“_Temple, Jan. 10, 1773._
“Dear Sir,
“To be thought of by you, obliges me; to be served by you,
still more. It makes me very happy to find that Dr. Burney
thinks my scheme of a Dictionary useful; still more that he
will be so kind as to adorn it with any thing of his own. I
beg you, also, will accept my gratitude for procuring me so
valuable an acquisition.
“I am,
“Dear Sir,
“Your most affectionate servant,
“OLIVER GOLDSMITH.”
The work, however, was never accomplished, and its project sunk away
to nothing; sincerely to the regret of those who knew what might be
expected from that highly qualified writer, on a plan that would
eminently have brought forth all his various talents; and which was
conceived upon so grand a scale, and was to be supported by such able
coadjutors. And deeply was public regret heightened that it was by
the hand of Death that this noble enterprise was cut short; Death,
which seemed to have awaited the moment of the reversal of poverty and
hardship into prosperity and fame, for striking that blow which, at an
earlier period, might frequently, for Dr. Goldsmith, have taken away a
burthen rather than a blessing. But such is the mysterious construction
of Life—that mere harbinger of Death!—always obedient to the fatal
knell he tolls, though always longing to implore that he would toll it
a little—little later!