My old friend, we must take your picture! Now the Lord help me, if I did not, take it into my filly head that they were gentlemen rob'bers! I had heard people call mo→ knows fo much of the world, has "Thou art a proper fubject for a such an inflexible regard, for truth," picture; thou can't be no more that he will not run the risk of tel-"out of fashion, than nature's modeft ling a lie to his fuperiors, for fear of "felf." God bless you, Sir, rea flattering mifnomer; fo he faid, 'plied he cheerly, you give me comWhat did you fay, an' please you, fort! and I will tell you, an' pleafe • Sir?" My good man, I only afk- you, Sir, a little about it. They "ed you if you had not your picture came to fetch me from the woods "taken by young Mr Barker?"— on a wintry day, just as I had felled Now had his fhame been extrava- the stiffest beechen tree in yonder gance, or vanity his motive, he could 'woodlands: I was just wiping the not in its detection have fhewn more 'fweat from my brows, and withing modefty: he blushed!-as when a for a little refreshment, when three winter's evening fun darts forth his ' gentlemen came up to me, and ruddy beams, reflecting his foon-expir-without any other greeting said, ing light upon fome venerable oak, his modelt face reflected light; and, like that feafon when fudden ftorms fucceed the momentary funfhine, he drained his humble eyes full charged with their liquid forrows! by theney the King's picture, and thought the trident god, and his briny nymphs chafing their foaming courfers through the raging feas, old Kelfon fhed the briney tear! When the propriety of his tears were over, ere he could. commence his fimple tale, the fcarlet fuffufed his cheeks again. Alas, Sir, • faid he, that old frame was 'painted is true; and why it was I cannot well explain! They told me ''twas no fin! only after the fashion ' of reprefenting nature! but indeed, Sir, 'twas only to record the fashion of an old man's nature ftruggling to fupport it with half extinguished my poor ftrength. I know not what good 'fashion there is, Sir, for a poor man 66 66 6 they meant that picture! So I faid, Why you would not fure take what a poor old man has got? Yes, they faid, they would take me! God forgive me for being fuch an old fool! but at that moment I took them for three crimpmen, that I had 'formerly heard went about the country to take folks away,-put 'em aboard a fhip and carry 'em beyond feas! Oddfnitterkins, faid I, (for I wer'n't afcard) then I'll defend my life; fo with my hatchet (which is as good a one as ever cut a piece of timber) I put myself in a defenceful pofture, thus juft fo! with my left leg forward, my knee a lit 6 to be fa diftinguished!" There istle bent, my right leg well ftraight no harm, but much good in it, my friend; it is recorded that honefty "lived in a cottage, and worked "contentedly for a little! Thy virtue "blazes but the ftronger, and the "longer it fhines here, the nearer it "is to live for ever! Virtue in pɔ"verty is far more diftinguifhed, "and will be more eminently rewarded, than even the virtue of "the rich! I would infinitely rather "be as thou art, than be poffeffor of a great purf and a little foi!!!! 66 66 66 dren of the parish, when they now fee me, call out, There goes dola'trous George!" Why don't you "inform the parfon of your parish of "all this nonfenfe?" So I would, "all this nonfense?" Sir, but the clerk fays as how the curate told him the devil would paint my picture, one of thefe days, with fire and brimftone!" No, no, "faid I, honeft George, your par"fon is too wife a man to believe "that gentleman paints in any fuch. colours his back - grounds may, "perhaps, confift a good deal in dark "fhades, but depend upon it, he ne 66 Oddfnitterkins figo, then, replied I, (God forgive me for fwearing!)' you shall as foon take my life as my property: I have but one half crown, and that, by the bleffing of God, as I've work'd for't hard, I will preferve! so keep your distance! The gentlemen, much aftonished, thought me mad! and were going 'to leave the wood, when one of them turned round, and faid, "My friend, "I believe you are much mistaken 66 in us; we come to you with no "other intention but to do you a fer"vice; one of thefe gentlemen is a "painter, and only wishes to paint you, to take you off a little upon 46 canvas; that's all." O, to be of 'fervice to me, is it? faid I.-Odds bedging-gloves and kitty-bands! a pretty odd way that is, indeed, of being ferviceable to a poor old man, to first daub him over with paint, and then to take him off upon a piece of canvas!-No, no, George Kelfon knows a trick worth two of that, then to be carried about the country to be made a may-game of upon a piece of canvas!! The gentlemen laughed heartily at my fimplicity, as they called it, and explain⚫ed to me their intentions and motives. I was foon convinced of my 'ignorance, and humbly begging their pardons for taking them to be rogues, 'I at laft confented. But although Mr Spackman has been greatly 6 ་ 66 ver ufes fuch bright colouring as "fire and brimftone, though there "have been many ingenious gentle"men who have painted for him in "thofe lively colours, which would almoft tempt an innocent per"fon to believe they had taken an exact furvey of his royal reR"fidence!" Then, Sir, you don't think I was dolatrous ?” "No, no, my friend! for although you have "caufed many to idolize your picture, 66 66 66 6 yet you are guilty of no fin infitting "for it! Do you know for how much "your picture has fold?" No, Sir, but may hap for a matter of thirty or forty fhillings!" "FIVE HUNDRED "GUINEAS!!!" 'Odds billhooks and hatchets! five hundred guineas!— Oh, Lord, master! why what would the fquire, or the curate of our parifh, have come to then, if the pio 6 ' good, in presenting me with a fumture of poor old George Kelfon of money for my attendance, giving would fetch five hundred guineas?" me a hot dinner every Sunday fince, Very far from much, my old friend !(and has been fo benevolent as to "Scenes from ruftic nature will promife me it shall be continued "ever be held in higher eftimation during my life) and a piece of filver" than the dreft-up trumpery of when I leave his hofpitable house, "human pride. When art condeyet my confcience accufes me of "fcends to imitate the shape of fome having broken the fecond command." ufelefs, infignificant, worthless being, ⚫ment? How fo, my friend?" "though dreffed up in all the gaudy Why, Sir, in committing the fin of " trappings of caprice, it will ever dolatry! My old woman, the clerk "be defpifed." I gave the old fel"of the parith, the old farmer of the low a piece of money, and walked a-' "village, and all of 'em, do fay as how way, thinking of the following re• 'twas dalatrous!" The very chil- flection of Mr Burke's, when he Dd condemns condemns the French nation for leffening the incomes of their archbishops and bishops :-" The English nation, "fays he,will not grudge an archbishop "or bishop, ten or twelve thoufand a 66 year ! how different human eftima❝tion!" and indeed, Mr Burke, is fometimes very whimsical too! for let the vraisemblance of these archbishops or bishops, clothed in their lawn and purple, which human'eflimation has given them, and with all the features of their fuppofed gravity, learning, and luxury, be recorded on canvas, who is there that would be eager to bid for any one of them? I question, if they were painted by Barker in his beft manner, whether any of them would produce five pounds! but behold the difference of human estimation, from the fuperior attraction of nature! he no fooner paints a poor, old, ill fed WOODMAN, in his patched and tattered jacket, but human eftimation values him at ONE THOUSAND GUINEAS!]" NEW ANECDOTES OF DR GOLDSMITH. DR. JOHNSON did not think the when he did recollect me, I found life of any literary man in Eng land well written; "for befides,' fays he, the common incidents of life, it should tell us his ftudies, his private anecdotes, and modes of living-the means by which he attained to excellence, and his opinion of his own works." Upon this idea the following circumstance relative to the life of Dr Goldsmith (hitherto unpublished) are given by a perfon who lived in the closest habits of intimacy with the Doctor for the last ten years of his life. Dr Goldsmith's firft eftablishment in London after his travels, was as journeyman to a chymist near Fifhstreet-hill; and hearing that his friend Dr Sleigh (formerly a fellowftudent of his at Edinburgh) was in town, he waited with anxiety for the Sunday following to pay him a vifit; but notwithstanding it was Sunday," faid the Doctor, "and it is to be fuppofed in my best clothes, Sleigh fcarcely knew me -fuch is the tax the unfortunate pay to poverty-however, his heart as warm as ever, and he fhared his parfe and friendship with me during his continuance in London *. By the recommendation of his principal, the chymist, who faw in Goldfmith talents above his condition, he foon after became an usher to the Rev. Dr Milner's Academy, at Peckham, where he continued till fach time as his criticisms in the Monthly Review introduced him to the acquaintance of Mr Griffith, the principal proprietor, who engaged him in the compilation of it. The circumftance of his being ufher at Peckham Academy was the only æra of Goldsmith's life that he' was vain enough to be ashamed of, forgetting" that a man cannot become mean by a mean employment." He frequently used to talk of his diftreffes on the continent, fuch as living on the hofpitalities of the friars in convents, fleeping in barns, and picking up a kind of mendicant livelihood by the German flute, with great pleasantry; but the little story of *Dr Sleigh afterwards fettled as a Phyfician in Cork, his native city, and was rifing rapidly into eminence, when he was cut off, in the flower of his age, by an inflammatory fever, which at once deprived the world of a fine fcholar, a found. phyfician, and an honeft man. of Peckham School he always carefully avoided; and when an old friend one day very innocently made ufe of that common phrase, "Oh! that's all a holiday at Peckham," he reddened with great indignation, and asked him, "Whether he meant to affront him?" Dr Goldsmith's first etled refidence in London was in Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey, where being introduced to the late Mr Newbery, of whom the Dr always fpoke with the highest respect and gratitude, he gave him a department in the Public Ledger, where the Doctor wrote thofe periodical papers called" Chinese Letters,” which now appear in his works under the title of" The Citizen of the world." The Doctor ufed to tell many pleafant stories of Mr Newbery, who, he faid, was the patron of more diftreffed authors than any man of his time.The following one of Anet, a man who had been pilloried for fome deif tical writings, and who was then in St George's-fields for debt, he used to relate with much colloquial humour: Anet, while he was in prifon, had written a little treatife on the English Grammar, which he fent Goldfmith, begging his interceffion with Mr Newbery to difpofe of it. The compaffion of the Bookfeller met that of the Poet's, and they called together one evening at Anet's apartments in St George's - fields. After the ufual forms of introduction, the price of the manufcript was talk ed of, when Mr Newbery very generously, aud much above the expectation of the Author, faid, "he would give him ten guineas for it." The bargain was instantly ftruck, and Anet, by way of fhewing his gratitude, faid, he would add a dedication to it, along with his name. This was the very thing Newbery wanted to avoid, and which gave rife 66 to the following curious dialogue: N." Confider a bit, Mr Anet." A.-"Well, Sir, I do, what then!" N." Why, then, Sir, you must recollect that you have been pilloried, and that can be no recommendation to any man's book." A. I grant I have been pilloried-but I am not the first man that has had this accident; befides, Sir, the public very often fupport a man the more for thofe unavoidable misfortunes." N," Unavoidable, Mr Anet!— why, Sir, you brought it on yourself by writing against the established religion of your country; and let me tell you, Mr Anet, a man who is fupposed to have forfeited his ears on fuch an account, ftands but a poor candidate for public favour." A.—" Well, well, Mr Newbery (getting into a paffion,) it does not fignify talking-you either fuffer me to put my name to it, or, by Gyou publish no book of mine." N" Very well, Sir,-you do as you please in refpect to that matter but if you have no regard to your reputation, I have fome for mine: fo, Mr Anet, a good evening to you. Here the converfation ended, and I believe the book was never fince published. Dr Johnfon obferves, in his Life of Milton, that his biographers have been careful in mentioning hiftorically every houfe in which this great poet lived, "as if it were an injury to neglect naming any place that he henoured by his prefence." Without being fcrupulously attached to this principle, I shall mention the different refidences of Goldsmith, only as they afford a pleafing kind of information to fympathetic minds, and mark the Dd2 gradual gradual progrefs of his advancements to Goldsmith's oddities, always fpoke in fortune and literary reputation. refpectably of his genius, and praised The Traveller," as abounding with many beauties, particularly that fine character of the English nation beginning, The Doctor, foon after his acquaintance with Newbery, for whom he held "the pen of a ready writer," removed to lodgings in Wine Office Court, Fleet-fireet, where he finished his "Vicar of Wakefield," and on which his friend Newbery advanced him twenty guineas: "A fum," fays the Doctor, "I was fo little used to receive in a lump, that I felt myself under the embarraffment of Captain Brazen in the play, "whether I should build a privateer or a play-house with the money." About the fame time he published "The Traveller; or, A Profpect of Society." Part of this Poem, as he fays in his dedication to his brother, the Rev. Henry Goldfmith, "was formerly written to him from Switzerland," and contained about two hundred lines. This manufcript lay by the Doctor fome years, without any determined idea of publifhing, till perfuaded to it by his friend Dr Johnson, who gave him fome general hints towards enlarging it; and in particular, as I have been in formed, the concluding lines of that poem, which Goldsmith has thus very beautifully verified : "In every government though terrors reign, Though tyrant king, or tyrant laws reftrain, How Imall of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can caufe or cure? Still to ourselves in every place confign'd annoy, Glides the fmooth current of domefticjoy; To men remote from power-but rarely our own. "Fir'd at the found, my genius fpreads Where lawns extend that fcorn Arca- And brighter streams than fam'd Hydafpes glide." He frequently repeated the whole of this beautiful picture with an en ergy which did great honour to the Poet. The fame of this Poem not only established him as an Author of celebrity amongst the Bookfellers, but introduced him to feveral of the literati and men of eminence. Amongst thefe were the Right Hon. Lord Nugent, Edmund Burke, Sir Jofhua Reynolds, Dr Nugent, Topham, Beauclerc, Mr Dyer, &c. &c. who took a pleasure in the Doctor's converfation, and by turns laughed at his blunders, and admired the fimplicity of the man, and the elegance of his poetical talents. The Doctor now, becoming quite renommé, he made his appearance in a more profeilional manner than ufual, viz. a fcalet great coat buttoned clofe under the chin, a phyfical wig and cane, as was the fashion of the times, and declined vifiting many of those public places which formerly were fo convenient to him in point of expence, and which contributed fo much to his amusement. "In truth," faid the Doctor (a favourite phrafe of his,) one facrifices fomething for the fake of good company, for here I'm fhut out of several places where I used to play the fool very agreeably." His acquaintance with Lloyd the Dr Johnson, though no ftranger author, and colleague of Churchill, commenced |