the Dean in things of
that nature. After the circulation of the finest wines, the most
judicious remarks on charity and its abuse were introduced, and it was
agreed that the proper objects of liberal relief were well-educated
families, who from affluence, or the expectation of it, were reduced
through misfortune to silent despair. The Dean then divided the sum by
the number of his guests, and addressed them according to their
respective private characters, with which no one was, perhaps, better
acquainted. "You, my Lords," said the Dean to several young noblemen, "I
wish to introduce to some new acquaintance, who will at least make their
acknowledgment for your favors with sincerity. You, my reverend Lords,"
addressing the bishops present, "adhere so closely to the spirit of the
Scriptures, that your left hands are literally ignorant of the
beneficence of your right. You, my Lord of Kildare, and the two noble
lords near you, I will not entrust with any part of this money, as you
have been long in the _usurious_ habits of lending your own on such
occasions; but your assistance, my Lord of Kerry, I must entreat, as
charity covereth a multitude of sins."

SWIFT AND BETTESWORTH.

Dean Swift having taken a strong dislike to Sergeant Bettesworth,
revenged himself by the following lines in one of his poems:

So at the bar the booby Bettesworth,
Tho' half-a-crown outpays his sweat's worth,
Who knows in law nor text nor margent,
Calls Singleton his brother sergeant.

The poem was sent to Bettesworth, when he was in company with some of
his friends. He read it aloud, till he had finished the lines relating
to himself. He then flung it down with great violence, trembled and
turned pale. After some pause, his rage for a while depriving him of
utterance, he took out his penknife, and swore he would cut off the
Dean's ears with it. Soon after he went to seek the Dean at his house;
and not finding him at home, followed him to a friend's, where he had an
interview with him. Upon entering the room, Swift desired to know his
commands. "Sir," says he, "I am Sergeant Bet-tes-worth;" in his usual
pompous way of pronouncing his name in three distinct syllables. "Of
what regiment, pray?" says Swift. "O, Mr. Dean, we know your powers of
raillery; you know me well enough, that I am one of his majesty's
sergeants-at-law." "What then, sir?" "Why then, sir, I am come to demand
of you, whether you are the author of this poem