mortified by his son's extravagant hero-worship. "There's nae hope for Jamie, mon; Jamie is gone clean gyte. What do you think, mon? he's done with Paoli; he's off wi' the land-louping scoundrel of a Corsican; and who do you think he has pinned himself to now, mon? a dominie, mon; an auld dominie: he keeped a schule, and cau'd it an acaadamy."

Yet why should poor "Bozzy" be always ridiculed and abused? We are certainly greatly indebted to him, and should be grateful for the truthful portrait he has given of his "teacher, guide, and friend," in the very best biography ever written.

We will give a few extracts, to illustrate the singular habits, and rough, though brilliant style of conversation, belonging to the great Cham of Literature. Boswell says:

"While talking or even musing, as he sat in his chair, Johnson commonly held his head to one side, toward his right shoulder, and shook it in a tremulous manner, moving his body backward and forward, and rubbing his left knee in the same direction, with the palm of his hand. In the intervals of articulating, he made various sounds with his mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing the cud, sometimes giving a half whistle, sometimes making his tongue play backward from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking like a hen, and sometimes protruding it against his upper gums in front, as if pronouncing quickly under his breath 'too, too, too,' all this accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful look, but more frequently with a smile. Generally when he had concluded a period in the course of a dispute, by which time he was a good deal exhausted by violence and vociferation, he used to blow out his breath like a whale. This, I suppose, was a relief to his lungs, and seemed in him to be a contemptuous mode of expression, as if he had made the arguments of his opponent fly like chaff before the wind.

"One instance of his absence and particularity, as it is characteristic of the man, may be worth relating: When he and I took a journey together into the west, he visited the late Mr. Banks, of Dorsetshire; the conversation turning upon pictures, which Johnson could not well see, he retired to a corner of the room, stretching out his right leg as far as he could reach before him, then bringing up his left leg and stretching the right still farther on. The old gentleman, observing him, went up to him, and in a very courteous manner assured him that, though it was not a new house, the flooring was perfectly safe. The doctor started from his reverie, like a person waked out of sleep, but spoke not a word.

"When he walked the streets, what with the constant roll of his head and the concomitant motion of his body, he appeared to make his way by that motion, independent of his feet. That he was often much stared at while he advanced in this manner may easily be believed; but it was not safe to make sport of any one so robust as he was. Mr. Langton saw him once in a fit of absence, by a sudden start, drive the load off a porter's back, and walk forward briskly without being conscious of what he had done. The porter was very angry, but stood still and eyed the huge figure with much earnestness, till he was satisfied that his wisest course was to be quiet and take up his burden again.”

We know from this faithful record how he sometimes gorged himself at table, till the veins swelled into knots. on his forehead, and the perspiration streamed from his face; how he often swallowed nineteen cups of tea, and if in the right mood would gulp down twenty-five; how he laughed like a rhinoceros, and went scuffling and rolling about with dirty linen and unbuckled shoes, biting his nails to the quick, and hoarding every scrap of orangepeel he could find; a tremendous companion in social life; never enduring contradiction, and denouncing all who

failed to agree with him as dunces and fools. But we are also told of his generous nature, his warm heart, his giant mind. He was ever ready to defend the unfortunate and protect the friendless; and, however severe in his own judgment, he would never allow any one to speak ill of his friends in his presence.

We have many pleasant pictures of him helping "poor Goldy" out of his perplexities, with the tenderness of a father; weeping at Garrick's new-made grave; carrying home on his broad shoulders a poor woman who had fainted and fallen in the streets; writing loving letters to his little godchild when sick and suffering; petting his homely old cat Hodge, for whom he used to go out and buy oysters. All this proves that "there was nothing of the bear but the skin."

He said to Boswell, "Sir, I consider myself a very polite man." In one sense this was thoroughly ludicrous; in another, thoroughly true.

In conversation he was very variable, sometimes saying nothing when all were longing for his opinion, again monopolizing the conversation, especially if there were other good talkers present. He would never allow Burke to outdo him, grunting and snorting savagely when he thought it time for him to stop. He acknowledges that he found Burke a powerful rival, and said once, when sick, "Don't let Burke in; he would kill me now!"

I will now give you a few sentences, that you may judge of his conversation and style:

On the speculations of some one as to our condition before this life, possibly in a lower order of being, he said: "Sir, it is all conjecture about a thing useless, even were it known to be true; knowledge of all kinds is good, but conjecture as to what it would be useless to know, such as whether men went upon all-fours, is idle."

A lady-friend complained that men had much more

liberty than women.

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"Why, madam," said Johnson, women have all the liberty they should wish to have. We have all the labor and the danger, and women all the advantage. We go to sea, we build houses, we do every thing, in short, to pay our court to the women." But she persisted that a superiority was allowed to men to which they were not entitled. "It is plain, madam, one or other must have the superiority. As Shakespeare says, "If two men ride on a horse, one must ride behind.' Then, madam," said Johnson, "the horse would throw them both."

He was fond of fast driving, and admired pretty women, however poor a judge he proved himself of female charms, and said one day: "If I had no duties, and no reference to futurity, I would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman; but she should be one who would understand me, and would add something to the conversation."

Hannah More was a special favorite, and could always put him in good-humor with her bright sallies and quick retorts. He honored her with several pet names, such as "child," "dearest," and-"little fool," the latter phrase having more real tenderness in it than all the others. She used to be placed next him at dinners, where he was expected to talk. It was quite important that some one should be able to flatter or draw him into a loquacious mood on these occasions, otherwise he might not "begin" at all, but sit as silent and abstracted as one dumb. Once when invited to a large dinner-party, where every one was waiting for an eloquent discussion, or, still better, one of his characteristic monologues, when ears, and memory, and note-books, were all ready, his only remark was "Pretty baby!" to a little child playing on the floor. But when with Hannah More his great mind was never sluggish. Her sister Sally has given a pleasant, sprightly account of their first visit to his house:

"LONDON, 1774. "We have paid another visit to Miss Reynolds. She had sent to engage Dr. Percy (Percy's collection-now you know him), quite a sprightly modern, instead of a rusty antique, as I expected. He was no sooner gone than the most amiable and obliging of women (Miss Reynolds) ordered the coach, to take us to Dr. Johnson's very own house; yes, Abyssinia's Johnson! Dictionary Johnson! Rambler's, Idler's, and Irene's Johnson! Can you picture to yourselves the 'palpitation of our hearts as we approached his mansion? The conversation turned upon a new work of his, just going to press (The Tour to the Hebrides'), and his old friend Richardson. Mrs. Williams, the blind poetess, who lives with him, was introduced to us. She is engaging in her manners, her conversation lively and entertaining. Miss Reynolds told the doctor of all our rapturous exclamations on the road. He shook his scientific head at Hannah, and said 'she was a silly thing. When our visit was ended, he called for his hat (as it rained) to attend us down a very long entry to our coach, and not Rasselas could have acquitted himself more en cavalier. We are engaged with him at Sir Joshua's, Wednesday evening. What do you think of us? I forgot to mention that, not finding Johnson in his little parlor when we came in, Hannah seated herself in his great chair, hoping to catch a little ray of his genius; when he heard it he laughed heartily, and told her it was a chair on which he never sat. He said it reminded him of Boswell and himself when they stopped a night at the spot (as they imagined) where the weird sisters appeared to Macbeth; the idea so worked upon their enthusiasm that it quite deprived them of rest. However, they learned the next morning, to their mortification, that they had been deceived, and were quite in another part of the country."

He knew how to compliment a lady with great grace and