fascination of style.

At one time Dr. Johnson said of him, "He is now writing a natural history, and will make it as agreeable as a Persian tale."

For the periodicals of the day he wrote one hundred and twenty-two "Chinese Letters," as they were called. They have since been published under the title of a "Citizen of the World." Most of them purport to be written by a Chinese traveler in Europe to his friends in the far East. Thus Goldsmith finds opportunity to exercise his wit and good-natured satire against the foibles and inconsistencies of European customs, principles, and manners.

The "Traveler," the "Deserted Village," the "Hermit," and "Retaliation" Retaliation" are the most admired of his poems. Of the 66 'Traveler" it was said that it was without one bad line." By most readers the "Deserted Village" is liked even better than the "Traveler." The " Hermit" is one of the most simple as well as one of the most touching poems ever written. The "Retaliation" is a fine example of keen satire free from hate or ill-will.

Of the Vicar of Wakefield," one of his best prose productions, critics speak in terms of the highest praise. They say that the diction is " chaste, correct, and elegant ; and that it "inculcates the purest lessons of morality and virtue.”

With all these rare gifts, Goldsmith was lamentably deficient in powers of conversation, in prudence, and sometimes in self-restraint. He was generous to a fault, and had warm friends among the best and wisest of men; but with their love they were forced to mingle pity that one with so sound a head and so good a heart

Gold

should not be able to take better care of himself. smith's influence upon the literature of the day was salutary. By its perfect naturalness it did much to aid in redeeming literature from an artificial, vapid style, and in bringing it back to a normal condition.

94. Dr. Beattie (1735-1803).- James Beattie was a Scotch schoolmaster, who, when introduced to the king, fêted and flattered by great wits and scholars, urged by the dignitaries of the Church of England to take orders, and promised other high preferments, declined all honors, and returned to his humble labors. And what had he done to merit such attentions ? — He had written an "Essay on Truth," without any thought of making himself famous, but simply to defend the Scottish church against the bold skepticism of Hume, the historian.

Neither the gift of expression nor the intellectual powers of Beattie were equal to those of Hume; but his pious intentions, warm enthusiasm, and poetic imagery won him many readers. The work was extravagantly praised, and enjoyed for some time a popularity greater than its real literary merits deserved.

Beattie was more at home in poetry than in philosophical argument. His best poem is "The Minstrel." It can scarcely rank among great poems; but it seems as fresh to-day as when it was written, an unmistakable proof of its universality and genuineness. The author's personality is traceable throughout the poem, for his "gentle, fervent spirit breathes in every line.' The modest simplicity of his unpretentious language is shown in the extract that follows.

IMPARTING TO A BOY THE FIRST IDEA OF A SUPREME BEING,

He had reached his fifth (or sixth) year, knew the alphabet, and could read a little; but had received no particular information with respect to the author of his being, because I thought he could not yet understand such information, and because I had learned, from my own experience, that to be made to repeat words not understood, is extremely detrimental to the faculties of a young mind. In a corner of a little garden, without informing any person of the circumstance, I wrote in the mold, with my finger, the three initial letters of his name, and sowing garden cresses in the furrows, covered up the seed, and smoothed the ground. Ten days after, he came running to me, and with astonishment in his countenance, told me that his name was growing in the garden. I smiled at the report, and seemed inclined to disregard it; but he insisted on my going to see what had happened. "Yes," said I carelessly, on coming to the place; "I see it is so; but there is nothing in this worth notice; it is a mere chance;" and I went away. He followed me, and taking hold of my coat, said with some earnestness: "It cannot be mere chance; somebody must have contrived matters so as to produce it." I pretend not to give his words or my own, for I have forgotten both; but I give the substance of what passed between us in such language as we both understood. "So you think," I said, "that what appears so regular as the letters of your name cannot be by chance?" "Yes," said he with firmness, **I think so," "Look at yourself," I replied, "and consider your hands and fingers, your legs and feet, and other limbs; are they not regular in their appearance, and useful to you?" He said they were, "Came you then hither," said I, "by chance?" "No," he answered; "that cannot be; something must have made ." And who is that something?" I asked. I had now gained the point I aimed at; and saw that his reason taught him — though he could not so express it—that what begins to be, must have a cause, and that what is formed with regularity must have had an intelligent cause, I therefore told him the name of the Great Being who made him and all the world, concerning whose adorable nature I gave him such information as I thought he could in some measure comprehend.

95. William was of noble lineage.

His sensibilities were so delicate as to be easily jarred. At school he suffered much from the rudeness of coarse natures. Even in manhood he shrank from public life, and declined every position that could bring him in contact with contentious factions or ambitious rivals. Greed for gold, the longing for fame, the struggle for position, all these seemed deplorable weaknesses to him, and he looked upon them with a feeling akin to contempt. His love of natural scenery, of animals, and of domestic enjoyments is manifest in all his writings.

From his retirement, Cowper looked out upon the mad strivings of the world, not with the eye of a cynic, nor the cold look of a philosopher, but with sad regrets that men should waste their energies in the pursuit of things, which, if obtained, would prove as unsatisfying as the apples of Sodom. As a moralist, he was faithful, yet not stern. As a satirist, he was keen without being bitter. Those who look upon his writings as the productions of a disordered mind, or the morbid effusions of a hypochondriac, should compare his sentiments with those expressed in the New Testament. It would be hard to find in all the annals of literature a writer whose views are so wholly in keeping with the teachings of the lowly Nazarene.

Although averse to the so-called scheming of statesmen, Cowper was a genuine patriot. Few men have so strong a love for country, or so warm a sympathy with the afflicted or oppressed. In language, Cowper had the rare gift of adaptation, suiting his words to the theme, and to the mood he meant to produce; and this

he did without sacrificing purity or propriety of expression. In interest and in finish, his "Task" and later poems are much superior to those written earlier. is regarded as the prince of letter writers.

He

Our com

Perhaps this brief notice of a man so true to nature, to mankind, and to God, could not close better than by the following extract from Chambers's Cyclopedia: "We have greater and loftier poets than Cowper, but none so entirely incorporated, as it were, with our daily existence none so completely a friend panion in woodland wanderings, and in moments of serious thought-ever gentle and affectionate, even in his transient fits of ascetic gloom a pure mirror of affections, regrets, feelings, and desires, which we have all felt or would wish to cherish. Shakespeare, Spenser, and Milton are spirits of ethereal kind. Cowper is a steady and valuable friend, whose society we may sometimes neglect for that of more splendid and attractive associates, but whose unwavering principle and purity of character, joined to rich intellectual powers, overflow upon us in secret, and bind us to him forever."

96. Robert Burns (1759-1796).-"Burns came as a potent auxiliary or fellow worker with Cowper, in bringing poetry into the channels of truth and nature. There was only about a year between the 'Task' and The Cotter's Saturday Night. "He is as literal as Cowper. The banks of the Doon are described as faithfully as those of the Ouse; and his views of human life and manners are as real and as finely moralized." "His whole soul was full of the finest harmony. So quick and genial were his sympathies that he was easily stirred into