slow. A well-known passage from Boswell must here be reproduced:—‘Chamier once asked him [Goldsmith], what he meant by _slow_, the last word in the first line of _The Traveller_, Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow. Did he mean tardiness of locomotion? Goldsmith, who would say something without consideration, answered “yes.” I [Johnson] was sitting by, and said, “No, Sir, you do not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean, that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude.” Chamier believed then that I had written the line as much as if he had seen me write it.’ [Birkbeck Hill’s _Boswell_, 1887, iii. 252–3.) It is quite possible, however, that Goldsmith meant no more than he said. the rude Carinthian boor. ‘Carinthia,’ says Cunningham, ‘was visited by Goldsmith in 1755, and still (1853) retains its character for inhospitality.’ Campania. ‘Intended,’ says Bolton Corney, ‘to denote _La campagna di Roma_. The portion of it which extends from Rome to Terracina is scarcely habitable.’ a lengthening chain. Prior compares Letter iii of _The Citizen of the World_, 1762, i. 5:—‘The farther I travel I feel the pain of separation with stronger force, those ties that bind me to my native country, and you, are still unbroken. By every remove, I only drag a greater length of chain.’ But, as Mitford points out, Cibber has a similar thought in his _Comical Lovers_, 1707, Act v:—‘When I am with Florimel, it [my heart] is still your prisoner, _it only draws a longer chain after it_.’ And earlier still in Dryden’s ‘All for Love’, 1678, Act ii, Sc. 1:— My life on’t, he still drags a chain along, That needs must clog his flight. with simple plenty crown’d. In the first edition this read ‘where mirth and peace abound.’ the luxury of doing good. Prior compares Garth’s _Claremont_, 1715, where he speaks of the Druids:— Hard was their Lodging, homely was their Food, For all their _Luxury was doing Good_. my prime of life. He was seven-and-twenty when he landed at Dover in February, 1756. That, like the circle bounding, etc. Cf. _Vicar of Wakefield_, 1766, ii. 160–1 (ch. x):—‘Death, the only friend of the wretched, for a little while mocks the weary traveller with the view, and like his horizon, still flies before him.’ [Prior.] And find no spot of all the world my own. Prior compares his namesake’s lines _In the Beginning of_ [Jacques] _Robbe’s Geography_, 1700:— My destin’d Miles I shall have gone, By THAMES or MAESE, by PO or RHONE, And _found no Foot of Earth my own._ above the storm’s career. Cf. 1. 190 of _The Deserted Village._