ment there, perhaps better than in any other in Europe. But, if he has ambition, strong passions, and an exquisite sensibility of contempt, do not send him there unless you have no other trade for him except your own. It is impossible to conceive how much may be done by a proper education at home. A boy, for instance, who understands perfectly well Latin, French, arithmetic, and the principles of the civil law, and can write a fine hand, has an education that may qualify him for any undertaking. And these parts of learning should be carefully inculcated, let him be designed for whatever calling he will. Above all things, let him never touch a romance or novel; these paint beauty in colours more charming than nature, and describe happiness that man never tastes. How delusive, how destructive are these pictures of consummate bliss! They teach the youthful mind to sigh after beauty and happiness which never existed; to despise the little good which fortune has mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she ever gave: and in general, take the word of a man who has seen the world, and has studied human nature more by experience than precept; take my word for it, I say, that books teach us very little of the world. The greatest merit in a state of poverty would only serve to make the possessor ridiculous; may distress, but cannot relieve him. Frugality, and even avarice, in the lower orders of mankind, are true ambi

tion.

These afford the only ladder for the poor

to rise to preferment. Teach, then, my dear sir, to your son thrift and economy. Let his poor wandering uncle's example be placed before his eyes. I had learned from books to be disinterested and generous, before I was taught from experience the necessity of being prudent. I had contracted the habits and notions of a philosopher, while I was exposing myself to the insidious approaches of cunning; and often by being, even with my narrow finances, charitable to excess, I forgot the rules of justice, and placed myself in the very situation of the wretch who did not thank me for my bounty When I am in the remotest part of the world, tell him this, and perhaps he may improve from my example. But I find myself again falling into my gloomy habit of thinking.

My mother, I am informed, is almost blind: even though I had the utmost inclination to return home, under such circumstances I could not; for to behold her in distress, without a capacity of relieving her from it, would add too much to my splenetic habit. Your last letter was much too short; it should have answered some queries I made in my former. Just sit down as I do, and write forward until you have filled all your paper; it requires no thought, at least from the ease with which my own sentiments rise when they are addressed to you for believe me, my head has no

share in all I write; my heart dictates the whole. Pray give my love to Bob Bryanton, and entreat him, from me, not to drink. My dear sir, give me some account about poor Jenny.20 Yet her husband loves her: if so, she cannot be unhappy.

I know not whether I should tell you—yet why should I, why should I conceal those trifles, or indeed any thing from you? There is a book of mine will be published in a few days, the life of a very extraordinary man, no less than the great Voltaire. You know already by the title that it is no more than a catchpenny. However I spent but four weeks upon the whole performance, for which I received £20. When published, I shall take some method of conveying it to you, unless you may think it dear of the postage, which may amount to four or five shillings. However, I fear you will not find an equivalent of amusement. Your last letter, I repeat it, was too short; you should have given me your opinion of the design of the heroi-comical poem which I sent you; you remember I intended to introduce the hero of the poem as lying in a paltry alehouse. You may take the following specimen of the manner, which I flatter myself is quite original. The room in which he lies may be described somewhat in this

way:

The window, patch'd with paper, lent a ray,
That feebly show'd the state in which he lay.

20 His youngest sister who had married unfortunately.

The sanded floor which grits beneath the tread,
The humid wall with paltry pictures spread;
The game of goose was there expos'd to view,
And the twelve rules the royal martyr drew;
The seasons, fram'd with listing found a place,
And Prussia's monarch show'd his lampblack face.
The moon was cold, he views with keen desire

A rusty grate unconscious of a fire;

An unpaid reckoning on the frieze was scor'd,
And five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board.

And now imagine after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his appearance, in order to dun him for the reckoning;

Not with that face, so servile and so gay,
That welcomes every stranger that can pay;
With sulky eye he smok'd the patient man,

Then pull'd his breeches tight, and thus began, &c.

All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have friends with whom

they do not care

Take my present Poetry is a much

how much they play the fool. follies as instances of regard. easier, and more agreeable species of composition than prose; and could a man live by it, it were no unpleasant employment to be a poet.

I am resolved to leave no space, though I should fill it up by only telling you, what you very well know already, I mean that I am your most affectionate Friend and Brother,

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

The reason of this design being abandoned is

not precisely known; but it is supposed to have arisen from the impossibility of raising the necessary sum for his equipments; or more probably from his circumstances rapidly improving by the increasing patronage of the booksellers. The purity and elegance of his style, the clearness of the language, and the happiness of the expression ensured a ready sale for his productions. He published the Bee-the Essays in the British Magazine afterwards collected-and various Criticisms in Reviews and Newspapers. His toil, though very laborious, was now becoming profitable. He wrote regularly for Mr. Griffiths in the Monthly Review from nine till two every day; his engagement was for board, lodging, and a handsome salary; but it is probable that Goldsmith found the drudgery too irksome, for at the end of seven or eight months the agreement made for a year was dissolved. He then wrote for Newberry, at a salary of £100 a year, and contributed his Chinese Letters to the Public Ledger. assisted Smollett in the British Magazine and Critical Review; for his Criticism on 21 Massey's Translation of Ovid's Fasti had introduced him to Smollett's notice, who warmly interested himself in his welfare.

He

21 Dr. Aikin says that Goldsmith reviewed Ovid's Epistles, translated by a Mr. Barrett, Master of the Grammar School at Ashford, Kent;' but I believe he is mistaken, his review of Massey is in his collected works.