e they lived in much
comfort. Here Oliver passed his childhood and youth, and it is
doubtless to Lissoy that his thoughts returned when he wrote of "Sweet
Auburn, loveliest village of the plain." As a boy he had his share of
troubles. In school he was pronounced "a stupid, heavy blockhead," and
he was often made sport of by his companions on account of his awkward
figure and his homely face, pitted with the smallpox. In his
eighteenth year he entered Trinity College, Dublin, as a sizar, that
is, a poor student who pays in part for his tuition by doing certain
kinds of work. After four years devoted to study--spiced with a good
deal of fun--he graduated at the foot of his class.

At twenty-one he showed no special bent. For a while he lived with his
mother, now a widow, and idled his time away with gay companions.
After being refused a position in the church, he resolved to try
teaching; but this occupation proved so little to his taste that he
decided to give it up and study medicine. With the help of a generous
uncle he entered the medical school at Edinburgh, leaving Ireland never
to return. At the end of a year and a half he concluded that foreign
travel would do more for him than a longer stay in Scotland. His uncle
sent him twenty pounds, and with this he reached Leyden, where, if he
possibly attended a few lectures, he certainly associated with wild
companions who helped him to get rid of his money. Having succeeded in
borrowing a small sum, he was about to leave Leyden, when in a
florist's garden he saw a rare, high-priced flower which he felt sure
would delight his kind uncle, who was an enthusiast in flower culture.
Without a thought of his own needs he ran in, bought a parcel of the
roots, and sent them off to Ireland; then, with a guinea in his pocket,
he started on his travels. Although his uncle may have sent him small
sums occasionally, it is not easy to see how he managed to wander as he
did from country to country. It is said that he paid his way among the
peasants by flute playing, and that he returned the hospitality of
convents by disputing on learned subjects; but these stories are
doubtless fictitious. One thing is certain, he arrived in London in
February, 1756, having reached the age of twenty-eight, with a medical
degree, but with no money in his pocket.

For two years he lived in the great city poor and unknown. He was in
turn apothecary's assistant, poor physician, proof-reader,