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    The Vicar of Wakefield
    The Vicar of Wakefield
    The Vicar of Wakefield
    Ebook260 pages3 hours

    The Vicar of Wakefield

    By Oliver Goldsmith

    3.5/5

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    There are an hundred faults in this Thing, and an hundred things might be said to prove them beauties. But it is needless. A book may be amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single absurdity. The hero of this piece unites in himself the three greatest characters upon earth; he is a priest, an husbandman, and the father of a family. He is drawn as ready to teach, and ready to obey, as simple in affluence, and majestic in adversity. In this age of opulence and refinement whom can such a character please? Such as are fond of high life, will turn with disdain from the simplicity of his country fire-side. Such as mistake ribaldry for humour, will find no wit in his harmless conversation; and such as have been taught to deride religion, will laugh at one whose chief stores of comfort are drawn from futurity.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStart Classics
    Release dateDec 1, 2013
    ISBN9781627938952

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    Reviews for The Vicar of Wakefield

    3.5/5

    322 ratings21 reviews

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    • 3/5
      This is the story of a humble, gullible Vicar who lived the life of Job. I listened to this on an audio book as well as reading along. I felt the reader had a very false voice that was in excess. The story was very slow moving and almost unbelievable, but had a few amusing spots. I persisted! The novel is billed as a satire; but evidently I didn't "get it."
    • 3/5
      I had to confess I couldn't make up my mind about this book. I neither like nor dislike it and I still wonder if it was worth reading.Dr. Primrose is a strange creature: sometimes naiv or simply-hearted (don't know which expresses my meaning best), that I want to shake him, or he is kind of dignified in a very arrogant manner (no, that's perhaps not the right description, but nearly and I'm lacking the right words even in German) so I did not wonder what happened to him. It's amazing or even refreshing that he founds happyness anyhow.I don't think this to be moral literature (what I really mean is "Erbauungsliteratur" but how to translate this????) and I can't put it in a genre for myself. Strange literature is a category I would choose ;-)
    • 3/5
      A proper English novel that was very preachy and it felt like the values of the author were being shoved down my throat. Got through it, but I wouldn't recommend it.
    • 3/5
      Curiosity satisfied, but not really worth it. Written in the 1760s, here is the tale of a countryside vicar who falls upon hard times in the footsteps of Job and ... no, that's pretty much it. You've heard the Job story, so you know this one. It's also a satire of its times, so living in the 18th century is strongly recommended for a full appreciation.The Vicar of Wakefield gets a mention in a ton of 19th century classics so I presumed it was something worth reading. It is, for the sake of sampling some English literature history - if you can tolerate a well-disguised climax that occurs halfway through, a whole lot of sermons, and such an avalanche of coincidences that even Dickens would say yeah, that's too much. There were a couple of funny bits, but today's newspaper probably rates the same amount. I still love the classics but I didn't love this.
    • 4/5
      Quite amusing satire of mid-eighteenth century English society. However, I didn't think it was as good as Goldsmith's famous play, "She Stoops to Conquer".
    • 2/5
      This book... well, it was ok. I know the main character is a priest, but he got a little too preach-y for my taste. I understand that he was trying to give his family something to look forward to, but it became so repetitive. Additionally, the ending was just too perfect, and I don't mean in the "I absolutely loved it" sort of way. Everything was wrapped up too nicely. It brought "happily ever after" and "what goes around comes around" to a whole new level; I think Disney would have even said it was too much. What is the likelihood that the vicar ends up in debtor's prison with one of the men who helped his landlord kidnap his oldest daughter? Then also, what is the likelihood that he actually would have schemed ahead (after kidnapping her) so he would have leverage over the landlord? Additionally, how could he know for certain who it was that kidnapped the younger daughter? I could go on and on! As I said before, it's too perfect of an ending. I'm not a fan.

      I WILL say this, however: I would definitely recommend this as a reference or, at the very least, a talking point for a philosophy vs. religion or similar essay. There are several chapters within that would easily strengthen one's argument, clarify a point or, at the very least, allow the writer to play devil's advocate, depending on your position.
    • 2/5
      The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith is hard to describe. Partly moralistic, partly comic, partly political, and partly I don't know what, this short novel is a strange little animal that is by all accounts no stranger than its author. The story is narrated by a vicar who falls upon hard times and must remove with his family to a much less profitable post. From there, the family's distresses are increased by their intimacy with a local nobleman who eventually seduces the eldest daughter. In the end everything turns around happily after a series of improbable coincidences and exaggerated setbacks. Apparently many of the characters' experiences were drawn from Goldsmith's own life as an indigent wanderer, which was interesting. The moralistic bits of the novel come in the form of the vicar's musings, while the comic parts come from his attempts (largely ignored) to impart gravity and piety to his family. He's not a dry moralist, however, and often joins in or allows frivolous amusements because he doesn't wish to deny his children pleasure. His wife is also a source of humor, as some of his descriptions of her are somewhat uncomplimentary (and true). He himself is also quite funny in his naivete and fierce devotion to the doctrine of monogamy (yes, random).I knew nothing about this novel before I picked it up, and am still a bit puzzled by it. Apparently I'm not the only one; the afterword talks about the novel's deficiencies (ridiculous coincidences, stilted dialogue, and one-dimensional characters) as well as its enduring and rather unexplainable popularity. The prose has a graceful, quotable cadence to it, which makes the awkward dialogue even odder. The novel might have been better as a play. Definitely didn't love this one and probably won't reread.
    • 4/5
      A short, flat-prosed 18th century "sentimental novel" that was widely read by subsequent authors.
    • 4/5
      I can certainly see how this book was all the rage back in the late 1700's! It has sex, violence, villains and heroes. Quite a bit of stuff packed in this one.
    • 2/5
      I think this book was fine, though its unfinished ending drives me nuts!
    • 4/5
      What's going on here? According to the introduction and notes, it's satire on literary convention. But satire seems too harsh- more like loving parody. I have very little to say, except that if i had to read one eighteenth century novel, this would be it: it's short, it's not repetitive, the prose is lean and clean, it's funny, and it's full of good cheer. And the characters have persuasive arguments for the importance of neo-classical ideals in literature, of which recent authors of bloated monstrosities and self-referential navel gazing turgidities are much in need. And the soft-hearted Tory politics are pleasant even for a crusty old revolutionary such as myself: "I found that monarchy was the best government for the poor to live in, and commonwealths for the rich. I found that riches in general were in every country another name for freedom; and that no man is so fond of liberty himself as not to be desirous of subjecting the will of some individuals in society to his own," chapter 20. Amen to that, vicar's son.
    • 5/5
      Delightful~I avoided this book for ages, and find I've only cheated myself of a great read. Truth to tell, I read the 1971 Folio Society edition first, with some fun plates depicting scenes from the story.
    • 3/5
      What I thought was going to be a sweet, charming chronicle of the life of a vicar and his family took a definite maudlin turn which I was not expecting. Then it turned into an absolute glut of marriages. It was all very "of-the-period" and I guess I should have been on notice (or read some of the reviews). I was amused by parts of it and I enjoyed the narration of the audiobook, but this book was just OK for me.
    • 1/5
      What a struggle. I did not enjoy this at all, and even though it is under 200 pages it took me 2 full weeks to read.

      The vicar is not a nice man (he dumps out his daughters' beauty concoctions, and finds it funny; he mocks the other prisoners as bad men--yet he is a prisoner too). The notes in my edition were great, and point out the many instances in the book where Goldsmith has reused key phrases from his past essays, etc. So he reused his own nonfiction writing, and cobbled it together with a really sappy story.

      Blech.
    • 5/5
      Finally I have managed to stay awake at bedtime long enough to reach the end of this novel. I had to concentrate quite hard to stay focused on the 18th century turn of phrase in this farcical romantic tale written in 1762, and consequently kept falling asleep with exhaustion after just 2 pages; but don't let my laziness put you off! In the end I found it to be a highly amusing romp with an unexpected happy ending. It is written in the form of a memoir of the fictional Dr. Primrose, a ridiculously naive and trusting country pastor. His good-natured generosity get him and his large family into a heap of trouble. Dr. Primrose goes to great lengths in order to be hospitable to everyone he encounters, even those he doesn't find particularly savoury. His method of discouraging visits from exploitative distant relatives is to contrive a reason to lend them something of value like a horse, trusting that it be returned on their next visit, but knowing full well that is the last he will see of either the horse or the disagreeable relation. On some occasions my progress was hampered by the chapter headings which seem unnecessarily long winded and complicated and took quit a few minutes of puzzling over to get the gist. Chapter XXIX might be the worst culprit:"The equal Dealings of Providence demonstrated with Regard to the Happy and Miserable here below. That from the nature of Pleasure and Pain, the Wretched must be repaid the Balance of their Sufferings in the Life hereafter."Once you get over the difficult language though, the story moves along at a surprisingly rapid pace with very little in the way of metaphorical or descriptive narrative. I really enjoyed reading it and I think it is even worth a second read soon.
    • 3/5
      This is one of those classics that I probably should have read years ago. It's the story of Mr. Primrose, a proud but good man, who suffers at the hands of both ill fortune and human malice. As the novel begins, Mr. Primrose seems to be the man who has everything: a good post in a friendly and peaceful town, a small but sufficient invested fortune, a loving wife whom he equally adores, two beautiful and refined daughters, two honest and hardworking elder sons, and two adorable little ones. But as one would expect from a sentimental novel, trials and tribulations soon begin, bringing him to debtor's prison and to the point of despair. But never fear: through a series of miraculous coincidences, all ends well.Had The Vicar of Wakefield been written within the last 50 years, I would have dismissed it as little more than cliché and melodrama; but since it was written in 1761, I recognized it as the source of many clichés to follow and forgive it the excesses and improbabilities of its happy ending. Goldsmith presents a charming portrait of the Primrose family, full of the little details of life in the eighteenth century English countryside. The character of Deborah Primrose, the vicar's adored wife, is particularly well-drawn as a woman devoted to her husband but even more devoted to her ambitions for her daughters--with near-tragic results. While I enjoyed this brief, fast-paced novel, it wasn't exactly a stunner. But I'd recommend it especially to anyone with an interest in the history and development of the English novel.
    • 4/5
      I loved this - for all I'm enamored with 17th & 18th Century British history and literature at the moment. A few bits of narrative I found clunky and overwrought, but for the most part I thoroughly enjoyed it. I'm delighted reading of the attitudes and social mores of this period, and Goldsmith tells an enjoyable tale that resolves with some fun and unexpected (at least to me) twists!
    • 3/5
      Reverend Charles Primrose is the father of a large family and a vicar. He has a private income which supports him in a nice lifestyle. But his income is suddenly lost and he must move to the country and begin a new modest life there. The new landlord is a notorious seducer, but for some reason, they don't seem to listen to this, and push their daughters in his direction. One of their daughters IS seduced, and then their lives fall apart.From a pure plot or story view, this is action packed, but totally melodramatic. On his way from rescuing his wayward daughter, he comes home to find their house has burned down. His evil landlord demands payment. They wind up in debtor's prison. And so on, and on. It is completely unbelievable.As for the characters, it's pretty hard to believe too. They are so completely naive to the ways of the world. Both the vicar and his son are swindled by the same con man. They remain oblivious to the motives of their landlord way past the point of credibility. They are vain. The vicar himself is given to sermonizing at the drop of a hat and takes offense if others don't enjoy this. They are likable enough, though, and I was hoping they would wise up at some point. The craziest part is at the end, when it turns out that Olivia is actually MARRIED to the seducing landlord. One of the other characters actually "wishes her joy!?" Yeah, that would make me happy, all right, to be stuck married to a lying libertine.And yet, it was kind of fun to read. I skipped some of the long sermons and stuff. Boring. But I did finish it. This was a very popular book at the time, and later was popular as the subject of spoof and satire. Worth reading for that, and it is short, but otherwise, I wouldn't really recommend it. 2.5 stars, mostly for the fact that it is an influential book and for the unintentional humor.
    • 3/5
      Oliver Goldsmith was a funny character. He graduated at the bottom of his class, drifted through Europe playing the flute, eventually became a gambling junkie, and planned to emigrate to the U.S. but missed the boat ‘cause he got too sloshed the previous night. I saw this at a sidewalk sale for a buck. And the font was enticingly big. So I bought it. There are a few humorous lines, but there’s way too much stuff about the marriage prospects of the Vicar’s daughters. I gave up around page 45. The reason I give this 3 stars is because of this line from the preface: “A book may be amusing with numerous errors, or it may be dull without a single one.” Food for thought indeed. Couldn’t agree more.
    • 3/5
      This is the story of a humble, gullible Vicar who lived the life of Job. I listened to this on an audio book as well as reading along. I felt the reader had a very false voice that was in excess. The story was very slow moving and almost unbelievable, but had a few amusing spots. I persisted! The novel is billed as a satire; but evidently I didn't "get it."
    • 3/5
      I literally only wanted to read this because of a passing reference (or two) in Jane Austen's Emma! (Harriet gives a copy to Robert Martin, and Mrs Elton misquotes the verse about woman stooping to folly, I think!) I found an old library copy and couldn't resist. But, having suffered through Evelina and the like in the past, I had to brace myself. Goldsmith is slightly more witty than Burney, but still dedicates whole chapters to random subjects.The story, even in such a short book, is bonkers. Talk about melodrama! The vicar of the title lives an idyllic life with his loving wife and large family of two daughters and four sons until the proverbial hits the fan. He loses all his money, they have to move to another parish miles away belonging to a dodgy landowner who puts Willoughby and Wickham in the shade, his eldest daughter elopes but nobody is sure who with, the family house burns down, he's thrown in jail for not paying his rent, where he finds his son, sent away to earn his fortune, who has killed someone in a duel. I think! Mental, densely packed, but still just about readable!

    Book preview

    The Vicar of Wakefield - Oliver Goldsmith

    CHAPTER 1

    The description of the family of Wakefield; in which a kindred likeness prevails as well of minds as of persons

    I was ever of opinion, that the honest man who married and brought up a large family, did more service than he who continued single, and only talked of population. From this motive, I had scarce taken orders a year before I began to think seriously of matrimony, and chose my wife as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine glossy surfaces but such qualities as would wear well. To do her justice, she was a good-natured notable woman; and as for breeding, there were few country ladies who could shew more. She could read any English book without much spelling, but for pickling, preserving, and cookery, none could excel her. She prided herself also upon being an excellent contriver in house- keeping; tho' I could never find that we grew richer with all her contrivances. However, we loved each other tenderly, and our fondness encreased as we grew old. There was in fact nothing that could make us angry with the world or each other. We had an elegant house, situated in a fine country, and a good neighbourhood. The year was spent in moral or rural amusements; in visiting our rich neighbours, and relieving such as were poor. We had no revolutions to fear, nor fatigues to undergo; all our adventures were by the fire-side, and all our migrations from the blue bed to the brown.

    As we lived near the road, we often had the traveller or stranger visit us to taste our gooseberry wine, for which we had great reputation; and I profess with the veracity of an historian, that I never knew one of them find fault with it. Our cousins too, even to the fortieth remove, all remembered their affinity, without any help from the Herald's office, and came very frequently to see us. Some of them did us no great honour by these claims of kindred; as we had the blind, the maimed, and the halt amongst the number. However, my wife always insisted that as they were the same flesh and blood, they should sit with us at the same table. So that if we had not, very rich, we generally had very happy friends about us; for this remark will hold good thro' life, that the poorer the guest, the better pleased he ever is with being treated: and as some men gaze with admiration at the colours of a tulip, or the wing of a butterfly, so I was by nature an admirer of happy human faces. However, when any one of our relations was found to be a person of very bad character, a troublesome guest, or one we desired to get rid of, upon his leaving my house, I ever took care to lend him a riding coat, or a pair of boots, or sometimes an horse of small value, and I always had the satisfaction of finding he never came back to return them. By this the house was cleared of such as we did not like; but never was the family of Wakefield known to turn the traveller or the poor dependent out of doors.

    Thus we lived several years in a state of much happiness, not but that we sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to enhance the value of its favours. My orchard was often robbed by school-boys, and my wife's custards plundered by the cats or the children. The 'Squire would sometimes fall asleep in the most pathetic parts of my sermon, or his lady return my wife's civilities at church with a mutilated curtesy. But we soon got over the uneasiness caused by such accidents, and usually in three or four days began to wonder how they vext us.

    My children, the offspring of temperance, as they were educated without softness, so they were at once well formed and healthy; my sons hardy and active, my daughters beautiful and blooming. When I stood in the midst of the little circle, which promised to be the supports of my declining age, I could not avoid repeating the famous story of Count Abensberg, who, in Henry II's progress through Germany, while other courtiers came with their treasures, brought his thirty-two children, and presented them to his sovereign as the most valuable offering he had to bestow. In this manner, though I had but six, I considered them as a very valuable present made to my country, and consequently looked upon it as my debtor. Our eldest son was named George, after his uncle, who left us ten thousand pounds. Our second child, a girl, I intended to call after her aunt Grissel; but my wife, who during her pregnancy had been reading romances, insisted upon her being called Olivia. In less than another year we had another daughter, and now I was determined that Grissel should be her name; but a rich relation taking a fancy to stand godmother, the girl was, by her directions, called Sophia; so that we had two romantic names in the family; but I solemnly protest I had no hand in it. Moses was our next, and after an interval of twelve years, we had two sons more.

    It would be fruitless to deny my exultation when I saw my little ones about me; but the vanity and the satisfaction of my wife were even greater than mine. When our visitors would say, 'Well, upon my word, Mrs Primrose, you have the finest children in the whole country.'--'Ay, neighbour,' she would answer, 'they are as heaven made them, handsome enough, if they be good enough; for handsome is that handsome does.' And then she would bid the girls hold up their heads; who, to conceal nothing, were certainly very handsome. Mere outside is so very trifling a circumstance with me, that I should scarce have remembered to mention it, had it not been a general topic of conversation in the country. Olivia, now about eighteen, had that luxuriancy of beauty with which painters generally draw Hebe; open, sprightly, and commanding. Sophia's features were not so striking at first; but often did more certain execution; for they were soft, modest, and alluring. The one vanquished by a single blow, the other by efforts successfully repeated.

    The temper of a woman is generally formed from the turn of her features, at least it was so with my daughters. Olivia wished for many lovers, Sophia to secure one. Olivia was often affected from too great a desire to please. Sophia even represt excellence from her fears to offend. The one entertained me with her vivacity when I was gay, the other with her sense when I was serious. But these qualities were never carried to excess in either, and I have often seen them exchange characters for a whole day together. A suit of mourning has transformed my coquet into a prude, and a new set of ribbands has given her younger sister more than natural vivacity. My eldest son George was bred at Oxford, as I intended him for one of the learned professions. My second boy Moses, whom I designed for business, received a sort of a miscellaneous education at home. But it is needless to attempt describing the particular characters of young people that had seen but very little of the world. In short, a family likeness prevailed through all, and properly speaking, they had but one character, that of being all equally generous, credulous, simple, and inoffensive.

    CHAPTER 2

    Family misfortunes. The loss of fortune only serves to encrease the pride of the worthy

    The temporal concerns of our family were chiefly committed to my wife's management, as to the spiritual I took them entirely under my own direction. The profits of my living, which amounted to but thirty-five pounds a year, I made over to the orphans and widows of the clergy of our diocese; for having a sufficient fortune of my own, I was careless of temporalities, and felt a secret pleasure in doing my duty without reward. I also set a resolution of keeping no curate, and of being acquainted with every man in the parish, exhorting the married men to temperance and the bachelors to matrimony; so that in a few years it was a common saying, that there were three strange wants at Wakefield, a parson wanting pride, young men wanting wives, and ale-houses wanting customers. Matrimony was always one of my favourite topics, and I wrote several sermons to prove its happiness: but there was a peculiar tenet which I made a point of supporting; for I maintained with Whiston, that it was unlawful for a priest of the church of England, after the death of his first wife, to take a second, or to express it in one word, I valued myself upon being a strict monogamist. I was early innitiated into this important dispute, on which so many laborious volumes have been written. I published some tracts upon the subject myself, which, as they never sold, I have the consolation of thinking are read only by the happy Few. Some of my friends called this my weak side; but alas! they had not like me made it the subject of long contemplation. The more I reflected upon it, the more important it appeared. I even went a step beyond Whiston in displaying my principles: as he had engraven upon his wife's tomb that she was the only wife of William Whiston; so I wrote a similar epitaph for my wife, though still living, in which I extolled her prudence, oeconomy, and obedience till death; and having got it copied fair, with an elegant frame, it was placed over the chimney-piece, where it answered several very useful purposes. It admonished my wife of her duty to me, and my fidelity to her; it inspired her with a passion for fame, and constantly put her in mind of her end.

    It was thus, perhaps, from hearing marriage so often recommended, that my eldest son, just upon leaving college, fixed his affections upon the daughter of a neighbouring clergyman, who was a dignitary in the church, and in circumstances to give her a large fortune: but fortune was her smallest accomplishment. Miss Arabella Wilmot was allowed by all, except my two daughters, to be completely pretty. Her youth, health, and innocence, were still heightened by a complexion so transparent, and such an happy sensibility of look, as even age could not gaze on with indifference. As Mr Wilmot knew that I could make a very handsome settlement on my son, he was not averse to the match; so both families lived together in all that harmony which generally precedes an expected alliance. Being convinced by experience that the days of courtship are the most happy of our lives, I was willing enough to lengthen the period; and the various amusements which the young couple every day shared in each other's company, seemed to encrease their passion. We were generally awaked in the morning by music, and on fine days rode a hunting. The hours between breakfast and dinner the ladies devoted to dress and study: they usually read a page, and then gazed at themselves in the glass, which even philosophers might own often presented the page of greatest beauty. At dinner my wife took the lead; for as she always insisted upon carving every thing herself, it being her mother's way, she gave us upon these occasions the history of every dish. When we had dined, to prevent the ladies leaving us, I generally ordered the table to be removed; and sometimes, with the music master's assistance, the girls would give us a very agreeable concert. Walking out, drinking tea, country dances, and forfeits, shortened the rest of the day, without the assistance of cards, as I hated all manner of gaming, except backgammon, at which my old friend and I sometimes took a two-penny hit. Nor can I here pass over an ominous circumstance that happened the last time we played together: I only wanted to fling a quatre, and yet I threw deuce ace five times running. Some months were elapsed in this manner, till at last it was thought convenient to fix a day for the nuptials of the young couple, who seemed earnestly to desire it. During the preparations for the wedding, I need not describe the busy importance of my wife, nor the sly looks of my daughters: in fact, my attention was fixed on another object, the completing a tract which I intended shortly to publish in defence of my favourite principle. As I looked upon this as a master-piece both for argument and style, I could not in the pride of my heart avoid shewing it to my old friend Mr Wilmot, as I made no doubt of receiving his approbation; but not till too late I discovered that he was most violently attached to the contrary opinion, and with good reason; for he was at that time actually courting a fourth wife. This, as may be expected, produced a dispute attended with some acrimony, which threatened to interrupt our intended alliance: but on the day before that appointed for the ceremony, we agreed to discuss the subject at large. It was managed with proper spirit on both sides: he asserted that I was heterodox, I retorted the charge: he replied, and I rejoined. In the mean time, while the controversy was hottest, I was called out by one of my relations, who, with a face of concern, advised me to give up the dispute, at least till my son's wedding was over. 'How,' cried I, 'relinquish the cause of truth, and let him be an husband, already driven to the very verge of absurdity. You might as well advise me to give up my fortune as my argument.' 'Your fortune,' returned my friend, 'I am now sorry to inform you, is almost nothing. The merchant in town, in whose hands your money was lodged, has gone off, to avoid a statute of bankruptcy, and is thought not to have left a shilling in the pound. I was unwilling to shock you or the family with the account till after the wedding: but now it may serve to moderate your warmth in the argument; for, I suppose, your own prudence will enforce the necessity of dissembling at least till your son has the young lady's fortune secure.'--'Well,' returned I, 'if what you tell me be true, and if I am to be a beggar, it shall never make me a rascal, or induce me to disavow my principles. I'll go this moment and inform the company of my circumstances; and as for the argument, I even here retract my former concessions in the old gentleman's favour, nor will I allow him now to be an husband in any sense of the expression.'

    It would be endless to describe the different sensations of both families when I divulged the news of our misfortune; but what others felt was slight to what the lovers appeared to endure. Mr Wilmot, who seemed before sufficiently inclined to break off the match, was by this blow soon determined: one virtue he had in perfection, which was prudence, too often the only one that is left us at seventy-two.

    CHAPTER 3

    A migration. The fortunate circumstances of our lives are generally found at last to be of our own procuring

    The only hope of our family now was, that the report of our misfortunes might be malicious or premature: but a letter from my agent in town soon came with a confirmation of every particular. The loss of fortune to myself alone would have been trifling; the only uneasiness I felt was for my family, who were to be humble without an education to render them callous to contempt.

    Near a fortnight had passed before I attempted to restrain their affliction; for premature consolation is but the remembrancer of sorrow. During this interval, my thoughts were employed on some future means of supporting them; and at last a small Cure of fifteen pounds a year was offered me in a distant neighbourhood, where I could still enjoy my principles without molestation. With this proposal I joyfully closed, having determined to encrease my salary by managing a little farm.

    Having taken this resolution, my next care was to get together the wrecks of my fortune; and all debts collected and paid, out of fourteen thousand pounds we had but four hundred remaining. My chief attention therefore was now to bring down the pride of my family to their circumstances; for I well knew that aspiring beggary is wretchedness itself. 'You cannot be ignorant, my children,' cried I, 'that no prudence of ours could have prevented our late misfortune; but prudence may do much in disappointing its effects. We are now poor, my fondlings, and wisdom bids us conform to our humble situation. Let us then, without repining, give up those splendours with which numbers are wretched, and seek in humbler circumstances that peace with which all may be happy. The poor live pleasantly without our help, why then should not we learn to live without theirs. No, my children, let us from this moment give up all pretensions to gentility; we have still enough left for happiness if we are wise, and let us draw upon content for the deficiencies of fortune.' As my eldest son was bred a scholar, I determined to send him to town, where his abilities might contribute to our support and his own. The separation of friends and families is, perhaps, one of the most distressful circumstances attendant on penury. The day soon arrived on which we were to disperse for the first time. My son, after taking leave of his mother and the rest, who mingled their tears with their kisses, came to ask a blessing from me. This I gave him from my heart, and which, added to five guineas, was all the patrimony I had now to bestow. 'You are going, my boy,' cried I, 'to London on foot, in the manner Hooker, your great ancestor, travelled there before you. Take from me the same horse that was given him by the good bishop Jewel, this staff, and take this book too, it will be your comfort on the way: these two lines in it are worth a million, I have been young, and now am old; yet never saw I the righteous man forsaken, or his seed begging their bread. Let this be your consolation as you travel on. Go, my boy, whatever be thy fortune let me see thee once a year; still keep a good heart, and farewell.' As he was possest of integrity and honour, I was under no apprehensions from throwing him naked into the amphitheatre of life; for I knew he would act a good part whether vanquished or victorious. His departure

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