purchased by five and twenty cups of tea, I have often had the happiness to enjoy for less than half the number. He was easily led into topicks; it was not easy to turn him from them; but who would wish it? If a man wanted to shew himself off, by getting up and riding upon him, he was sure to run restive and kick him off: you might as safely have backed Bucephalus, before Alexander had lunged him. Neither did he always like to be over-fondled; when a certain gentleman out-acted his part in this way, he is said to have demanded of him-" What provokes your risibility, Sir? Have I said any thing that you understand? Then I ask pardon of the rest of the company-" But this is Henderson's anecdote of him, and I won't swear he did not make it himself. The following apology, however, I myself drew from him, when speaking of his tour, I observed to him upon some passages as rather too sharp upon a country and people, who had entertained him so handsomely" Do you think so, Cumbey?" he replied, "Then I give you leave to say, and you may quote me for it, that there are more gentlemen in Scotland than there are shoes."

Oliver Goldsmith began at this time to write for the stage, and it is to be lamented that he did not begin at an earlier period of life to turn his genius to dramatick compositions, and much more to be lamented, that, after he had begun, the succeeding period of his life was so soon cut off. There is no doubt but his genius, when more familiarised to the business, would have inspired him to accomplish great things. His first comedy of The Good-natured Man was read

and applauded in its manuscript by Edmund Burke, and the circle in which he then lived and moved : under such patronage it came with those testimonials to the director of Covent Garden theatre, as could not fail to open all the avenues to the stage, and bespeak all the favour and attention from the performers and the publick, that the applauding voice of him, whose applause was fame itself, could give it. This comedy has enough to justify the good opinion of its literary patron, and secure its author against any loss of reputation, for it has the stamp of a man of talents upon it, though its popularity with the audience did not quite keep pace with the expectations, that were grounded on the fiat it had antecedently been honoured with. It was a first effort however, and did not discourage its ingenious author from invoking his Muse a second time. It was now, whilst his labours were in projection, that I first met him at the British Coffee-house, as I have already related somewhat out of place. He dined with us as a visitor, introduced as I think by sir Joshua Reynolds, and we held a consultation upon the naming of his comedy, which some of the company had read, and which he detailed to the rest after his manner with a great deal of good humour. Somebody suggestedShe Stoops to Conquer—and that title was agreed upon. When I perceived an embarrassment in his manner towards me, which I could readily account for, I lost no time to put him at his ease, and I' flatter myself I was successful. As my heart was ever warm towards my contemporaries, I did not counterfeit, but really felt a cordial interest in his behalf, and I had soon the pleasure to perceive

that he credited me for my sin cerity You and I," said he, "have very different motives for resorting to the stage. I write for money, and care little about fame." I was touched by this melancholy confession, and from that moment busied myself assiduously amongst all my connexions in his cause. The whole company pledged themselves to the support of the ingenuous poet, and faithfully kept their promise to him. In fact he needed all that could be done for him, as Mr. Colman, then manager of Covent Garden theatre, protested against the comedy, when as yet he had not struck upon a name for it. Johnson at length stood forth in all his terrours as champion for the piece, and backed by us his clients and retainers demanded a fair trial. Colman again protested, but, with that salvo for his own reputation, liberally lent his stage to one of the most eccentrick productions,that ever found its way to it, and She Stoops to Conquer was put into rehearsal.

our

We were not over-sanguine of success, but perfectly determined to struggle hard for our author: we accordingly assembled strength at the Shakspeare Tavern in a considerable body for an ear ly dinner, where Samuel Johnson took the chair at the head of a long table, and was the life and soul of the corps: the poet took post silently by his side with the Burkes, sir Joshua Reynolds, Fitzherbert, Caleb Whitefoord and a phalanx of North-British predetermined applauders, under the banner of Major Mills, all good men and true. Our illustrious president was in inimitable glee, and poor Goldsmith that day took all his raillery as patiently and complacently as my friend Boswell Vol. III. No. 7. 2W

would have done any day, or every day of his life. In the mean time we did not forget our duty, and though we had a better comedy going, in which Johnson was chief actor, we betook ourselves in good time to our separate and allotted posts, and waited the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our stations were pre-concerted, so were our signals for plaudits arranged and determined upon in a manner, that gave every one his cue where to look for them, and how to follow them up.

We had amongst us a very worthy and efficient member, long since lost to his friends and the world at large, Adam Drummond, of amiable memory, who was gifted by nature with the most sonorous, and at the same time the most contagious, laugh, that ever echoed from the human lungs. The neighing of the horse of the son of Hystaspes was a whisper to it; the whole thunder of the theatre could not drown it. This kind and ingenuous friend fairly forewarned us that he knew no more when to give his fire, than the cannon did that was planted on a battery. He desired therefore to have a flapper at his elbow, and I had the honour to be deputed to that office. I planted him in an upper box, pretty nearly over the stage, in full view of the pit and galleries, and perfectly well situated to give the echo all its play through the hollows and recesses of the theatre. The success of our manœuvres was complete. All eyes were upon Johnson, who sate in a front row of a side box, and when he laughed every body thought themselves warranted to roar. In the mean time my friend followed signals with a rattle so irresistibly comick, that, when he had repeated it several times, the attention

of the spectators was so engrossed by his person and performances, that the progress of the play seemed likely to become a secondary object, and I found it prudent to insinuate to him that he might halt his musick without any prejudice to the author; but alas, it was now too late to rein him in; he had laughed upon my signal where he found no joke, and now unluckily he fancied that he found a joke in almost every thing that was said; so that nothing in nature could be more mal-a-propos than some of his bursts every now and then were. These were dangerous moments, for the pit began to take umbrage; but we carried our play through, and triumphed not only over Colman's judgment, but our

own.

As the life of poor Oliver Goldsmith was now fast approaching to its period, I conclude my account of him with gratitude for the epitaph he bestowed on me in his poem called Retaliation. It was upon a proposal started by Edmund Burke, that a party of friends who had dined together at sir Joshua Reynolds's and my house, should meet at the St. James's CoffeeHouse, which accordingly took place, and was occasionally repeated with much festivity and good fellowship. Dr. Bernard, Dean of Derry, a very amiable and old friend of mine, Dr. Douglas, since Bishop of Salisbury, Johnson, David Garrick, sir Joshua Reynolds, Oliver Goldsmith, Edmund and Richard Burke, Hickey, with two or three others constituted our party. At one of these meetings an idea was suggested of extemporary epitaphs upon the parties present; pen and ink were called for, and Garrick off hand wrote an epitaph with a good deal of humour upon poor Goldsmith, who was

the first in jest, as he proved to be in reality, that we committed to the grave. The dean also gave him an epitaph, and sir Joshua illuminated the dean's verses with a sketch of his bust in pen and ink, inimitably caricatured. Neither Johnson nor Burke wrote any thing, and when I perceived Oliver was rather sore, and seemed to watch me with that kind of attention, which indicated his expectation of something in the same kind of burlesque as their's, I thought it time to press the joke no further, and wrote a few couplets at a side-table, which when I had finished and was called upon by the company to exhibit, Goldsmith with much agitation besought me to spare him, and I was about to tear them, when Johnson wrested them out of my hand, and in a loud voice read them at the table. I have now lost all recollection of them, and in fact they were little worth remembering; but as they were serious and complimentary, the effect they had upenGoldsmith was the more pleasing for being so entirely unexpected. The concluding line, which is the only one I can call to mind, was

"All mourn the poet, I lament the man-,"

This I recollect, because he repeated it several times, and seemed much gratified by it. At our next meeting he produced his epitaphs as they stand in the little posthumous poem above mentioned, and this was the last time he ever enjoyed the company of his friends.

As he had served up the company under the similitude of various sorts of meat, I had in the mean time figured them under that of liquors, which little poem I rather think was printed, but of this I am not sure. Goldsmith sickened and died, and we had one concluding meeting at my house,

when it was decided to publish his Retaliation, and Johnson at the same time undertook to write an epitaph for our lamented friend, to whom we proposed to erect a a monument by subscription in Westminster-Abbey. This epitaph Johnson executed; but in the criticism, that was attempted against it, and in the Round-Robin signed at Mr. Beauclerc's house I had no part. I had no acquaintance with that gentleman, and was never in his house in my life.

Thus died Oliver Goldsmith in his chambers in the Temple at a period of life, when his genius was yet in its vigour, and fortune seemed disposed to smile upon him. I have heard Dr. Johnson relate with infinite humour the circumstance of his rescuing him from a ridiculous dilemma by the purchase-money of his Vicar of Wakefield, which he sold on his behalf to Dodsley, and, as I think, for the sum of ten pounds only. He had run up a debt with his landlady for board and lodging of some few pounds, and was at his wit's-end how to wipe off the score and keep a roof over his head, except by closing with a very staggering proposal on her part, and taking his creditor to wife, whose charms were very far

from alluring, whilst her demands were extremely urgent. In this crisis of his fate he was found by Johnson in the act of meditating on the melancholy alternative before him. He shewed Johnson his manuscript of The Vicar of Wakefield, but seemed to be without any plan, or even hope, of raising money upon the disposal of it; when Johnson cast his eye upon it, he discovered something that gave him hope, and imme diately took it to Dodsley, who paid down the price above-mentioned in ready-money, and added an eventual condition upon its future sale. Johnson described the precautions he took in concealing the amount of the sum he. had in hand, which he prudently administered to him by a guinea at a time. In the event he paid off the landlady's score, and redeemed the person of his friend from her embraces. Goldsmith had the joy of finding his ingenious work succeed beyond his hopes, and from that time began to place a confidence in the resources of his talents, which thenceforward enabled him to keep his station in society, and cultivate the friendship of many eminent persons, who, whilst they smiled at his eccentricities, esteemed him for his genius and good qualities,

AN account of the literature of this State might be comprized in a single page, and if the length of the account was regarded only in the proportion it bears to its interest, that page would be deemed tedious. There are only ten presses in the state, viz. two in Ra

leigh, two in Newbern, and one in each of the towns of Edenton, Halifax, Wilmington, Fayetteville, Salisbury, and Warrenton. From each of these presses issues a weekly paper, except the one in Salisbury, which is employed in printing handbills and pamphlets.

The papers are compilations, and the few books published are law books and the doggrel hymns of religious enthusiasts, and now and then a trash novel, which is commonly exchanged for other trash at the Literary Fair, I will give as complete a list as I am able of all the original works ever published in this State, with a brief character annexed.

1. Haywood's Reports of Cases, decided in the Superiour Courts of this State. A valuable book, published by Hodge & Boylan, 1800. N. B. A second volume is now in the press of Wm. Boylan.

2. A Journey to Lake Drummond, by Lemuel Sawyer, The events are without interest; the remarks puerile, and the language the most superlative bombast. Published eight or ten years ago.

3. Matilda Berkley, a novel. About upon a level with the Massachusetts novel of the Coquette, or Eliza Wharton, Published by J. Gales in 1804.

4. Taylor's Reports of Cases, adjudged in the Supreme Court of North Carolina. Of a moderate reputation. Marlin & Ogden. 1802.

5. History of the Ketukick Baptist Association, by Burkit and Read. Boylan. 1804.

6. A Masonick Ritual, published under the direction of the G. Lodge of North Carolina. The best of the kind. Sims. 1806.

7. Davies's Calvary. An excellent system. Hodge. 1798. Cameron's Law Reports are in the press of J. Gales, of which there are favourable expectations.

These are the only publications, which I recollect, that have assumed the dignity of a volume. Of political and religious pamphlets we have quantum sufficit. The Rev. Joseph Caldwell, president of the University of N. Carolina, is the

first scientifick and literary char acter in the State. He is now employed in writing a book on Mathematicks, intended as a schoolbook. Two sermons and an eulogium on Gen. Washington by him, which have been published separately in pamphlets, are handsome specimens of his abilities. I know of no other pamphlets that merit the respect of being named.

There is in this state one university and several academies, but none of them are supported by permanent funds. The university was founded about fourteen years ago, and received from the state a donation of all balances then due the state from revenue officers, all confiscated and escheat proper ty, and a loan of $20,000. To a "huge mishapen pile," which is placed on a high rocky eminence twenty-eight miles to the westward of this, has been given the name of the College, and a donation from Gen. Thomas Person built a neat chapel. After considerable difficulties were experienced on account of incompetent teachers and insurrections among the students, the institution, under the direction of Mr. Caldwell, two professors, and two tutors, acquired regularity & consistency in its exercises, when our enlightened legislature discov ered that education was inconsistent with republicanism; that it created an aristocracy of the learned, who would trample upon the rights and liberties of the ignorant, and that an equality of intellect was necessary to preserve the equality of rights. Influenced by these wise and patriotick considerations, the legislature gave to themselves again, what they had before given to the University. The institution now languishes; Mr. Caldwell's anti-republican love of literature, and not the emoluments of his