collect me, I found his heart as warm as ever; and he shared his purse and his friendship with me during his continuance in London."

By this means Goldsmith obtained the situation of usher in the school of Dr. Milner, at Peckham. He did not long continue in that situation, which he never afterwards could bear to hear mentioned, without throwing himself into a passion, but removed to London, took lodgings in Green Arbour Court, and became a writer for the booksellers. It is said, indeed, that on the death of Dr. Milner,' in 1760, Goldsmith undertook the superintendance of the school for the widow, who allowed him twenty pounds a year, out of which he gave so liberally to objects in distress, that his salary was spent before it became due. This induced Mrs. Milner to say to him, "You had better, Mr. Goldsmith, let me keep your money for you, as I do for some of the young gentlemen," to which he replied, with great good humour, "In truth, Madam, there is equal need."

His continuance at Peckham must have been of short duration, for we find him engaged with Griffiths as a writer in the Monthly Review, also with Smollet in the Critical Review, besides other publications. The friendship of Smollet procured him the acquaintance of several other men of literary eminence, particularly Johnson. By his advice Goldsmith published the poem of the "Traveller," of which Jolinson had a high opinion:

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opinion and when a person in his company was saying, "that it was a pretty poem;" he caught fire, and exclaimed, "So, you only call it a pretty poem, do you? Let me tell you, Sir, it is the finest poem since Mr. Pope's time."

A little before this Johnson disposed of the novel of the "Vicar of Wakefield," for Goldsmith, to Newbery, the bookseller, in a very remarkable manner. The circumstance was thus:

"I received one morning," said Johnson, " message from poor Goldsmith, that he was in great distress, and, as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him, as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised, to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was drest, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told

me, that he had a novel ready for the

press, which he produced to me. I looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady I should soon return, and having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating bis landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill."

The bookseller, however, did not bring out the novel till Goldsmith's reputation was established by his poem of the Traveller. It was received with the applause to which it was entitled, and, in truth, it is impossible to praise this instructive and entertaining moral tale beyond its merits.

Goldsmith now took chambers in the Temple, and joined with a countryman of his, in a small house on the Edgware road, to which he gave the name of Shoemaker's Paradise, it having been built in a whimsical stile by a person of that occupation.

At this latter place he composed a "History of England, in a series of Letters from a Nobleman to his Son," in two volumes, duodecimo. This useful and pleasing little work, was very well received, and passed for a long time as the performance of Lord Lyttelton.

In 1768, Gold

smith brought out at Covent Garden, a comedy, called, "The Good Natured Man," which however, was not very successful, owing partly to the defects of the plot, and the perverted taste of the publick, which was then extravagantly fond of sentimental pieces.

The poetical fame of Goldsmith attained its summit in 1770, by the publication, of that delightful piece, "The Deserted Village."

The bookseller at once offered the author one hundred guineas for this poem, which he thought too much, and refused to take, saying it was five shillings

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shillings a couplet, which was more than any modern poetry was worth.

But whatever may be the value of modern poetry in general, the publick soon gave a convincing proof of the excellence of the "Deserted Village." Several large impressions were sold; and the bookseller paid Goldsmith his full sum.

In 1772, appeared his comedy of " She Stoops to Conquer," which, for broad humour, stands among the first of that class of dramatick compositions.

Colman, the manager, however, had but indifferent hopes of its success, and even the performers gave the author but little encouragement. On the night of performance Goldsmith, instead of attending the house early, walked the park in great agitation. There he was found by a friend who urged the necessity of his going to the theatre to see how the piece went on. Immediately on his entrance behind the scenes, the audience hissed that part where Mrs. Hardcastle supposes herself fifty miles off. Goldsmith, in great alarm, exclaimed to Colman, "What's that? What's that?" -"Pshaw, doctor," says the manager, "don't be alarmed at a few squibs, when we have been sitting these two hours upon a barrel of gunpowder."

The play, notwithstanding this, went off with great applause, and the author cleared by it eight hundred pounds.

But though it succeeded so well on the stage,

it was attacked with great severity, in some of the publick prints, particularly in one published by Evans the bookseller, and conducted by the noted Dr. Kenrick. It happened at this time that Goldsmith, who was always vain of a very ordinary person, dressed beauishly to make himself agreeable to a lady of fortune, with whose brother he was intimate. The critic in censuring his play, did not overlook this circumstance, and in language which nothing could excuse, compared the author to the monkey in the fable who went to see the world. Goldsmith was highly exaspe rated at this attack, and with his usual want of consideration, hastened to Paternoster Row, where poor Evans happened to be in his shop, whom the doctor, in great wrath, immediately assailed with a volley of execrations, at the same time elevating his cane, which striking against the lamp, broke it all to pieces, the oil pouring down upon Goldsmith's clothes. Evans saved his pate by ducking behind the counter, but the irritated poet gave him two or three smart strokes upon the shoulders, and was still exercising this discipline, when Kenrick, the original cause of the mischief, came in; to him the doctor made his complaint, and Kenrick, to prevent farther mischief, persuaded him to go home with him in a hackney coach. An account of this affair getting into the newspapers, Goldsmith published an ingenious defence of his conduct in the Daily Advertiser; but Evans had recourse to the law, 214

and