We do, in fact, know it to be true,--even though it be admitted that there is still room left for a book to be written on the life of the fearful dean.

Here was a man endued with an intellect pellucid as well as brilliant; who could not only conceive but see also,--with some fine instincts too; whom fortune did not flout; whom circumstances fairly served; but who, from first to last, was miserable himself, who made others miserable, and who deserved misery.

Our business, during the page or two which we can give to the subject, is not with Swift but with Thackeray's picture of Swift.

It is painted with colours terribly strong and with shadows fearfully deep.

"Would you like to have lived with him ?" Thackeray asks.