history concerning two celebrated Jadies, Mrs. Johnson and Miss Vonhomrigh (better known to the world by the names of Stella& Van for the discovery. Stella complied with these conditious, knowing the inflexibility of Swift's resoTM lutions; and Swift was led to offer her character's suffring from the manner of living with him. A great many small matters have been attributed to swift; and added to his works, which were not of his production: many light things he undoubtly wrote, but not with an intention of giving them to the world; on this subject Mr. Sheridan says, Swift agreed with an intimate friend, that they should for one whole year, write to each other every day, and were to be upon honor that they would take Essa) is satisfactorily cleared up,them to quiet apprehensions about but the columns of a newspaper is rather too confined to enter tho roughly into his business;two maxims of Swift with regard to matrimony is all that will be offered. One was, never to marry, unless he was beforehand, possessed of a decent provision for a family, another was unless this should be the case of a time of life when he might resonably expect to breed up his children and see them, properly entered into the world. With regard to the first article, he was so far from having any thing beforehand, in Stella's time, tha he was still in debt; and the small preferment he had obtained, gave him but little prospect of ever accumulating a fortune. And as to the second, he had already passed that period of life, after which it was his fixed resolution never to marry. Could Swift have entered into a state of wedlock consistent-few however, have escaped, and ly with these principles, Stella, no doubt, would have been the woman of his choice. Swift actually went Through the ceremony of marriage with Stella, but it was on two conditions. The first was, that they should continue to live separateby, exactly in the manner they were used to do before; the second that it should be kept a profound secret from all the world, unless some urgent necessity should call up no more than five minutes in composing each letter, Numbers of riddles, anglo-latin letters aud other whims of fancy were produced in this way. But as these were only intended for private amusement, most of them when they had served their torn were commited to the flames.Some are printed in his works, which may serve to gratify the curosity of such readers, as may be desirous to have a private peep, as it were, at the fancy of this great and genius, when frolicsome unrestrained she was playing, her sportive gambol, endesh abille. "As a writer says,' says Donaldson in his Edinburgh edition, 1766, "Swift had no equal, His style is mostly correct, and strong--never diffusive, yet always clear: and if we consider it in comparison of his predecessors, he has outdone them all, and is one, perhaps the chief, of those few select writers, who have excelled in elegance and propriety of language. In politics, his favourite topic, he appears like a masterly gladiator; he wields the sword. of party with ease, justness, and dexterity; and while he entertains the ignorant and the vulgar, he draws an equal attention from the learned and the great, When he is serious, his gravity becomes him, when he laughs, his readers must laugh with him. In poetry he would not take pains to excel, but became, in some measure, superior to it,and assumed more the air and manner of a Critic than a poet.. To conclude---I agree with Sheridan, that no man ever deserved better of any country than Swift did of his, a steady, preserving, inflexible friend, a wise, and watchful, and a faithful counsellor under many severe trials, and persecutions, to the manifest hazard both of his liberty and fortune. He lived a blessing, he died a benefactor, and his name will ever live an honour to Ireland: ARTHUR, JONATHAN SWIFT, afterwards the celebrated Dean of St. Patrick's, was born on the 30th of No vember, 1667, in Hoey's-court, Dublin. When he was but a year old, he was, without the knowledge of his mother or relations, stolen away by his nurse, and carried to Whitehaven; which place she was under a necessity of visiting, on account of the illness of a relation from whom she expected a legacy; and, as is usual among Irish nurses, she bore such an af fection, to the child, that she could not think of going without him. There he continued for almost three years; and she took such care of him, that he had learned to spell, and could read. any chapter in the bible before he was five years old. At the age of six he was sent to the school of Kilkenny: and at 14 admitted into the University of Dublin. The expense of his education being defrayed by his uncle Goodwin Swift: Goodwin was a lawyer of great eminence, and had made considerable sums of money, which were for the most part squandered away in idie projects. By means of which, scon after his nephew had entered the college, he found himself involved in great difficulties; and being father of a numerous offspring by four wives, he was under the necessity of reducing the stipend allowed to his nephew, for his support at the university, as low as possible. (To be Continued.) THE OBSERVER, NUMBER IV. The breast that happiness bestows, Although much of our happi. ness, results from our acting according to that divine precept, 'Do unto others as you would they should Do unto you ;'-yet it fre frequently eludes the memory of many, who exchange the pleasure derived from acting on it, for the sensual gratifications of the viscious propensities of these debased minds; and so intermixed is the human family, the vicious and the virtuous, with one another,--that difficulties will occur, because the difference of their principles of action, is as great as Day and Night. was distressed in finances, and he wished to relieve him; (for Stern could not be happy while a friend was distress'd,) but it was not in his power, at that time. Yet the friend-a friend must be relieved at all hazards; a friend is sacred; Sterne finds no rest till it is done. How often do we perceive families, in which nothing is known but continual discord and contention. One party will not bear the most gentle rebuke from the other, and one refuses to give to the other, even the complaisance duc: which they would not hesitate to bestow on a stranger-nay to harrass and distress, appears the great aim ;-to disturb the peace,destroys the usefulness,-and render miserable, the scope of many. No wonder,contentment flies from such habitations, and woe-appears as the scourge of their lives. 'I was' says he 'obliged to borrow two hundred pounds beyond my own currency upon the occa sion. I had no sufficient security to offer: But Capt. Le Fever happened just to have sold out of the army; I mortgaged the story to him, and he lent me the money. Sterne and his friend were both relieved. but Sterne was happiest of the two.' I should doubt the professed friendship of a man, who triffles with my feelings, and tantalizes me till I weep; then telling me 'tis merely in kindness-Hume thot it not unbecoming the character of a hero to melt into tears at distress. Benevolence to our friends. delineates the image of a noble mind —The following fact is men tioned of Sterne.-A friend of his, t He thus gives an affecting pic ture of Ullyses weeping over his favorite Argus, when he expires at his feet. Soft pity touch'd the mighty master's soul: Adown his cheek the tear unbidden Stole unperceiv'd, he turn'd his head, But the soft tear in pity's eye, Outshines the diamond's brightest beams. There never was a more elegant intellectual display of Humanity, than is recorded in the sacred scripture,of our Divine Redeemer, who is represented at the grave of his deceased friend Lazarus; it was surrounded by the weeping friends of the deceased,-his two sisters were present-they both wept, the saviour himself did not refrain, for it is said, Jesus wept. Poor is the friendless master of a world: A world in purchase for a friend is gain. But magnanimity shines forth in the forgiveness of an enemy,this may be said to be the hardest duty we are called to discharge, but if it is, it affords one of the sweetest rewards. A man having forgiven a foe, may retire to his closet, and enjoy the satisfaction of having conquered one of the most powerful propensities of his nature,-he can congratulate himself on having conquer'd his own spirit for revenge, for the seeds from whence it springs, lurks in every bosom. Scipio will ever be venerated for that noble action, when he liberated the captive maid, and her lover, though he admired her himself, and had the excercise of power. I lately heard the following anecdote related to me as a fact, which happen'd in the colony of N. Y. before the late revolutionary war.-A man by the name of Rowland had deserted, and was afterwards taken,-tried by a court martial, and condemned. On the day of execution he was placed in the position for death,—the company surrounded him, and six men by lot were chosen to fire the fatal bullets,-when the word was given to make ready, the commanding officer went up to him and said,- Rowland put the cap over your face.'-The man did so. All eyes were fixed on the interesting spectacle.-Rowland! said the officer, Sir! answer'd the condemned soldier, in a firm tone of voice. The king grants you a free pardon.-He immediately fell on the ground, took the cap from his face, crept toward the officer, and kissed his feet. The serious minded reader in spiritualizing this anecdote,-will find a sweet consolation flow into his bosom, worthy the enjoyment of a rational and intelligent crea ture. The practice of young men's moving along in groupes, and insulting females in the streets, especially on Sunday evening, deserves most certainly the severest reprehension ;--it is a humiliating reflection to a generous mind, that there are men, who take pleasure in abusing women, while going or returning from their proper avocations -but that' men's mind must be low and debased indeed, who pursues such a disposition to gratification. It is said by many, that they do it only to terrify and frighten the female sex. The writer of this was lately informed-that a young Gentleman had a short time past met a young women, and having taken her up in his arms and tarn ed her round two or three times; then ran away, and all in sport. It would be well for such prac. titioners, if they would abandon such mean pursuits, and act the more manly part. Surely were they personallv known to the public, shame would be the reward of their folly and imprudence. From the desk of poor Robert the Scribe One afternoon in the month of October, a young gentleman from Philadelphia, who had visited Luzerne to enjoy the pleasures of the chase, was standing with his rifle on the verge of one of those high precipices which bound the river Susquehanna, watching the cagle as she sailed far below him along the breast of the cliff, when he was suddenly awakened from his reverie by the shriek of a female voice. Turning suddenly around, he saw a young horse, which being frightened, had run away with his rider, and was rushing impetuously towards the precipice. He was too far off even to attempt to throw himself before the affrighted animal. One expedient only presented itself. With unerring aim he 'drew up his rifle, and the horse fell on the very brink of the cliff. The stranger ran to the assistance of the unfortunate female. Though pale as the tenant of the grave, a lovlier object never met his view. Her dark hair fell loosely on her cold bosom. She was lifeless. He raised her in his arms, and bore her to the hamlet at the foot of the hill. By the assistance of the cottagers, Mary was soon sufficiently restored to be removed to the house of her father, which was not far distant. A fever ensued, and William, whose extensive studies. had given him some knowledge in medicine, attracted by a charm which he could neither resist nor define, resolved to remain and prescribe for Mary until her fate. should be determined. Mary was just eighteen, when the accident happened which introduced the accomplished and fascinating stranger to her know, ledge. By his kindness, and that of her parents, she slowly recover ed, but the lively radience of her fine blue eyes was changed to a mild and pensive sweetness, less dazzling; but, oh! to the heart of sensibility, how interesting. The lilly stole the rose's blossom, the throbbing heart, and expressive flush that rose when William entered the room, too plainly told, that love, obtrusive urchin, had left the city, and entered the cottage of Mary with the stranger. William was the most accomplished man Mary had ever seen, Pleasing in his manners, insinuat |