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 the young editor, and Congreve, generous as Swift, wrote a paper for him, in spite of his blindness. Nothing was left undone that might ensure the success of the venture. One night Swift confides in Stella that he is "tired with correcting Harrison's trash," and that he is afraid that the little toad has not the vein for it. Indeed he had not, and no sooner was Swift convinced of his inaptitude than he began to seek other employment for him. Already he had made him known to St John and Harley, and through their influence obtained for him a secretary's post at the Hague; but young Harrison, doomed to misfortune, came back from Holland only to die. Swift was tireless in help until the end, and sketched the last scene in a letter to Stella. "I took Parnell this morning," he wrote, "and we walked to see poor Harrison. I had the hundred pounds in my pocket. I told Parnell I was afraid to knock at the door; my mind misgave me. I knocked, and his man told me his master was dead an hour before."

And when Swift went an exile into

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