these three months to do something to make people laugh. There have I been strolling about the hedges, studying jests with a most tragical countenance. The Natural History is about half finished, and I will shortly finish the rest. God knows I am tired of this kind of finishing, which is but bungling work; and that not so much my fault as the fault of my scurvy circumstances. They begin to talk in town of the Opposition's gaining ground; the cry of liberty is still as loud as ever. I have published, or Davies has published for me, an Abridgement of the History of England, for which I have been a good deal abused in the newspapers, for betraying the liberties of the people. God knows I had no thought for or against liberty in my head; my whole aim being to make up a book of a decent size, that, as 'Squire Richard says, would do no harm to nobody. However, they set me down as an arrant Tory, and consequently an honest man. When you come to look at any part of it, you'll say that I am a sore Whig. God bless you, and with my most respectful compliments to her Ladyship, I remain, dear Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, OLIVER GOLDSMITH.”

Though the Langton visit had been thus deferred, however, another new married couple claimed him soon after this letter; and he could not, amidst all his scurvy circumstances, resist the temptation. Little Comedy had become Mrs. Bunbury, and he was asked to visit them at Barton. But his means were insufficient; and for a time to anticipate them, he laid himself under fresh obligations to Newbery. Former money transactions between them, involving unfulfilled engagements for a new story, remained still uncancelled; and Garrick still held an outstanding note of Newbery's, unpaid because of disputed claims on behalf of the elder Newbery's estate: but a better

understanding between the publisher and his creditor, on the faith of certain completed chapters of the long-promised tale, had now arisen; and Garrick was in no humour to disturb it by reviving any claim of his. Recent courtesies and kindness had been heartily interchanged between the poet and the actor, and shewed how little on either side. was at any time needed to have made these celebrated men fast friends. In the last three years they had met more frequently than at any previous time, at Mr. Beauclerc's, Lord Clare's, and Sir Joshua's ; and where there is anything to esteem, the more men know of each other the more they will wish to know. Thus, courtesies and good-nature had freely passed between them; and hints of promise and acceptance for a new comedy (Hoadly warning Garrick soon after against 'giving in' to Doctor Goldsmith's ridiculosity) would appear to have been interchanged. What was lately written in the country (little better than a rough draught at present, it is probable) is for Covent Garden; but he thinks he has so far succeeded as to have yet greater confidence for the future, and something of an understanding for a future dramatic effort seems certainly to have been agreed to. A new and strong link between them was supplied by the family Goldsmith is about to visit; for Garrick was Bunbury's most familiar friend, and a leader in all the sports at Barton. What Goldsmith's ways and habits used to be there, a survivor of that happy circle lived to be still talking about not many years ago. Come now let us play the fool a little,' was his ordinary invitation to

mirth; and he took part in every social game. Tricks were played upon his dress, which he suffered with imperturbable good humour; he was inventive in garden buildings and operations, over which he blundered amazingly; and if there was a piece of water in any part of the grounds, he commonly managed to tumble into it. Such were the recollections of those days; with the not unimportant addition, that everybody in that circle respected, admired, and loved him. His fondness for flowers was a passion, which he was left to indulge without restraint; here, at Lord Clare's, at Bennet Langton's, and at Beauclerc's. Thus when Beau tells Lord Charlemont a couple of years hence, that if he won't come to London, the Club shall be sent to Ireland to drive him over in self defence, the terrors of his threat are, that Johnson shall spoil his books, Goldsmith pull his flowers, and (for a quite intolerable climax) Boswell talk to him! But most at the card-table does he seem to have spread contagious mirth: affecting nothing of the rigour of the game (whether it was loo or any other), playing in wild defiance of the chances, laughing at all advice, staking preposterously, and losing always as much as the moderate pool could absorb. With fascinating pleasantry he has himself described all this, in an answer to one of Mrs. Bunbury's invitations to Barton, wherein she had playfully counselled him to come to their Christmas party in his smart spring velvet coat, to bring a wig that he might dance with the haymakers in, and above all to follow her and her sister's advice in playing loo. His reply,

perhaps the most amusing and characteristic of all his letters, was published ten years ago by Sir Henry Bunbury. Between the mock gravity of its beginning and the farcical broad mirth of its close, flash forth the finest humour, the nicest compliments, and the most sprightly touches of character.

"MADAM, I read your letter with all that allowance which critical candour could require, but after all find so much to object to, and so much to raise my indignation, that I cannot help giving it a serious answer. . I am not so ignorant, Madam, as not to see there are many sarcasms contained in it, and solecisms also. (Solecism is a word that comes from the town of Soleis in Attica, among the Greeks, built by Solon, and applied as we use the word Kidderminster for curtains from a town also of that name.. but this is learning you have no taste for !).. I say, Madam, there are many sarcasms in it, and solecisms also. But not to seem an illnatured critic, I'll take leave to quote your own words, and give you my remarks upon them as they occur. You begin as follows:

'I hope my good Doctor, you soon will be here,

And your spring-velvet coat very smart will appear,
To open our ball the first day of the year.'

"Pray, Madam, where did you ever find the epithet 'good,' applied to the title of Doctor? Had you called me learned Doctor,' or 'grave Doctor,' or 'noble Doctor,' it might be allowable, because they belong to the profession. But, not to cavil at trifles, you talk of my 'spring-velvet coat,' and advise me to wear it the first day in the year, that is, in the middle of winter!.. a spring-velvet coat in the middle of winter!!! That would be a solecism indeed! and yet to increase the inconsistence, in another part of your letter you call me a beau. Now, on one side or other, you must be wrong. If I am a beau, I can never think of wearing a spring-velvet in winter : and if I am not a beau, why then, that explains itself. But let me go on to your two next strange lines:

And bring with you a wig, that is modish and gay,

To dance with the girls that are makers of hay.'

"The absurdity of making hay at Christmas you yourself seem sensible of you say your sister will laugh; and so indeed she well may! The Latins have an expression for a contemptuous kind of laughter, 'naso contemnere adunco; that is, to laugh with a crooked nose. She may

laugh at you in the manner of the antients if she thinks fit. But now I come to the most extraordinary of all extraordinary propositions, which is, to take your and your sister's advice in playing at loo. The presumption of the offer raises my indignation beyond the bounds of prose; it inspires me at once with verse and resentment. I take advice! and from whom? You shall hear.

"First let me suppose, what may shortly be true,
The company set, and the word to be, Loo:

All smirking, and pleasant, and big with adventure,
And ogling the stake which is fix'd in the centre.
Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn
At never once finding a visit from Pam.

I lay down my stake, apparently cool,

While the harpies about me all pocket the pool.

I fret in my gizzard, yet, cautious and sly,

I wish all my friends may be bolder than I :
Yet still they sit snugg, not a creature will aim
By losing their money to venture at fame.
'Tis in vain that at niggardly caution I scold,
"Tis in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold:
All play their own way, and they think me an ass,
'What does Mrs. Bunbury?' . . 'I, sir? I pass.'
'Pray what does Miss Horneck? take courage, come do,'
Who, I? let me see, sir, why I must pass too.
Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil,
To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil.
Yet still I sit snugg, and continue to sigh on,
"Till, made by my losses as bold as a lion,

I venture at all, while my avarice regards

The whole pool as my own.. Come give me five cards.'
Well done!' cry the ladies; Ah, Doctor, that's good!
The pool's very rich,.. ah! the Doctor is loo'd!'
Thus foil'd in my courage, on all sides perplext,
I ask for advice from the lady that's next:

'Pray, ma'am, be so good as to give your advice;

Don't you think the best way is to venture for 't twice?'
'I advise,' cries the lady, to try it, I own...
"Ah! the Doctor is loo'd! Come, Doctor, put down.'
Thus, playing, and playing, I still grow more eager,
And so bold, and so bold, I'm at last a bold beggar.
Now, ladies, I ask, if law-matters your're skill'd in,