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The Rev. Henry Goldsmith, elder brother of the poet, and born seven years before him, was a man of estimable worth and excellent talents. Great expectations were formed of him, from the promise of his youth, both when at school and at college; but he offended and disappointed his friends, by entering into matrimony at the early age of nineteen, and resigning all ambitious views for love and a curacy. If, however, we may believe the pictures drawn by the poet of his brother's domestic life, his lot, though humble, was a happy one. He is the village pastor of the « Deserted Village," so exemplary in his character, and « passing rich with forty pounds a year." It is to this brother, who was the guide and protector of Goldsmith during his childhood, and to whom he was tenderly attached, that he addresses those beautiful lines in his poem of the Traveller :

Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee;
Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain,

And drags at each remove a length'ning chain.

His family also form the ruddy and joyous group, and exercise the simple but generous rites of hospitality, which the poet so charmingly describes :

Bless'd be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd,

Where all the ruddy family around

Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,

Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale;
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.

The whimsical character of the Man in Black, in the « Citizen of the World,» so rich in eccentricities and in amiable failings, is said to have been likewise drawn partly from his brother, partly from his father, but in a great measure from the author himself. It is difficult, however, to assign with precision the originals of a writer's characters. They are generally composed of scattered, though accordant traits, observed in various individuals, which have been seized upon with the discriminating tact of genius and combined into one harmonious whole. Still,

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it is a fact, as evident as it is delightful, that Goldsmith has poured out the genuine feelings of his heart in his-works; and has had continually before him, in his delineations of simple worth and domestic virtue, the objects of his filial and fraternal affection.

Goldsmith is said, in his earlier years, to have been whimsical in his humours and eccentric in his habits. This was remarked in his infancy. Sometimes he assumed the gravity and reserve of riper years, at other times would give free scope to the wild frolic and exuberant vivacity suited to his age. The singularity of his moods and manners, and the evidences he gave of a precocity of talent, caused him to be talked of in the neighbourhood as a little prodigy. It is said that, even before he was eight years old he evinced a natural turn for poetry, and made many attempts at rhymes, to the amusement of his father and friends; and when somewhat older, after he had learned to write, his chief pleasure was to scribble rude verses on small scraps of paper, and then commit them to the flames.

His father had strained his slender means in giving a liberal education to his eldest son, and had determined to bring up Oliver to trade. He was placed under the care of a village schoolmaster, to be instructed in reading, writing, and arithmetic. This pedagogue, whom his scholar afterwards so happily describes in the « Deserted Village," had been a quarter-master in the army during the wars of Queen Anne, and, in his own estimation, a man of no small pith and moment. Having passed through various parts of Europe, and being of an eccentric turn of mind, he acquired habits of romancing that bordered on the marvellous, and, like many other travellers, was possessed with a prodigious itch for detailing his adventures. He himself was most commonly the redoubted hero of his own story, and his pupils were always the amazed and willing auditory:

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew,

That one small head could carry all he knew.

The tales of wonder recounted by this second Pinto are said to have had surprising effects on his youthful hearers; and it

has been plausibly conjectured that to the vivid impressions thus made on the young imagination of our author, may be ascribed those wandering propensities which influenced his after life.

After he had been for some time with this indifferent preceptor, his mother, with whom he was always a favourite, exerted her influence to persuade his father to give him an education that would qualify him for a liberal profession. Her solicitations, together with the passionate attachment which the boy evinced for books and learning, and his early indications of talent, prevailed over all scruples of economy, and he was placed under the care of the Rev. Mr Griffin, schoolmaster of Elphin. He was boarded in the house of his uncle, John Goldsmith, Esq., of Ballyoughter, in the vicinity. Here the amiableness of his disposition and the amusing eccentricity of his humour rendered him a universal favourite. A little anecdote, preserved by the family of his uncle, evinces the precocity of his wit.

At an entertainment given by this gentleman to a party of young people in the neighbourhood, a fiddler was sent for, and dancing introduced. Oliver, although only nine years of age, was permitted to share in the festivities of the evening, and was called on to dance a hornpipe. His figure was never good, but at this time it was peculiarly short and clumsy, and having but recently recovered from the small-pox, his features were greatly disfigured. The scraper of catgut, struck with the oddity of the boy's appearance, thought to display his waggery, by likening him to Æsop dancing. This comparison, according to his notions, being uncommonly happy, he continued to harp on it for a considerable time, when suddenly the laugh of the company was turned against himself, by Oliver sarcastically remarking,

Our herald hath proclaim'd this saying,

See Esop dancing, and his monkey playing.

So smart a repartee, from so young a boy, was the subject of much conversation, and perhaps of itself was decisive of his fortune. His friends immediately determined that he should be sent

to the university; and some of his relations, who belonged to the church, and possessed the necessary means, generously offered to contribute towards the expense. The Rev. Mr Green, and the Rev. Mr Contarine, both men of distinguished worth and learning, stood forward on this occasion as the youth's patrons.

To qualify him for the university, he was now sent to Athlone school, and placed under the tuition of the Rev. Mr Campbell. There he remained two years; but the ill-health of the master having obliged him to resign his situation, Oliver was consigned to the care of the Rev. Patrick Hughes, at Edgeworthstown, in the county of Longford, under whom he continued his studies till finally fitted for the university. Under this respectable teacher and excellent man, he is said to have made much greater progress than under any of the rest of his instructors.

A short time before leaving the school of Mr Hughes, our poet had an adventure which is believed to have suggested the plot of his comedy of « She Stoops to Conquer, or the Mistakes of a Night."

His father's house was distant about twenty miles from Edgeworthstown, and when on his journey thither for the last time, he had devoted so much time to amusement on the road, that it was almost dark when he reached the little town of Ardagh. Some friend had given him a guinea, and Oliver, who was never niggard of his purse, resolved to put up here for the night, and treat himself to a good supper and a bed. Having asked for the best house in the village, he was conducted to the best house, instead of the best inn. The owner, immediately discovered the mistake, but being a man of humour, resolved to carry on the joke. Oliver was therefore permitted to order his horse to the stable, while he himself walked into the parlour, and took his seat familiarly by the fire-side. The servants were then called about him to receive his orders as to supper. The supper was soon produced; the gentleman, with his wife and daughters, were generously invited to partake; a bottle of wine was called for to crown the feast, and at going to bed, a hot cake was ordered to be prepared for his breakfast. The laugh, to be sure, was rather against our hero in the morn

ing, when he called for his bill, and found he had been hospitably entertained in a private family. But finding that his host was an acquaintance of his father's, he entered into the humour of the scene, and laughed as heartily as the rest.

On the 11th of June, 1744, Goldsmith, then fifteen years of age, was admitted a sizer in Trinity College, Dublin, under the Rev. Theaker Wilder, one of the fellows, a man of violent temper, from whose overbearing disposition he suffered much vexation. The young student was giddy and thoughtless, and on one occasion invited a number of young persons of both sexes to a supper and dance in his apartments, in direct violation of the college rules. The vigilant Wilder became apprised of the circumstance, and rushed like a tiger to the festive scene. He burst into the apartment, put the gay assembly to the rout, but previous to their dispersion, seized on the unfortunate delinquent, and inflicted corporal chastisement on him, in

of the party.

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The youthful poet could not brook this outrage and indignity. He could not look his acquaintances in the face without the deepest feeling of shame and mortification. He determined, therefore, to escape altogether from his terrible tutor, by abandoning his studies, and flying to some distant part of the globe. With this view he disposed of his books and clothes, and resolved to embark at Cork: but here his usual thoughtless and improvident turn was again displayed, for he lingered so long in Dublin after his resolution had been taken, that his finances were reduced to a single shilling when he set out on the journey.

He was accustomed afterwards to give a ludicrous account of his adventures in this expedition, although it was attended by many distressful circumstances. Having contrived to subsist three whole days on the shilling he set out with, he was then compelled by necessity to sell the clothes off his back, and at last was so reduced by famine, that he was only saved from sinking under it by the compassion of a young girl at a wake, from whom he got a handful of gray peas. This he used to say was the most delicious repast he had ever made. While in this state of hunger and wretchedness, without money and without friends, the

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