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APPENDIX TO VOLUME I.

A. (PAGE 9.)

DOCTOR STREAN AND THE RE-
VEREND EDWARD MANGIN.

"forty years" wrote of him in the Standard newspaper of a few evenings later:

"Descended from a Huguenot family, who took refuge in Ireland from the persecution in the time of Louis XIV, and STREAN was a physician who who rose to opulent and important stahad taken orders. He died eleven Mangin had much of the manners of both tions in their adopted country, Mr. years ago, at nearly ninety years France and Ireland-foreign acuteness of of age. He then held the per-conversation, with a remarkable share of petual cure of St. Peter's in Irish gentleman. the pleasantry and good humour of the Athlone; but had in his early life "Educated at Oxford, for the Church, succeeded Henry Goldsmith in obtaining preferment in Ireland at an the curacy of Kilkenny West, early age, and always disposed to literawhich the latter occupied at the mence his career under happier auspices, ture and society, no man could comperiod of his death, and, as he is and no man enjoyed it with more manly careful to tell us, in its emolu- gratification. Possessing all the allowments of £40 a year, "which was and thus wanting the great stimulus to able indulgences of life without trouble, "not only his salary, but con- exertion, he published but little, and that "tinued to be the same when little rather as the overflow of a remark“I, a successor, was appointed of study or the effort of invention. The ably ingenious mind, than as the labour "to that parish." His relative lightness of such works naturally desby marriage, the Rev. Edward tines them to float away with the current Mangin, to whose intelligent in-publications on Manners, Travel and of authorship; but some of Mr. Mangin's quiries (the results of which are published in an Essay on Light Reading, 12mo. 1808) we owe much of our knowledge of the poet's youth, still lives in Bath.

Since I thus wrote, in a note appended to my first edition, the life of Mr. Mangin closed on the 17th of October, 1852, at the ripe age of eighty-one. A "friend of

Character, will be preserved, and now
form the melancholy pleasure of friends,
who retrace in them the liveliness, point,
and force of his conversation.
"Marrying early, but soon
left a
widower with an only daughter, worthy
tionately attached through life; after a
of him, and to whom he was affec-
long interval he married again, and has
left two sons, like himself educated at
Oxford, and now in the Church.

"Residing for many years in Bath, writing occasionally, associating with all

the common casualties of life, he rather glided through years than felt them.

the intelligent in that intelligent city, "volume. I refer to a passage easy in fortune, and scarcely visited by "in which you state my having "addressed my inquiries to Doc"His death was like his life-tranquil. "tor Strean twenty-five years He walked out the day before, sat with "ago.' I lament to say that his family during the evening, retired to rest with no appearance of an increase "more than forty years have of illness, and slept undisturbed during "passed since I put my queries the night. In that sleep, between seven to the Doctor; whose letter in

and eight next morning, he expired." "reply is, I observe, dated on

It will not perhaps be thought "the closing day of the year unbecoming, notwithstanding its "1807, and was introduced into expressions complimentary to "a brief forgotten Essay on Light myself, to subjoin a letter on the "Reading published in the spring subject of Goldsmith with which "of 1808.

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Mr. Mangin favoured me shortly "Upon a different occasion, I after the publication of this book. "have said that when he died, Its personal information and "Strean's age was almost ninety: anecdote may not be unwelcome "this is probably not correct; to my readers. "but I remember asking him 66 once how old he was, and his “BATH, Monday, April, 24, 1848. "saying that he could not an"SIR, I trust you will kindly "swer me exactly, but that what pardon my freedom in ventur-"he recollected longest was his "ing to trouble you with this, "mother's giving him, when in a "for which the least bad apology "child's dress, a black ribbon to "I can offer is the circumstance". 'wear round his waist, and re"of your having kindly men- "peating to him that it signified "tioned the writer in your lately "mourning for King George's ""published delightful work The "death. This, we know, oc"Life and Adventures of Oliver Gold-"curred in 1760, when we may "smith. "suppose the boy about seven "Your book will, beyond doubt,"years old; so, if born in 1753, "be generally sought for and re- "or 1754, and living till 1837, he "lished; and indeed cannot, I"was certainly above four-score. "should imagine, fail of a place "He was a man of considerable "in the collection of every one "attainments, and sundry re"who has a taste for genuine "sources; he was a well-grounded 'poetry, and discernment suf-"Greek and Latin scholar, and, "ficient to approve of your "which is more rare in Ireland, "labours in behalf of Goldsmith's "a good prosodian. He had a "renown. "thoroughly mechanical genius; "Excuse my pointing out a "he sometimes bound his own "minute oversight in the early "books; and had made, "part of your most interesting "very workman - like manner,

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"many articles of furniture in his "entry is concluded to be in the "parsonage-house. He was an "hand-writing of Oliver's father. "expert mathematician, and was "Your analysis of the Life and "valued as such by the learned "Strange surprising' Adven"Bishop Law of Elphin, with "tures of Goldsmith appears to "whom he corresponded on "me most ingeniously devised "their favourite science. The "and executed; the idea strikes "good bishop had, besides, a "me as being eminently happy "high opinion of him as a re-❝and new; and your book might "gular and conscientious pastor."well have been announced as. "Through Strean, I made ac-"the history of Oliver Gold"quaintance, in 1798, with an old "smith's mind, for such it really "friend of his, Anthony De-"is.

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"venish, who had been, I be "You rather intimate, to my "lieve, Goldsmith's school-fel-"great gratification, that you do "low, and used to enlarge on "not conceive Goldsmith to have "the Bard's dexterity in the craft "been understood by the persons "of ball-playing. "among whom he usually moved; "I also, in those times, met at "I own I have always thought he "Athlone a Doctor Nelligan, a was not, and that his ordinary 'cheerful, shrewd little man, deportment and powers of con"with much humour; and of him "versation are grossly misrepre"this story was in circulation:-"sented by several who have "Some one argued in his hear-"talked and scribbled so flip"ing, that Goldsmith must have "pantly about his peculiarities "written the Deserted Village in "and blunders. We had for"England, because the night-"merly at Upham's Library here "ingale is sketched in as a "(once Bull's), an assistant in the "feature in his rural picture, and “establishment of the name of "it is supposed that there are "Crute or Croot. He had filled “not any nightingales in Ireland. “the situation for many years, "Nelligan's retort was, that his "and was a clear-headed, ob"opponent's logic was defective; "serving old man. He often "for, by his mode of drawing an "amused me and others with "inference, it might be shown "anecdotes of the distinguished "that when Paradise Lost was "individuals known to him as "written the immortal author "frequenters of the Library; and "must have been in Hell. one day, speaking of Gold"As to the name of the birth-"smith, he told us that the poet 'place of the poet of Auburn, it "was eagerly greeted on his en"is unquestionably Pallis; the "trance, and always conversed "word, so spelled, was tran-" so pleasantly, that he had be"scribed from a leaf of the Gold-"hind his chair a crowd of re"smith family Bible; and the "spectful auditors and admirers.

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"Your efforts to uphold the beast Fiddleback, and made adieu to "fair fame of him who has be-pocket. This to be sure was but a scanty Cork with only five shillings in my "queathed to the national litera- allowance for man and horse towards a "ture the undying Vicar of Wake- journey of above a hundred miles; but I "field, &c, will, I hope, plead for did not despair, for I knew I must find "me, and prevail with you to "forgive this intrusion on the "part of 'Sir,

"Your most obt. humble

"servant,

"EDWARD MANGIN. "JOHN FORSTER, ESQ."

B. (PAGES 31-33.)

friends on the road.

"I recollected particularly an old and faithful acquaintance I made at college, who had often and earnestly pressed me to spend a summer with him, and he lived but eight miles from Cork. This circumstance of vicinity he would expatiate on to me with peculiar emphasis. 'We shall,' says he, enjoy the de'lights of both city and country, and 'you shall command my stable and my purse.'

"However, upon the way I met a poor woman all in tears, who told me her husband had been arrested for a debt he was not able to pay, and that his eight children must now starve, bereaved as they were of his industry, which had been

The letter to Mrs. Anne Gold-their only support. I thought myself at smith, which must be read with the allowance mentioned in the text, is here subjoined.

"MY DEAR MOTHER,

home, being not far from my good friend's house, and therefore parted with a moiety of all my store; and pray, mother, ought I not to have given her the other half-crown, for what she got would be of little use to her?-However, I soon arrived at the mansion of my affectionate friend, guarded by the vigilance of a huge mastiff, who flew at me and would have torn me to pieces but for the assistance of a woman, whose countenance was not less grim than that of the dog; yet she with great humanity relieved me rom the jaws of this Cerberus, and was prevailed on to carry up my name to her

"Without suffering me to wait long,

"If you will sit down and calmly listen to what I say, you shall be fully resolved in every one of those many questions you have asked me. I went to Cork and converted my horse, which you prize so much higher than Fiddleback, into cash, took my passage in a ship bound for America, and, at the same time, paid the captain for my freight and all the other expenses of my voyage. But it so hap-master. pened that the wind did not answer for three weeks; and you know, mother, that my old friend, who was then recovering I could not command the elements. My from a severe fit of sickness, came down misfortune was that when the wind in his night-cap, night-gown, and slippers, served I happened to be with a party in and embraced me with the most cordial the country, and my friend the captain welcome, showed me in, and, after giving never inquired after me, but set sail with me a history of his indisposition, assured as much indifference as if I had been on me that he considered himself peculiarly board. The remainder of my time I em- fortunate in having under his roof the ployed in the city and its environs, view-man he most loved on earth, and whose ing everything curious, and you know no one can starve while he has money in his pocket.

"Reduced, however, to my last two guineas, I began to think of my dear mother and friends whom I had left behind me, and so bought that generous

stay with him must, above all things, contribute to his perfect recovery. I now repented sorely I had not given the poor woman the other half-crown, as I thought all my bills of humanity would be punctually answered by this worthy man. I revealed to him my whole soul;

swer,

I opened to him all my distresses; and distress, and asking 'how he thought I freely owned that I had but one half-'could travel above a hundred miles crown in my pocket; but that now, like a 'upon one half-crown?' I begged to borship after weathering out the storm, I row a single guinea, which I assured him considered myself secure in a safe and should be repaid with thanks. 'And hospitable harbour. He made no an- you know, sir,' said I, 'it is no more but walked about the room, rub- 'than I have often done for you.' To bing his hands as one in deep study. which he firmly answered, 'Why look This I imputed to the sympathetic feel- you, Mr. Goldsmith, that is neither here ings of a tender heart, which increased 'nor there. I have paid you all you ever my esteem for him, and, as that in- 'lent me, and this sickness of mine has creased, I gave the most favourable inter- 'left me bare of cash. But I have bepretation to his silence. I construed it thought myself of a conveyance for you; into delicacy of sentiment, as if he dreaded sell your horse, and I will furnish you to wound my pride by expressing his 'with a much better one to ride on.' I commiseration in words, leaving his readily grasped at this proposal, and generous conduct to speak for itself. begged to see the nag, on which he led me to his bedchamber, and from under the bed he pulled out a stout oak stick. 'Here he is,' said he; 'take this in your hand, and it will carry you to your 'mother's with more safety than such a 'horse as you ride.' I was in doubt, when I got it into my hand, whether Í should not, in the first place, apply it to his pate; but a rap at the street-door made the wretch fly to it, and when I returned to the parlour, he introduced me, as if nothing of the kind had happened, to the gentleman who entered, as Mr. Goldsmith, most ingenious and worthy friend, of whom he had so often heard him speak with rapture. I could scarcely compose myself; and must have betrayed indignation in my mien to the stranger, who was a counsellor at law in the neighbourhood, a man of engaging aspect and polite address.

"It now approached six o'clock in the evening, and as I had eaten no breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my appetite for dinner grew uncommonly keen. At length the old woman came into the room with two plates, one spoon, and a dirty cloth, which she laid upon the

table. This
without in-
appearance,
creasing my spirits, did not diminish
my
appetite. My protectress soon returned
with a small bowl of sago, a small por-
ringer of sour milk, a loaf of stale brown
bread, and the heel of an old cheese all
over crawling with mites. My friend
apologised that his illness obliged him to
live on slops, and that better fare was not
in the house; observing, at the same
time, that a milk diet was certainly the
most healthful. At eight o'clock he again
recommended a regular life, declaring
that for his part he would lie down with
the lamb and rise with the lark. My hunger
was at this time so exceedingly sharp
that I wished for another slice of the
loaf, but was obliged to go to bed with-
out even that refreshment.

his

"After spending an hour, he asked my friend and me to dine with him at his house. This I declined at first, as I wished to have no further communication with my hospitable friend; but at the "This lenten entertainment I had re- solicitation of both I at last consented, ceived made me resolve to depart as soon determined as I was by two motives; as possible; accordingly next morning, one, that I was prejudiced in favour of when I spoke of going, he did not oppose the looks and manner of the counsellor: my resolution; he rather commended my and the other, that I stood in need of a design, adding some very sage counsel comfortable dinner. And there indeed I upon the occasion. To be sure,' said found everything that I could wish, he, 'the longer you stay away from your abundance without profusion, and ele'mother the more you will grieve her gance without affectation. In the evenand your other friends; and possibly ing, when my old friend, who had eaten they are already afflicted at hearing of very plentifully at his neighbour's table, 'this foolish expedition you have made.' but talked again of lying down with the Notwithstanding all this, and without lamb, made a motion to me for retiring, any hope of softening such a sordid our generous host requested I should heart, I again renewed the tale of my take a bed with him, upon which I plainly

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