on his outer garments was ever known to have been disturbed by the brush. That he was an habitual sloven, his best friends cannot deny. Johnson, as his acquaintance with persons of condition became more enlarged, corrected, to some degree, this failing, but could never be said to be neatly dressed, or indeed clean. He affected to wear clothes of the darkest and dirtiest colors, and, in all weathers, black stockings. His wig never sat even on his head, as may be observed in all the pictures of him, the reason whereof was that he had a twist in his shoulders, and that the motion of his head, as soon as he put it on, dragged it awry.—Sir John Hawkins (abridged).

He received me very courteously; but it must be confessed that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress were sufficiently uncouth. His brown suit of clothes looked very rusty; he had on a little old, shrivelled, unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way of slippers. But all these slovenly particularities were forgotten the moment that he began to talk.-Boswell.

On occasion of his play being brought upon the stage, Johnson had a fancy that, as a dramatic author, his dress should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore; he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a gold laced hat. He humorously observed to Mr. Langton, "that when in that dress he could not treat people with the same ease as when in his usual plain clothes."-Boswell.

His residence was in some old-fashioned rooms, called, I think, Inner Temple Lane, No. 1. At the top of a few steps the door opened into a dark and dingy-looking old wainscoted anteroom, through which was the study, and into

which, a little before noon, came rolling, as if just roused from his cabin, the truly uncouth figure of our literary colossus, in a strange black wig, too little for him by half, but which, before our next interview, was exchanged for that very respectable brown one in which his friend Sir Joshua so faithfully depicted him.-B. N. Turner.

Mr. Langton was exceedingly surprised when the sage first appeared. He had not received the smallest intimation of his figure, dress, or manner. From perusing his writings, he fancied he should see a decent, well-dressed, in short, a remarkably decorous philosopher. Instead of which, down from his bedchamber, about noon, came, as newly risen, a huge uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose about him.-Boswell.

CONDITION OF HIS WIGS.-In general his wigs were very shabby, and their fore parts were burned away by the near approach of the candle, which his short-sightedness rendered necessary in reading. At Streatham Mr. Thrale's butler had always a better wig ready; and as Johnson passed from the drawing-room when dinner was announced, the servant would remove the ordinary wig, and replace it with the newer one.-Croker.

PROVINCIAL ACCENT. Johnson never got entirely free of provincial accents. Garrick sometimes used to take him off, squeezing a lemon into a punch-bowl, with uncouth gesticulations, looking round the company, and calling out, "Who's for poonsh?"-Boswell.

2

PARTIALITIES.

CONVIVIALITY.-One night when Beauclerk and Langton had supped at a tavern in London, and sat till about three in the morning, it came into their heads to go and knock up Johnson, and see if they could prevail on him to join them in a ramble. They rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the Temple, till at last he appeared in his shirt, with his little black wig on the top of his head, instead of a nightcap, and a poker in his hand, imagining, probably, that some ruffians were coming to attack him. When he discovered who they were, and was told their errand, he smiled, and with great good-humor agreed to their proposal: "What, is it you, you dogs! I'll have a frisk with you." He was soon dressed, and they sallied forth together into Covent Garden, where the green-grocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their hampers, just come in from the country. Johnson made some attempts to help them; but the honest gardeners stared so at his figure and manner, and odd interference, that he soon saw his services were not relished. They then repaired to one of the neighboring taverns, and made a bowl of that liquor called bishop, which Johnson had always liked; while, in joyous contempt of sleep, from which he had been roused, he repeated the festive lines,

"Short, O short, then be thy reign,
And give us to the world again!"

They did not stay long, but walked down to the Thames, took a boat, and rowed to Billingsgate. Beauclerk and Johnson were so well pleased with their amusement that they resolved to persevere in dissipation for the rest of the day but Langton deserted them, being engaged to breakfast with some young ladies. Johnson scolded him for "leaving his social friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched un-idea'd girls." Garrick being told of this ram

ble, said to him, smartly, "I heard of your frolic t'other night. You'll be in the 'Chronicle."" Upon which Johnson afterward observed, "He durst not do such a thing. His wife would not let him!"-Boswell.

In the end of 1783 he was seized with a spasmodic asthma of such violence that he was confined to the house in great pain, being sometimes obliged to sit all night in his chair. He, however, had none of that unsocial shyness which we commonly see in people afflicted with sickness. He did not hide his head from the world in solitary abstraction; he did not deny himself to the visits of his friends and acquaintances; but at all times, when he was not overcome by sleep, was ready for conversation as in his best days.-Boswell.

Mrs. Lennox had written a novel, which in the spring of 1751 was ready for publication. One evening, at the Ivy Lane Club, Johnson proposed to us the celebrating of the birth of Mrs. Lennox's first literary child, as he called her book, by a whole night spent in festivity. The place appointed was the Devil Tavern, and there, about the hour of eight, Mrs. Lennox and her husband, as also the club, and friends to the number of near twenty, assembled. The supper was elegant, and Johnson had directed that a magnificent hot apple-pie should make a part of it, and this he would have stuck with bay-leaves, because, forsooth, Mrs. Lennox was an authoress, and had written verses; and further, he had prepared for her a crown of laurel, with which, but not till he had invoked the muses by some ceremonies of his own invention, he encircled her brows. The night passed in pleasant conversation and harmless mirth. About five, Johnson's face shone with meridian splendor, though his drink had been only lemonade.-Sir John Hawkins (abridged).

CLUBS.-A gentleman venturing to say to Johnson, “Sir,

I wonder sometimes that you condescend so far as to attend a city club," he answered, "Sir, the great chair of a full and pleasant club is, perhaps, the throne of human felicity."Cradock.

How much he delighted in convivial meetings, how he loved conversation, has already been mentioned. A tavern was the place for these enjoyments; and a weekly club was instituted for his gratification, and the mutual delight of its several members. The first movers in this association were Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds; the number of persons included in it was nine; the place of meeting was the Turk's Head, in Gerrard Street. The hours which Johnson spent in this society seemed to be the happiest of his life: he would often applaud his own sagacity in the selection of it, and was so constant at our meetings as never to absent himself. He came late; but, then, he stayed late, for he little regarded hours.-Sir John Hawkins (abridged).

Notwithstanding the complication of disorders under which Johnson now labored (in his seventy-fourth year), he did not resign himself to despondency and discontent, but with wisdom and spirit endeavored to console and amuse his mind with as many innocent enjoyments as he could procure. Sir John Hawkins has mentioned the cordiality with which he insisted that such of the members of the old club in Ivy Lane as survived should meet again and dine together, which they did, twice at a tavern, and once at his house; and in order to insure himself society, in the evening, for three days in the week, he instituted a club at the Essex Head, in Essex Street, then kept by Samuel Greaves, an old servant of Mr. Thrale's.-Boswell.

TAVERNS.-We dined at an excellent inn, at Chapelhouse, where he expatiated on the felicity of England in its taverns and inns, and triumphed over the French for not