and took him under his protection. When his lordship returned to England, Jones followed him at his desire. On leaving Ireland Jones brought with him several poetical pieces, which he proceeded to revise and polish. He also brought the sketch of a drama to be entitled The Earl of Essex, at which he laboured in the leisure Lord Chesterfield's bounty gave him until he felt it was complete. The finished work pleased his patron-no mean critic-very much, and his lordship introduced both work and author to Colley Cibber. Cibber at once became the warm friend of the rustic poet, and introduced him to the manager of Covent Garden Theatre. Strange to say, on the day the manager received the manuscript of Jones's tragedy Dr. Francis's tragedy Constantine was also placed in his hands. Then arose a difficulty as to which should be produced first, but after long argument on both sides the matter was settled in a rough-and-ready way by tossing a shilling. Jones won, and his drama was produced in the January of 1753. It was at once a great success, drawing very full houses for fifteen nights, and producing the author on his benefit over five hundred pounds. Before this he had published a volume of his poems by subscription, which were also successful, and the world lay now before him half conquered. Alas! his sudden rise seems to have robbed him of his prudence, and he gave way to idleness and dissipation. After a time he began the downward course of borrowing sums of money from his friends, and one day he had the extreme folly to borrow eight guineas from the servant-man of his patron Lord Chesterfield. From that time | | forward his lordship refused to see him, and his field for borrowing growing narrower and narrower, he was forced to turn to work. So soon, however, as he had made some progress with a new tragedy, Harold, he began to raise money upon it, and before it was thoroughly finished it was out of his control and pledged to three or four. Meanwhile he wrote many short pieces of poetry, addressed complimentary verses to some of the players, and wrote at least one prologue. He also began work on a third drama, The Cave of Idru, but before this was completed he paid several enforced visits to different sponging-houses. While in these places he generally bought some comfort by finding out the weakness of his keepers, and flattering their wives or daughters with verses full of praise and smartness. Gradually the clouds thickened round him, and it would seem that even were he inclined to work his pressing momentary necessities left him no time to do so. He fell from low to lower, until at last the proprietor of a coffee-house took pity on him, gave him a room in his house, and offered him free board whenever he might require it. Jones accepted the offer, but after a time the life in the coffeehouse became irksome to him and he suddenly left it. For two days afterwards he continued in a state of drunkenness, and while in this condition he was run over by a waggon in St. Martin's Lane. Being carried to the parish workhouse, he died after lingering a few days, in April, 1770. After his death The Cave of Idra was produced successfully under the care of his friend Dr. Hifferman; but Harold, which by the critics who had seen it was considered his masterpiece, never saw the light. Mr. Reddish, of Drury Lane, had obtained the manuscript of it, together with other things of the author's, but subsequently becoming insane, it is believed he committed it and other valuables to the flames. If we take into account the fact that Jones received in early life an education enabling him simply to read and write--if we remember that he would never afterwards stoop to study and if we then read an act of The Earl of Essex, we must acknowledge him to have been a real genius. Indeed, a writer of the last century who thought a good deal of himself acknowledges this, but believes that "he was too much praised, just like another rustic genius (one Burns), whom people were praising to the skies only because he had no education!"] ESSEX AND THE QUEEN.1 The QUEEN on her throne. Enter LORD BURLEIGH, SIR WALTER RALEIGH, and others. I've serv'd you, madam, with the utmost peril, Lord B. The Earl of Essex waits your royal | Aloud for mutual treaty and condition; will. I first from your own royal hand receiv'd; To hands unworthy. No, my gracious queen, For that I stand a guarded felon here-a traitor, cious, Her front uplift against the face of power? Earl E. Away with dignities and hated trust, mand. Take, take your gaudy trifles back, those baits Queen. Presuming wretch! audacious traitor! Queen. Hence from my sight, ungrateful slave, At distance to revere your queen. Queen. High swelling words, my lord, but ill Me fly beyond the limits of the world, supply The place of deeds and duty's just demand. How far my duty and my valour lead me. Earl E. Oh! deadly stroke! My life's the des- The poison'd shaft has sunk my spirits deep! 1 This and the next scene are from The Earl of Essex. And nature's verge, from proud oppression far, [Strikes him. Earl E. Confusion! what, a blow! And judgment take the reins. Madam, 'tis well- His glory's tarnish'd, and his fame undone. Beyond thy wretched purpose stands secure. [Exeunt all but Earl E. and Earl S. Earl E. Disgrac'd and struck! Damnation! Death were glorious! Revenge! revenge! Earl S. Alas! my friend, what would A CRUEL TRAITRESS.' The Court. Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and LORD BURLEIGH. Queen. Despatch a speedy messenger to haste her. So near the brink of fate-unhappy man! Enter COUNTESS OF NOTTINGHAM. Coun. N. He rather seem'd insensible to both, What! said he nothing of a private import? Coun. N. None, madam; But with contemptuous front disclaim'd at once Queen. Impossible! Could Essex treat me thus? You basely wrong him, And wrest his meaning from the purpos'd point. Against the pleadings of my pitying soul I must declare (Heav'n knows with what reluct- That never pride insulted mercy more. To favourite lords, to whom he falls a sacrifice; How, now, my Nottingham, what news from Appeals to justice and to future times, Essex? What says the Earl? Coun. N. I wish, with all my soul, Th' ungrateful task had been another's lot. I dread to tell it-lost, ill-fated man! How much he feels from proud oppression's arm: Queen. Eternal silence seal thy venom'd lips! Queen. What means this mystery, this strange A whirlwind in my soul, which roots up pity behaviour? Pronounce declare at once; what said the Earl? Coun. N. Alas, my queen! I fear to say; his mind Is in the strangest mood, that ever pride And destroys my peace? Let him this instant to the block be led. [Exit Countess N. Upbraid me with my fatal fondness for him! Ungrateful, barbarous ruffian! Oh, Elizabeth! On blackest thoughts begot. He scarce would Remember now thy long-establish'd fame, speak, And when he did, it was with sullenness, With hasty tone, and downcast look. Queen. Amazing! Not feel the terrors of approaching death! The author here reproduces in dramatic form the wellknown story of the ring, which, in the height of his favour, the earl had received from the queen, as a pledge, on the return of which she would pardon any offence he might Thy envy'd glory, and thy father's spirit. Yes, I'll this instant to the Tower, forget [Erit. commit. This ring he is said to have sent by his relative the Countess of Nottingham, but his enemies would not suffer her to deliver it, and thereby the proffered clemency was frustrated. PATRICK DELANY. BORN 1686-DIED 1768. [Patrick Delany, D.D., celebrated as a wit and man of learning, fit to sit side by side with Swift and Gay, Pope and Steele, was born of humble parents in the year 1686. His father was at first a domestic in the house of Sir John Rennel, an Irish judge, but afterwards becoming a tenant farmer in a small way, used every effort to have his son educated. In this he succeeded, and had the satisfaction of seeing his beloved Patrick at the proper age enter as a sizar in Trinity College. In due course young Delany took the usual degrees, and was after a time chosen a fellow of the college. Before this he had become acquainted with Swift, who, with a strong recommendation, introduced him to Lord Carteret on that nobleman's arrival in Ireland as lordlieutenant. Lord Carteret soon became so pleased with the charm of Delany's manner and conversation that he had him almost constantly at the castle. At this time his fellowship and the fees of his pupils brought him in about £1000 a year, but, being of a hot temper, he got into a dispute in which he took the weaker side, and was forced to apologize to the provost of the college. This made his position irksome, and he would gladly have accepted a place with less emolument. In 1725 he was presented to the parish of St. John, and a royal dispensation became necessary to enable him to hold the benefice along with his fellowship. Here the Archbishop of Dublin and Primate Boulter, worked on by his enemies, interfered, and the dispensation was refused. However, in 1727 he resigned his fellowship, and the university presented him with a living in the north. Lord Carteret promoted him to the chancellorship of Christ Church, and in 1730 gave him a prebend in St. Patrick's Cathedral. In 1729, a year before this last event, Delany began a paper called The Tribune, which was continued for some twenty numbers. In 1731 he visited London to arrange for the publication of his most important work, Revelation Examined with Candour, the first volume of which appeared in 1732. While in London he married Mrs. Tenison, a widow lady of his own country with a large fortune. | On his return to Dublin he showed his love for the university by presenting its authorities with a sum of money sufficient to enable them to distribute £20 a year among the needier students. In 1734 appeared the second volume of his Revelation Examined, which was so well received that a third edition had to be issued before the end of 1735. In 1738 appeared his most curious work, "Reflections on Polygamy, and the Encouragement given to that Practice in the Scriptures of the Old Testament." His next work was An Historical Account of the Life and Reign of David, King of Israel, the first volume of which appeared in 1740, and the second and third in 1742. In 1741 Delany's first wife died, and in 1743 he married Mrs. Pendarves, a very excellent and clever woman. In 1744 he was preferred to the deanery of Down, and the same year published a volume of most readable and valuable sermons on the Social Duties of Life. A second edition was called for in 1747, when he added to the original fifteen sermons five more on the Vices. In 1748 appeared his pamphlet on the Divine Original of Tythes, after the production of which he seems to have rested for a time, as if its dialectic subtleties had been rather much for him. He was drawn from his retirement by the publication of the Earl of Orrery's Remarks on the Life and Writings of Swift, a work contemptible in point of style, and in which the great dean was assailed all through as if by one who wished yet feared to strike. He immediately issued a pamphlet, Critiques on Orrery's Life of Swift, in defence of his friend, which was highly successful, and in which a better idea of the dean and his works can be obtained than in any work previous to the capital life by Sir Walter Scott. In this year (1754) he published another volume of sermons, chiefly practical. These were considered highly valuable, two of them on the folly, guilt, and absurdity of duelling being frequently quoted and reprinted. In 1757 he began a periodical called The Humanist, which ended with the fifteenth number, and in 1761 he published several additional sermons and a tract entitled An Humble Apology for Christian Orthodoxy. In 1763, after the long interval of nearly thirty years from the appearance of the first volume of Revelation Examined with Candour, he completed and published the third and aversions, to be happy in each other's happiness, and miserable in each other's misery, are the strongest engagements, and the surest foundations of entire friendship and perfect affection, that can possibly be imagined. final volume of that work. In 1766 he pub- | very same interest, the same desires and lished his last work, Eighteen Discourses, many of which were republished in 1791 in a popular work, entitled Family Lectures. In 1768 Dr. Delany was at Bath for the benefit of his health, and there, in May of that year, he died, in the eighty-third year of his age. In private life Dr. Delany was remarkable for the wit, simplicity, hospitality, and generosity of his character. Of his works one critic says that they are "too fanciful and speculative to be useful to the cause of religion. His style also," continues this critic, "was too florid and declamatory, more likely to dazzle than to convince." Another critic says that the third volume of his great work exhibits "numerous instances of the prevalence of imagination over judgment." The same critic, however, in speaking of his Life of David, says that "it is an ingenious and learned performance. It is written with spirit; there are some curious and valuable criticisms in it, and many of the remarks in answer to Boyle are well founded." The work on revelation is, however, still studied and esteemed; and even if it were not, Delany deserves to be remembered for Swift's saying that "he was one of the very few within my knowledge on whom an access of fortune hath made no change." His wife, whom he regarded with adoration, survived him twenty years.] THE DUTIES OF A WIFE.1 First, she is to love her husband, and that upon the same principles, and for the very same reason, that he is to love her. First, because they are one flesh; for this cause shall a man leave father and mother and cleave unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh. And in truth, they are joined together upon terms of as entire and thorough a communion as if they were one soul and one body. And, secondly, because their interests are in all respects perfectly the same, which is the truest foundation of friendship. The husband's happiness naturally tends to make the wife happy at the same time, and his misery to make her miserable; his riches make her rich; and his poverty makes her poor. It is always their interest to wish and avoid, to desire and to detest the same things; and surely to have the 1 This and the following extract are from Family Lectures, containing his latest sermons, republished in 1791. Secondly, she is to be faithful to him; and as the reasons of fidelity are the same both in the husband and in the wife, the crime of infidelity is more shameful and scandalous in the woman; because it is committed against the rules of a more reserved and virtuous education, and against the natural decency and modesty of the sex, and, at the same time, is of far worse consequence to the honour of families, because it brings a lasting stain of infamy along with it; and what is worse than all this, it often robs the right heir of his inheritance, and substitutes a spurious offspring into his place--an injury that is the more to be dreaded and avoided, because when once it is committed it is impossible to be repaired. Thus much, however, may be said in honour of that sex, that this crime is less frequent among them, and rarely committed till the husband's infidelity or ill conduct hath first provoked to it. And this is the true reason why the infidelity of the wife reflects so much scandal and dishonour upon the husband, because (generally speaking) his own vices and ill conduct have brought the evil upon him. And, therefore, the only true way of securing your own reputation in this point, as well as your wife's virtue and the honour of your family, is to behave yourself with so much fidelity and tenderness towards her as may entirely engage her affections, as well as her conscience, to you and you only. And, indeed, let any man reflect seriously upon the treatment the generality of wives meet with from their husbands, and then think impartially whether they have not too much reason to be provoked at their rudeness and neglect. Before marriage they are adored and preferred before all the world; but soon, very soon after, they are slighted and disregarded, as if they were unworthy of common esteem; and they are slighted for the very same reasons for which they should be respectfully and tenderly treated. They observe at the same time that their husbands can still treat other women with respect and complaisance, and that other men still continue to use them with respect and complaisance, and none but the husband slights and despises them, as if marriage, which is the strongest |