tion of man! how ungrateful a return to the trusty animal for all his services. (1)

Adieu.

ESSAY LXX.

FORTUNE PROVED NOT TO BE BLIND. THE STORY OF THE AVARICIOUS MILLER.

From Lien Chi Altangi to Hingpo.

The Europeans are themselves blind, who describe Fortune without sight. No first-rate beauty ever had finer eyes, or saw more clearly: they who have no other trade but seeking their fortune, need never hope to find her; coquet like, she flies from her close pursuers, and at last fixes on the plodding mechanic, who stays at home and minds his business.

I am amazed how men can call her blind, when by the company she keeps, she seems so very discerning. Whereever you see a gaming-table, be very sure Fortune is not there; (2) wherever you see a house with the doors open, be very sure Fortune is not there; when you see a man whose pocket-holes are laced with gold, be satisfied Fortune is not there; wherever you see a beautiful woman goodnatured and obliging, be convinced Fortune is never there. In short, she is ever seen accompanying industry, and as often trundling a wheel-barrow, as lolling in a coach and six.

If you would make Fortune your friend, or, to personize her no longer, if you desire, my son, to be rich and have money, be more eager to save than to acquire: when

(1) [This appeal in favour of an affectionate and faithful animal, exhibits the writer's characteristic benevolence.]

(2) [From the frequent remarks of a similar kind scattered through Goldsmith's writings, it is difficult to believe the stories of his being addicted to the vice tacitly condemned here, and on all other occasions when mentioned.]

people say, "Money is to be got here, and money is to be got there," take no notice; mind your own business; stay where you are, and secure all you can get, without stirring. When you hear that your neighbour has picked up a purse of gold in the street, never run out into the same street, looking about you in order to pick up such another; or when you are informed, that he has made a fortune in one branch of business, never change your own, in order to be his rival. Do not desire to be rich all at once, but patiently add farthing to farthing. Perhaps you despise the petty sum; and yet they who want a farthing, and have no friend that will lend them it, think farthings very good things. Whang, the foolish miller, when he wanted a farthing in his distress, found that no friend would lend, because they knew he wanted. Did you ever read the story of Whang in our books of Chinese learning? he who, despising small sums, and grasping at all, lost even what he had.

Whang, the miller, was naturally avaricious; nobody loved money better than he, or more respected those that had it. When people would talk of a rich man in company, Whang would say, I know him very well; he and I have been long acquainted; he and I are intimate; he stood for a child of mine: but if ever a poor man was mentioned, he had not the least knowledge of the man; he might be very well for aught he knew; but he was not fond of many acquaintances, and loved to choose his company.

Whang, however, with all his eagerness for riches, was in reality poor; he had nothing but the profits of his mill to support him; but though these were small, they were certain while his mill stood and went, he was sure of eating; and his frugality was such, that he every day laid some money by, which he would at intervals count and contemplate with much satisfaction. Yet still his acquisitions

were not equal to his desires; he only found himself above want, whereas he desired to be possessed of affluence.

One day as as he was indulging these wishes, he was informed, that a neighbour of his had found a pan of money under ground, having dreamed of it three nights running before. These tidings were daggers to the heart of poor Whang. "Here am I," says he, "toiling and moiling from morning till night for a few paltry farthings, while neighbour Hunks only goes quietly to bed, and dreams himself into thousands before morning. O that I could dream like him! with what pleasure would I dig round the pan; how slily would I carry it home; not even my wife should see me; and then, O the pleasure of thrusting one's hand into a heap of gold up to the elbow !"

Such reflections only served to make the miller unhappy : he discontinued his former assiduity; he was quite disgusted with small gains, and his customers began to forsake him. Every day he repeated the wish, and every night laid himself down in order to dream. Fortune, that was for a long time unkind, at last however seemed to smile upon his distresses, and indulged him with the wished-for vision. He dreamed, that under a certain part of the foundation of his mill there was concealed a monstrous pan of gold and diamonds, buried deep in the ground, and covered with a large flat stone. He rose up, thanked the stars, that were at last pleased to take pity on his sufferings, and concealed his good luck from every person, as is usual in money dreams, in order to have the vision repeated the two succeeding nights, by which he should be certain of its veracity. His wishes in this also were answered; he still dreamed of the of money, in the very same place.

same pan

Now, therefore, it was past a doubt; so getting up early the third morning, he repairs alone, with a mattock in his hand, to the mill, and began to undermine that part

of the wall to which the vision directed. The first omen of success that he met was a broken mug; digging still deeper, he turns up a house-tile, quite new and entire. At last, after much digging, he came to the broad flat stone, but then so large, that it was beyond one man's strength to remove it. "Here,” cried he in raptures to himself, "here it is! under this stone there is room for a very large pan of diamonds indeed. I must e'en go home to my wife, and tell her the whole affair, and get her to assist me in turning it up." Away therefore he goes, and acquaints his wife with every circumstance of their good fortune. Her raptures on this occasion easily may be imagined; she flew round his neck, and embraced him in an agony of joy; but those transports, however, did not delay their eagerness to know the exact sum: returning, therefore, speedily to the place where Whang had been digging, there they found-not indeed the expected treasure, but the mill, their only support, undermined and fallen. Adieu.

LETTER LXXI.

THE SHABBY BEAU, THE MAN IN BLACK, THE CHINESE PHILOSOPHER, &c., AT VAUXHALL. (1)

From Lien Chi Altangi to Fum Hoam.

The people of London are as fond of walking as our friends at Pekin of riding: one of the principal entertain

(1) [Vauxhall Gardens were at this time the property of Jonathan Tyers, Esq., father of "Tom Tyers," the intimate of Johnson and Goldsmith. Mr. Tyers died in 1767, and so great was the delight he took in this place, that, possessing his faculties to the last, he caused himself to be carried into the gardens a few hours before his death, to take a last look of them. The following anecdote is told of him by a contemporary." He was a worthy man, but indulged himself a little too much in a querulous strain when any

ments of the citizens here in summer is to repair about nightfall to a garden not far from town, where they walk about, shew their best clothes and best faces, and listen to a concert provided for the occasion.

I accepted an invitation a few evenings ago from my old friend, the man in black, to be one of a party that was to sup there; and at the appointed hour waited upon him at his lodgings. There I found the company assembled and expecting my arrival. Our party consisted of my friend in superlative finery, his stockings rolled, a black velvet waistcoat which was formerly new, and a grey wig combed down in imitation of hair. A pawnbroker's widow, of whom, by the bye, my friend was a professed admirer, dressed out in green damask, with three gold rings on every finger. Mr. Tibbs, the second-rate beau I have formerly described, together with his lady in flimsy silk, dirty gauze instead of linen, and a hat as big as an umbrella.

Our first difficulty was in settling how we should set out. Mrs. Tibbs had a natural aversion to the water, and the widow being a little in flesh, as warmly protested against walking; a coach was therefore agreed upon; which being too small to carry five, Mr. Tibbs consented to sit in his wife's lap.

In this manner, therefore, we set forward, being entertained by the way with the bodings of Mr. Tibbs, who assured us he did not expect to see a single creature for the evening

thing went amiss, insomuch that he said, if he had been brought up a hatter, be believed people would have been born without heads. A farmer once gave him a humorous reproof for this kind of reproach of heaven: he stepped up to him very respectfully, and asked him when he meant to open his gardens. Mr. Tyers replied, the next Monday fortnight.' The man thanked him repeatedly and was going away; but Mr. Tyers asked him in return, what made him so anxious to know: 'Why, Sir,' said the farmer, I think of sowing my turnips on that day, for you know we shall be sure to have rain."-See Brasbridge's Memoir, p. 134.]