in London; he would have talked of his great friends of the Club-of my Lord Clare and my Lord Bishop, my Lord Nugent-sure he knew them intimately, and was hand and glove with some 5 of the best men in town-and he would have spoken of Johnson and of Burke, and of Sir Joshua who had painted him-and he would have told wonderful sly stories of Ranelagh and the Pantheon, and the masquerades at Madame Cornelys; 10 and he would have toasted, with a sigh, 'the Jessamy Bride-the lovely Mary Horneck.

The figure of that charming young lady forms one of the prettiest recollections of Goldsmith's life. She and her beautiful sister, who married 15 Bunbury, the graceful and humorous amateur artist of those days, when Gilray had but just begun to try his powers, were among the kindest and

well an "incarnation of toadyism." And the worst of it is, that Johnson himself has suffered from this habit of the Laird of 20 Auchinleck's. People are apt to forget under what Boswellian stimulus the great Doctor uttered many hasty things:-things no more indicative of the nature of the depths of his character than the phosphoric gleaming of the sea, when struck at night, is indicative of radical corruption of nature ! In truth, it is clear enough on the 25 whole that both Johnson and Goldsmith appreciated each other, and that they mutually knew it. They were, as it were, tripped up and flung against each other, occasionally, by the blundering and silly gambolling of people in company.

Something must be allowed for Boswell's " rivalry for Johnson's 30 good graces with Oliver (as Sir Walter Scott has remarked), for Oliver was intimate with the Doctor before his biographer was,and, as we all remember, marched off with him to "take tea with Mrs. Williams " before Boswell had advanced to that honourable degree of intimacy. But, in truth, Boswell-though he perhaps 35 showed more talent in his delineation of the Doctor than is generally ascribed to him-had not faculty to take a fair view of two great men at a time. Besides, as Mr. Forster justly remarks, "he was impatient of Goldsmith from the first hour of their acquaintance."-Life and Adventures, p. 292.

dearest of Goldsmith's many friends, cheered and pitied him, travelled abroad with him, made him welcome at their home, and gave him many a pleasant holiday. He bought his finest clothes to figure at their country-house at Barton-he wrote 5 them droll verses. They loved him, laughed at him, played him tricks and made him happy. He asked for a loan from Garrick, and Garrick kindly supplied him, to enable him to go to Barton: but there were to be no more holidays and only one 10 brief struggle more for poor Goldsmith. A lock of his hair was taken from the coffin and given to the Jessamy Bride. She lived quite into our time. Hazlitt saw her an old lady, but beautiful still, in Northcote's painting-room, who told the eager 15 critic how proud she always was that Goldsmith had admired her. The younger Colman has left a touching reminiscence of him (vol. i. 63, 64):—

"I was only five years old," he says, "when Goldsmith took me on his knee one evening whilst 20 he was drinking coffee with my father, and began to play with me, which amiable act I returned, with the ingratitude of a peevish brat, by giving him a very smart slap on the face: it must have been a tingler, for it left the marks of my spiteful 25 paw on his cheek. This infantile outrage was followed by summary justice, and I was locked up by my indignant father in an adjoining room to undergo solitary imprisonment in the dark. Here I began to howl and scream most abominably, 30 which was no bad step towards my liberation, since those who were not inclined to pity me might be

likely to set me free for the purpose of abating a nuisance.

"At length a generous friend appeared to extricate me from jeopardy, and that generous friend 5 was no other than the man I had so wantonly molested by assault and battery-it was the tenderhearted Doctor himself, with a lighted candle in his hand and a smile upon his countenance, which was still partially red from the effects of my petu10 lance. I sulked and sobbed as he fondled and soothed, till I began to brighten. Goldsmith seized the propitious moment of returning good-humour, when he put down the candle and began to conjure. He placed three hats, which happened to be in the 15 room, and a shilling under each. The shillings, he told me, were England, France, and Spain. 'Hey presto cockalorum!' cried the Doctor, and lo, on uncovering the shillings, which had been. dispersed each beneath a separate hat, they were all found congregated under one. I was no politician at five years old, and therefore might not have wondered at the sudden revolution which brought England, France, and Spain all under one crown; but as also I was no conjurer, it amazed 25 me beyond measure. . . . From that time, whenever the Doctor came to visit my father, ' I plucked his gown to share the good man's smile;' a game at romps constantly ensued, and we were always cordial friends and merry playfellows. Our unequal companionship varied somewhat as to sports as I grew older; but it did not last long: my senior playmate died in his forty-fifth year, when I had

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In all the numerous ac

attained my eleventh. counts of his virtues and foibles, his genius and absurdities, his knowledge of nature and ignorance of the world, his compassion for another's woe' was always predominant; and my trivial story of 5 his humouring a froward child weighs but as a feather in the recorded scale of his benevolence." Think of him reckless, thriftless, vain, if you like but merciful, gentle, generous, full of love and pity. He passes out of our life, and goes to 10 render his account beyond it. Think of the poor pensioners weeping at his grave; think of the noble spirits that admired and deplored him; think of the righteous pen that wrote his epitaph—and of the wonderful and unanimous response of af- 15 fection with which the world has paid back the love he gave it. His humour delighting us still: his song fresh and beautiful as when first he charmed with it: his words in all our mouths: his very weaknesses beloved and familiar-his benevo- 20 lent spirit seems still to smile upon us; to do gentle kindnesses: to succour with sweet charity: to soothe, caress, and forgive: to plead with the fortunate for the unhappy and the poor.

His name is the last in the list of those men of 25 humour who have formed the themes of the discourses which you have heard so kindly.

Long before I had ever hoped for such an audience, or dreamed of the possibility of the good fortune which has brought me so many friends, I was 30 at issue with some of my literary brethren upon a

point-which they held from tradition I think rather than experience-that our profession was neglected in this country; and that men of letters were ill received and held in slight esteem. It 5 would hardly be grateful of me now to alter my old opinion that we do meet with good-will and kindness, with generous helping hands in the time of our necessity, with cordial and friendly recognition. What claim had any one of these of whom I have 10 been speaking, but genius? What return of gratitude, fame, affection, did it not bring to all?

What punishment befell those who were unfortunate among them, but that which follows reckless habits and careless lives? For these faults a 15 wit must suffer like the dullest prodigal that ever ran in debt. He must pay the tailor if he wears the coat; his children must go in rags if he spends his money at the tavern; he can't come to London and be made Lord Chancellor if he stops on the 20 road and gambles away his last shilling at Dublin. And he must pay the social penalty of these follies too, and expect that the world will shun the man of bad habits, that women will avoid the man of loose life, that prudent folks will close their doors 25 as a precaution, and before a demand should be made on their pockets by the needy prodigal. With what difficulty had any one of these men to contend, save that eternal and mechanical one of want of means and lack of capital, and of which 30 thousands of young lawyers, young doctors, young soldiers and sailors, of inventors, manufacturers, shopkeepers, have to complain? Hearts as brave