exceedingly laborious. Independent of his contributions to newspapers and magazines, he wrote regularly for Mr Griffiths in the Monthly Review, from nine till two o'clock every day. His friend Dr Milner had introduced him to Griffiths, and this work was performed in consequence of a written agreement, which was to last for a year. The remuneration to be given on

part of Mr Griffiths, was board and lodging, and a handsome salary; but it is probable Goldsmith found the drudgery too irksome, for at the end of seven or eight months the agreement was dissolved by mutual consent. When the "Inquiry into the State of Polite Literature» was published, Mr Newberry, the bookseller, who at that time gave great encouragement to men of literary talents, became one of our author's chief раtrons. For that gentleman he was now regularly engaged in writing or compiling a variety of minor pieces, and at the same time was introduced by his means as a writer in the Public Ledger, to which he contributed Chinese Letters, afterwards published under the title of « The Citizen of the World,"

At this time also, Goldsmith wrote occasionally for the British Magazine and Critical Review, conducted by Dr Smollett. To that celebrated writer he was originally introduced in consequence of the taste and accuracy with which he had criticised a despicable translation of Ovid's Fasti, by a pedantic schoolmaster; though the intercourse between them does not appear to have been kept up for any considerable time, yet Goldsmith is said to have derived important advantages from the connexion. It is well known that the liberal soul of Smollett made him the friend of every author in distress; and it is generally understood that, for some time, he warmly interested himself in Goldsmith's success. He not only recommended him to the patronage of the most eminent booksellers, but introduced him to the notice of the first literary characters.

Notwithstanding the variety of our author's literary labours, however, no decided improvement in his circumstances appears to have taken place till after the publication of his << Inquiry>> in 1759. At that time he had lodgings in Green-Arbour Court, Old Bailey; and, that he must have occupied them rather on

principles of economy than from the excellence of their accommodation, is proved by a little anecdote related by one of his literary friends. « I called on Goldsmith, at his lodgings," said he, «< in March 1759, and found him writing his « Inquiry» in a miserable, dirty-looking room, in which there was but one chair; and when, from civility, he resigned it to me, he was himself obliged to sit in the window. While we were conversing together some one gently tapped at the door, and being desired to come in, a poor ragged little girl, of a very becoming demeanour, entered the room, and dropping a courtesy, said, 'my mamma sends her compliments, and begs the favour of you to lend her a chamber-pot full of coals.'"

Our author's labours for the booksellers, though for some time unproductive of general literary fame, by degrees procured him the more substantial benefits of good living and commodious lodgings. He soon acquired extraordinary facility in compilation, and used to boast of the power of his pen in this way of procuring money. Accordingly, as early as 1761, we find him removed from Green-Arbour Court to Wine-Office Court in Fleet-street, where he occupied genteel apartments, received visits of ceremony, and sometimes gave entertainments to his literary friends.

Among the distinguished characters to whom Goldsmith had been lately introduced, and with whom he now regularly associated, either from similarity of disposition or pursuits, the most remarkable in point of eminence was Dr Johnson. To a mind of the highest order, richly and variously cultivated, Johnson united a warm and generous disposition. Similar qualities, both of the head and the heart, were conspicuous in Goldsmith and hence, to use an expression of the Rambler himself, no two men were, perhaps, ever better formed to take to one another. The innate benevolence of heart which they mutually displayed first drew them together; and so strong was the attraction, ultimately increased by respect for each other's powers, that their friendship subsisted without interruption, and with undiminished regard, for a period of fourteen years. It has been injudiciously remarked, that this connexion was unfor

tunate for the reputation of Goldsmith, and that, in the literary circles of the time, «he seldom appeared but as a foil to the Giant of Words." On the contrary, however, the intercourse that subsisted between these eminent men, would rather appear to have been productive of the finest illustration of their respective characters; and such was the strength of their mutual attachment, that it seems to have been the study of each to embellish and exalt the character of the other. Besides, Johnson was the giant of intellect as well as the giant of words, and it is absurd to suppose, that, in the display of his extraordinary powers, he would ever require a foil to heighten their effect. Goldsmith, it is true, seemed sometimes, as it were, to look up to the great moralist, but it was rather with affection than with dread, more with the spirit of emulation than the despair of equal excellence. And, on the other hand, in no single instance do we find that Johnson ever looked down upon Goldsmith as inferior to himself: the reverse, indeed, is much more frequently the case; for the uniform tendency of his remarks on the genius and writings of our author, is to hold him up as the brightest literary ornament of his time. Long before his fame was established with the public, Johnson had justly appreciated his talents, and in a conversation with Boswell, concluded with asserting, that « Goldsmith was one of the first men then existing as an author.»

It has not been ascertained by whom Johnson and our author were originally introduced to one another, but it is generally understood that their intimacy commenced in the beginning of 1761. On the 31st of May, that year, we find Johnson, for the first time, at a supper in Goldsmith's lodgings, in Wine-Office Court, along with a number of literary friends. Dr Percy, afwards Bishop of Dromore, was one of the party invited, and being intimate with the great lexicographer, was requested to call at his chambers and take him along with him. When walking together to the poet's lodging, Percy was struck with the unusual spruceness of Johnson's appearance in the studied neatness of his dress: he had on a new suit of clothes, a new hat, and a wig nicely powdered; and in the tout ensemble of his ap

parel there was a degree of smartness, so perfectly dissimilar to his ordinary habits and appearance, that it could not fail to prompt an inquiry on the part of his companion, as to the cause of this transformation. « Why, sir," said Johnson, « I hear that Goldsmith, who is a very great sloven, justifies his disregard of cleanliness and decency, quoting my practice, and I am desirous this night to show him a better example.

The connexion betwixt our author and Johnson was henceforth more closely cemented by daily association. Mutual communication of thought begot mutual esteem, and as their intercourse increased, their friendship improved. Nothing could have been more fortunate for Goldsmith. A man of his open improvident disposition was apt to stand in need of the assistance of a friend. The years, wisdom, and experience of Johnson, rendered his advice of the highest value, and from the kindness and promptitude with which he undertook and performed good offices, he might always be securely relied on in cases of difficulty or distress. It was not long before the improvidence of our author produced embarrassment in his circumstances, and we find the illustrious moralist the prompt and affectionate Mentor of his imprudent friend. The sums which he was now receiving as a writer, might naturally be supposed to have been at least equal to his wants, and more than sufficient to have kept him out of debt. But Goldsmith's affections were so social and generous, that when he had money he gave it most liberally away. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, if we find him soon after this period in distress for money, and even under arrest for his rent. He had just put the finishing stroke to his Vicar of Wakefield when the arrest took place, and was obliged to send for his friend Johnson to raise money by a sale of the manuscript.

Our author's situation, on this occasion, having been misstated, it may be proper to give an authentic detail of it as narrated by Johnson himself.

<< I received one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as pos

sible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion: I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady I should soon return; and having gone to a bookseller sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill.">

Mr Newberry was the person with whom Johnson thus bargained for the « Vicar of Wakefield." The price agreed on was certainly little for a work of such merit; but the author's name was not then conspicuously known to the public, and the purchaser took the whole risk on himself by paying the money down. So unconscious was he of the real worth of his purchase, and so little sanguine of its success, that he kept the manuscript by him for a long time after. Indeed, it was not till the author's fame had been fully established by the publication of his << Traveller," that the publisher ventured to put the « Vicar of Wakefield » to the press; and then he reaped the twofold advantage arising from the intrinsic merit of the work, and the high character of its author. When Boswell, some years afterwards, remarked to Johnson, that there had been too little value given by the bookseller on this occasion: « No, sir,” said he, « the price was sufficient when the book was sold; for then the fame of Goldsmith had not been elevated, as it afterwards was, by his «Traveller ;" and the bookseller had such faint hopes of profit by his bargain, that he kept the manuscript by him a long time, and did not publish till after the << Traveller >> had appeared. Then, to be sure, it was accidentally worth more money. Had it been sold after the « Traveller,» twice as much money would have been given for it, though sixty guineas was no mean price. The bookseller had the advantage of Gold