"Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain;

Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,

And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed;
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth when every sport could please,
How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,

Where humble happiness endear'd each scene!
How often have I paus'd on every charm,

The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made!"

Trinity College, Dublin. From the rural quiet of Lissoy, Goldsmith plunged into the excitements of student life, at Trinity College, Dublin. As the family funds were small, he was entered as a Sizar that is, he had to wait on table and to do other menial offices in return for his education. At first he objected to the arrangement; but, largely through the persuasion of his good uncle Contarine, he was led to consent. He passed the necessary examination, and began the new life in 1745.

College Life. Of the details of his career at Trinity College we know little enough. He seems to have been a poor student, but a boon companion. His father died while he was still in residence, and he became more than ever dependent upon the kindness of his uncle. It was a happy-go-lucky sort of life that he led. Sometimes he borrowed money from a friend; sometimes he wrote street ballads, which he sold for five shillings apiece. On one occasion he was publicly reprimanded by the College authorities for "sedition and insurrection" in other

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words, for joining in a student riot. Another time he won a small money prize and on the strength of it gave an uproarious supper party in his rooms. For this he received a severe overhauling from his tutor, who was an ill-conditioned brute." Smarting under the disgrace, he ran away. He turned up at Lissoy half-starved; but his brother persuaded him to go back, and the matter was smoothed over. He left Trinity in 1749, hopeful and irresponsible as always, but at least with a degree.

Trying to Get Started. For a considerable period after leaving college, the young graduate lived with his mother at Ballymahon. The relations between them were not very cordial, and the blame seems to rest chiefly upon Oliver himself. The mother was strong-willed and somewhat hot-tempered; at times she must have been made nearly frantic by the shiftlessness of her son. It is said that Tony Lumpkin, at the Three Jolly Pigeons, represented one side of the writer's tastes; it is certain, at least, that he was quite content to enjoy the present hour and to let the world go by. But his relatives grew tired of such things. The young man was first stirred up to try to enter the church. Perfectly good-natured always, he presented himself; but "the church was denied the aid of the young man's eloquence and erudition." Next he became tutor in a wealthy family, survived for a time, and then once more found himself at loose ends.

Emigration. He next thought of emigrating to America, and actually got as far as Cork. Here, however, something mysterious happened, and his ship sailed without him. He paved the way for his return by some highly interesting letters, and finally arrived home again, penni

less. "If the good Uncle Contarine believed those letters," says Thackeray, "if Oliver's mother believed that story which the youth related of his going to Cork, with the purpose of embarking for America; of his having paid his passage-money, and having sent his kit on board; of the anonymous captain sailing away with Oliver's luggage, in a nameless ship, never to return; if Uncle Contarine and the mother at Ballymahon believed his stories, they must have been a very simple pair; as it was a very simple rogue indeed who cheated them."

The Law, and Medicine. The good uncle, however, was ready to help the young scapegrace again - this time as a law-student. Oliver reached Dublin with fifty pounds, spent it almost immediately, and once more wandered back to Ballymahon. At this point a certain Canon Goldsmith - a person of influence, apparently appears on the scene, with the proposal that the young man study medicine. The project was eagerly seized upon; the generous uncle again opened his purse; and in 1752 Oliver left Ireland as it turned out, forever.

Edinburgh and Leyden. At Edinburgh he remained. for a year and a half, finding life pleasant, if not profitable. Then he dropped certain hints to his uncle as to the need of studying medicine abroad at the famous University of Leyden. The uncle replied with his customary generosity and Goldsmith actually went to Leyden. The nature of his studies is not recorded; it is safe to suppose that they were not of a very burdensome nature. A characteristic anecdote is told of this period. He had borrowed money to leave Leyden, when he saw in a florist's window some rare and expensive bulbs. Knowing that his uncle was an

enthusiast in such things, he forgot all but the desire to give pleasure to this kind old friend. The bulbs were bought, and sent off to Ireland. Goldsmith, with a single guinea in his pocket, started on a tour of the Continent.

The Grand Tour. Both The Traveller and The Vicar of Wakefield show some traces of Goldsmith's experiences during his "grand tour" of Europe. But as a matter of fact we know nothing certain about what he really did, or where he really went. That he was on the Continent for about a year and during this time wandered pretty much all over Europe; that somewhere he picked up a medical degree; that he was back in England by February, 1756- these are the only sureties in the story.

We must not assume too readily that the charming pictures in the poem and the novel reflect what actually occurred. It is more probable that the thing is largely a product of his imagination, and that whatever happened, it did not take place in the charmingly idyllic and pastoral fashion reflected in the poem and the novel. The truth is that we have not enough evidence to construct any detailed account of his journeying. The end of the tale is plain enough, however. The generosity of Uncle Contarine had reached a limit, and Goldsmith found himself in London, hard put to it to earn his bread and butter.

"Grub Street." He now entered on a somber period. The London of the mid-eighteenth century was not kind to those who came there with neither money nor influence. Goldsmith had a struggle to live; his threadbare coat and his uncouth person caused him to meet with repeated