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Show Hi 4 I CONDENSED f CLASSICS I THE VICAR OF I WAKEFIELD f i i By OLIVER GOL.DSMITH Jj. Condtnwlion bti Carolyn Wells k " si T Oliver Goldxmllh, Knltah poet, plnyvtrlpht, novelist novel-ist nod mmi of letters, wan hori In 172S. There hns been Rome question tin to the plnce of hi birth, but recent InveMti-c:ntors InveMti-c:ntors have elntmed thnt It was at Smtth-IIlll 11 o n a e, Klpliln, Roscommon, Ire-laud. Ire-laud. AMillo Oliver Oli-ver was still a child the fnuilly moved to the country of "Went Menth. He vvns sent to the vllliiKe I school when only seven, where the master, while teaching teach-ing rending, writing and nrlthmetlc. managed to also till the minds- of his pupils with stories of fairies, ghosts, banshees. Goldsmith left this school at the nge of nine, and went to several grammar schools, and acquired some knowledge of the ancient languages. He was not n brilliant scholar; in fact was considered con-sidered rather backward. He was small of stature, with features harsh to ugliness, ugli-ness, and was the bntt of the other boys and the masters. After many nnd vnrled attempts to fit himself for a profession, nnd repeated re-peated failures, he took to writing. As his name gradually became known his circle of acquaintances "widened. He was introduced to Johnson, then considered con-sidered the first of English writers; to Sir Joshnn Reynolds, the famous English Eng-lish painter, mid others. Before the "Vicar of Wakefield" appeared ap-peared in 1766. came the great crisis of Goldsmith's life. In Christmas week, 1764. he published a poem entitled the Traveller." It was the first work to which he had put his nime and It raised him at once to the rank ef a legitimate English classic. After the "Traveller" appeared 'The Vicar of Wakefield." and it rapidly obtained ob-tained a popularity whlca has lasted down to our own tlnws. VTThe earlier chapters show all the sweetn a of pastoral pas-toral poetry, together vdth all the vivacity of comedy." It is claimed that the latter part of the tale Is sot worthy of the beginning. The success which he won with this story encouraged Ooldsmith to try his hand m a dramatist, and he wrote the "Good NaturHl Man." The play, however, how-ever, is best known to later times as ' S h r Stoops to Conquer." It was brought o-ut at the Covent Garden Theater, and "pit, boxes and gallerlos were In m constant roar of laughter." Goldsmith died on April 4. 1774. In his 46th year. He was laid In the churchyard of the Temple, but the spot was not marked by any Inscription and is now forgotten. I CHOSE my trife for such qualities as -would wear well. She could read any English book without much spelling; but for pickling, preserving pre-serving and cookery, none could excel her. We were ever unstinting of our hospitality, and our gooseberry wine had great reputation, so that oar cousins, cou-sins, even to the fortieth remove, remembered re-membered their affinity without any help from the heralds' office, and came very frequently to see us. My children were well-formed and healthy. Two daughters, who, to conceal con-ceal nothing, were certainly very handsome hand-some : Olivia, of luxuriant beauty, and Sophia, soft, modest and alluring. My eldest son, George, was bred at Oxford, while Moses, my Second boy, received a sort of miscellaneous education at home. But, alas, by a sudden stroke of ill-luck, ill-luck, my entire fortune was swept away, and out of 14.000 I had but four hundred remaining. This caused ray neighbor, Mr. Wilmot. to break off the engagement existing between my son. George, and his daughter. Arabella. Arabel-la. Mr. Wilmot had one virtue in perfection, per-fection, which was prudence, too often the only one that is left us at seventy-two. We were now poor, and wisdom bade me conform to our humble situation. I gave George 5 and sent him to London Lon-don to do the best he might for himself him-self and for us. I found a small cure of 15 a year in a distant neighborhood, neighbor-hood, and thither we at once repaired. On our journey we fell in with one Mr. Burchell, a pleasing and instructive instruc-tive companion, who told me much of Squire Thornhill, our new landlord. who, It seemed, was the pleasure-loving nephew of the great and worthy Sir William Thornhill. Mr. Burchell had the great kindness to rescue my daughter, Sophia, who had the mischance mis-chance to fall Into a rapid stream, and, who, but for his timely assistance, must have been drowned. On this, my wife immediately built a future romance ro-mance for the two young people. I could not hut smile, to hear her, but I am never displeased with those harmless harm-less delusions that tend to make u more happy. Our landlord, Squire Thornhill. became be-came a frequent visitor at our little : habitation, lured, perhaps by my wife's , venison pasty or perhaps by the ' charms of my pretty daughters.' Mr. 1 Burchell, too, came often, so we were not at loss for merry company. My 1 wife, ambitious to hold our heads a lit- tie higher in the world, desired that I sell our colt at a neighboring fair, and buy, instead, a horse that would make better appearance at church or upon a visit. She sent Moses, who was a most discreet bargainer, and whom his sis-lers sis-lers fitted cut bravely for the fair. They trimmed his locks, brushed his buckles and cocked his hat with pins. He wore a thunder-and-llghtnlng coat and a gosling green waistcoat; but, j alas, at the fair he was Imposed upon I by a prowling sharper, who, after Moses had well bargained away the colt, managed to get the purchase . money from him in return for n pros1: of green spectacles in shagreen cases ! and so, as usual, unforeseen disaster frustrated our attempts to be fine. My daughters planned a pleasure ex pedition to town, and this Mr. Burchell so strongly disapproved of that a quarrel quar-rel ensued between him and my wife, and the gentleman left our house In a fit of anger, nor could Sophia's pleading plead-ing looks stay him. The town trip being still in prospect, pros-pect, my wife decreed that I go to the fair myself, and sell our one remaining remain-ing horse. But when one would-be purchaser pur-chaser examined the animal, and declared de-clared him blind of one eye. another observed he had a spavin, a third perceived per-ceived he had a windgall, a fourth said he had the botts, and so on. I began to have a most hearty contempt for the poor beast myself, for I rellected that the number of witnesses was a strong presumption they were right, nnd St. Gregory himself is of the same opinion. opin-ion. However, I at last sold my horse, but had the misfortune to receive in payment a forged and worthless draft, the same being, indeed, the wicked work of the very man who had sold Moses the spectacles. Mr. Burchell being absent from our fireside, only Sophia missed him, for the rest of us were greatly pleased by the visits of our landlord, who now came often. It must be owned that my wife laid a thousand schemes to entrap him as a husband for Olivia, and used every art to magnify the merits mer-its of her daughter. The results, however, how-ever, being small, my wife sought to rouse Mr. Thornhilfs jealousy by hinting hint-ing of Olivia's marriage with Farmer Williams, a most worthy, though hum-ble hum-ble neighbor. This falling to egg on the backward Thornhill, the wedding day was set for Olivia and Farmer Williams. But four days before the day I learned to my distraction that my Olivia had gone off secretly in a post-chaise with a gentleman who, as I was told by an onlooker, kissed her and said he would die for her. Well did I know the villain who had thus robbed me of my sweet innocent child ; it was none other than the wicked Thornhill. My wife fell to loud berating be-rating of him and Olivia as well, but 1 declared my house and heart should ever be open to the returning repentant repen-tant sinner. I set out to find her but my first efforts persuaded me that it was Mr. Burchell, and not Squire Thornhill, who had seduced my darling. dar-ling. This, though, was not the truth 'Twas but part of the villain's plan After long search I found my darlins girl, in a hiding place, whither she hac fled from the dreadful Thornhill who under pretense of marriage, had ruinec her. It seems they were married by e' black scoundrel, who had before married mar-ried the squire to six or eight othei wives ! I took my poor darling home, onlj to be met with the astounding news that my little home was utterly de stroyed by fire. With what cheerfulness cheerful-ness we might, we made shift to livt in one of our farm outbuildings, anc endeavored to enjoy our former serenity. se-renity. But this was not to be. The despicable despic-able Thornhill. about to marry MisF Wiltnot yes, the same to whom mj son, George, was once bethrothed made proposal that we marry mj Olivia to another, yet let her still be a friend of his own. My righteous denunciation de-nunciation of this resulted in the squire's threats of retribution, and thi-came. thi-came. in the form of a demand for my annual rent, the which I was all unable to pay. I was thereupon thrown intc a debtor's prison, but even here I endeavored en-deavored to preserve my calm, and after aft-er my usual meditations, and bavins praised my Heavenly Corrector. I slept with the utmost tranquility. Man frequently calls in the consolations consola-tions of philosophy, which. I have found, are amusing, but often fallacious. falla-cious. In the prison, though I attempted attempt-ed a much-needed reform movement, and though I lectured and advised with all my powers. I suffered .many and various sorrows and disappointments. I was informed of the death of my daughter, Olivia an untrue report, thank Heaven ! I was told of the forcible forci-ble abduction of Sophia, by desperate villains. From this danger, however, dear Sophia So-phia was rescued by Mr. Burchell; to whom I willingly gave my treasure for a wife. And, we then learned that our friend Mr. Burchell was In reality the great Sir William Thornhill, and my daughter would be a fine lady. And, another joy, I learned that my daughter, Olivia, was the lawful wife of Squire Thornhill. his previous marriages mar-riages all having been so performed by the wicked clergyman that they were not legal. Whereupon, my son, George, having reappeared. Miss Wilmot, his one-time love, accepted anew his offers, and those two were happy together. As a capsheaf to my harvest of good fortune, for-tune, the rascal who did me out of my fortune so long ago was arrested, and forced to give up his effects. My wrongs being set right, I, of course, was freed of the prison, and it now remained re-mained only that my gratitude in good fortune should exceed my former sub- ' mission in adversity. Copyright. IP',9, by the Post PubllshinssSo. 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