A small triumph, in the shape of an exhibition, worth some thirty shillings, induced the young awkward student to give a very humble kind of ball at his rooms. To this ball came an unexpected visitor in the shape of Wilder the tutor, who put the guests to flight, and publicly beat the host. Smarting under the disgrace, Goldsmith quitted the college, and was only induced, after a time, to return by the persuasions of his brother Henry, who brought about a reconciliation, or rather a truce, between Oliver and his tyrant. On the 27th of February, 1749, he obtained his B.A. degree, and, returning home, remained for a time idle and unemployed, looking out for the chance of a career. He presented himself for ordination and was refused; was a tutor in a private family, and left in consequence of a quarrel; was furnished with funds by Uncle Contarine to study law, lost his money, and appeared again at home destitute. At length, with some last assistance from the friendly uncle's purse, he started on a tour through Europe; travelling, not like the majority of British tourists in coach and on horseback, but on foot and alone, making his way from place to place, and studying men rather than science. Important, and rich in results for his whole future life, was this remarkable journey. And, among the most memorable of its effects was, that it suggested the poem of the "Traveller." Marvellously true were the views taken by the poor student of the various lands through which he passed; and remarkable were the words in which, in one of his early essays, he predicted the change that was coming upon France. Clearly and distinctly he heard the first far-off mutterings of the great revolutionary storm. He saw the growth and spread of the spirit of freedom among the people, and while others cried "peace" when there was no peace, he distinctly and clearly foresaw the great crash of revolution that was coming. Early in the year 1756 Oliver Goldsmith found himself alone in London. He was in his twenty-eighth year—without a profession, almost utterly friendless, and destitute of all means of subsistence. Of this part of his life he could be scarcely ever induced to speak in his later and happier days; but here and there we get a glimpse which shows us that it must have been dreary in the extreme. At Sir Joshua Reynolds's he once startled the company by commencing an anecdote with "When I lived among the beggars in Axe Lane;" and there is something very significant in the way in which the pangs of starvation are described in his "Natural History." He must have felt those pangs himself to describe them so graphically.