Authors, Irish -- 18th century -- Biography; Goldsmith, Oliver, 1730?-1774
"It now approached six o'clock in the evening; and as I had eaten no
breakfast, and as my spirits were raised, my appetite for dinner grew
uncommonly keen. At length the old woman came into the room with two
plates, one spoon, and a dirty cloth, which she laid upon the table. This
appearance, without increasing my spirits, did not diminish my appetite. My
protectress soon returned with a small bowl of sago, a small porringer of
sour milk, a loaf of stale brown bread, and the heel of an old cheese all
over crawling with mites. My friend apologized that his illness obliged him
to live on slops, and that better fare was not in the house; observing, at
the same time, that a milk diet was certainly the most healthful; and at
eight o'clock he again recommended a regular life, declaring that for his
part he would _lie down with the lamb and rise with the lark_. My
hunger was at this time so exceedingly sharp that I wished for another
slice of the loaf, but was obliged to go to bed without even that
refreshment.
"This lenten entertainment I had received made me resolve to depart as soon
as possible; accordingly, next morning, when I spoke of going, he did not
oppose my resolution; he rather commended my design, adding some very sage
counsel upon the occasion. 'To be sure,' said he, 'the longer you stay away
from your mother, the more you will grieve her and your other friends; and
possibly they are already afflicted at hearing of this foolish expedition
you have made.' Notwithstanding all this, and without any hope of softening
such a sordid heart, I again renewed the tale of my distress, and asking
'how he thought I could travel above a hundred miles upon one half crown?'
I begged to borrow a single guinea, which I assured him should be repaid
with thanks. 'And you know, sir,' said I, 'it is no more than I have done
for you.' To which he firmly answered, 'Why, look you, Mr. Goldsmith, that
is neither here nor there. I have paid you all you ever lent me, and this
sickness of mine has left me bare of cash. But I have bethought myself of a
conveyance for you; sell your horse, and I will furnish you a much better
one to ride on.' I readily grasped at his proposal, and begged to see the
nag; on which he led me to his bedchamber, and from under the bed he pulled
out a stout oak stick. 'Here he is,' said he; 'take this in your hand, and
it will carry you to your mother's with more safety than such a horse as
you ride.' I was in doubt, when I got it into my hand, whether I should
not, in the first place, apply it to his pate; but a rap at the street door
made the wretch fly to it, and when I returned to the parlor, he introduced
me, as if nothing of the kind had happened, to the gentleman who entered,
as Mr. Goldsmith, his most ingenious and worthy friend, of whom he had so
often heard him speak with rapture. I could scarcely compose myself, and
must have betrayed indignation in my mien to the stranger, who was a
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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