d association with the great and good. The
reason why Goldsmith's career at Dublin was not radiant was dogging
poverty. In the midst of penury no sooner was money in his pockets
than silver and copper sped in response to any petition made upon his
unfailing if not unerring charity.

The poor fellow gave the very clothing from his bed. In the anguish of
pity, giving blankets, and sleeping cold and being laughed at and
scorned, involved the warranty of self-suffering upon the eager deed.
The lad lived in utter misery through the brutal tyranny of his tutor,
Wilder, a dissolute drunkard, a disgrace to his own times and
incomprehensible to ours. Death overtook this man in a drunken brawl.
His crimes were not without attenuating circumstances. College tutors
have trials enough to crush their characters, when they have
characters to crush.

Living in actual need as far as money was concerned, and a destitution
of interest more to be pitied, Oliver passed in obscurity through the
University. The Rev. Charles Goldsmith, dying in 1747, made the
position of his son even more precarious and pathetic, and a career of
mishap and misunderstanding still harder to endure. We find dear Noll
failing in scholarships, or losing through mere negligence the prizes
he had gained, and, lastly, with a philosophic indifference to the
transitory nature of mortal learning, pawning the books he ought to
have studied. It was a doleful business. He had, as he said, "a knack
of hoping." It must have been a clever trick, for it never quite
failed. He wrote ballads that were bought up eagerly, and merrily
sung, cheering the poor in the common streets of Dublin. He made a
shilling or two now and then upon these transactions. These, we can
imagine, brought him more pride and pleasure than academic prowess
could have afforded. One night he gave a supper to his friends, who
were all of a lively and hilarious order, and was for this, before his
assembled guests, thrashed by his tutor for his breach of college
discipline. Selling his remaining books and his clothes, he fled from
this scene of many sorrows. At Dublin, Goldsmith's diligence, however
faulty, was enough to gain for him commendation from time to time, but
no distinction worth mentioning. His worst crime is seen in a riot in
which he was not a ringleader. He scraped into his scrapes as he
scraped through his examinations.

These days were most desolate. His flight was not final. Reconciled
to h