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Garrick Count Neni, a Flemish nobleman of great rank and fortune, to whom Garrick talked of Abel Drugger as a small part, and related, with pleasant vanity, that a Frenchman who had seen him in one of his low characters exclaimed, "Comment! je ne le crois pas. Ce n'est pas Monsieur Garrick, ce grand homme!" Garrick added, with an appearance of grave recollection, “If I were to begin life again, I think I should not play these low characters." Upon which I observed, "Sir, you would be in the wrong; for your great excellence is your variety of playing, your representing so well characters so very different." Johnson: "Garrick, sir, was not in earnest in what he said; for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence is his variety; and, perhaps, there is not any one character which has not been as well acted by somebody else as he could do it." Boswell: "Why then, sir, did he talk so?" Johnson: "Why, sir, to make you anBoswell: "I don't know, sir; he seemed to dip deep into his mind for the reflection." Johnson: "He had not far to dip, sir; he had said the same thing, probably, twenty times before."--Boswell.

swer as you did."

Of Dr. Johnson, when my father and Hogarth were talking together about him one day, "That man," said the latter," is not contented with believing the Bible, but he fairly resolves, I think, to believe nothing but the Bible. Johnson," added he, "though so wise a fellow, is more like King David than King Solomon, for he says, in his haste, that all men are liars."-Mrs. Piozzi.

We were speaking of a gentleman who loved his friend: "Make him prime minister," says Johnson, "and see how long his friend will be remembered." But he had a rougher answer for me, when I commended a sermon preached by an intimate acquaintance of our own at the trading end of the town. "What was the subject, madam ?" says Dr. Johnson. Friendship, sir," replied I. "Why now, is it not strange

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that a wise man, like our dear little Evans, should take it in his head to preach on such a subject in a place where no one can be thinking of it ?" "Why, what are they thinking upon, sir?" said I. "Why, the men are thinking of their money, I suppose, and the women of their mops."— Mrs.

Piozzi.

It is certain he would scarcely allow any one to feel much for the distresses of others; or, whatever he thought they might feel, he was very apt to impute to causes that did no honor to human nature. Indeed, I thought him too fond of Rochefoucault's maxims.-Miss Reynolds.

SENTIMENT.

LADY MACLEOD and I got into a warm dispute. She wanted to build a house upon a farm which she has taken, about five miles from the castle, and to make gardens and other ornaments there; all of which I approved of, but insisted that the seat of the family should always be upon the rock of Dunvegan. Johnson: "Ay, in time we'll build all round this rock. You may make a very good house at the farm, but it must not be such as to tempt the Laird of Macleod to go thither to reside. Most of the great families of England have a secondary residence, which is called a jointure-house: let the new house be of that kind." The lady insisted that the rock was very inconvenient; that there was no place near it where a good garden could be made; that it must always be a rude place; that it was a Herculean labor to make a dinner here. I was vexed to find the alloy of modern refinement in a lady who had so much old family spirit. "Madam," said I, "if once you quit this rock, there is no knowing where you may settle. You move five miles at first; then to St. Andrews, as the late laird did; then to Edinburgh; and so on, till you end at Hampstead or in France.

No, no; keep to the rock: it is the very jewel of the estate. It looks as if it had been let down from heaven by the four corners, to be the residence of a chief. Have all the comforts and conveniences of life upon it, but never leave Rorie More's cascade." "But," said she, "is it not enough if we keep it? must we never have more convenience than Rorie More had? He had his beef brought to dinner in one basket, and his bread in another. Why not as well be Rorie More all over, as live upon his rock? And should not we tire in looking perpetually on this rock? It is very well for you, who have a fine place, and everything easy, to talk thus, and think of chaining honest folks to a rock. You would not live upon it yourself." "Yes, madam,” said I, "I would live upon it, were I Laird of Macleod, and should be unhappy if I were not upon it." Johnson, with a strong voice and most determined manner: "Madam, rather than quit the old rock, Boswell would live in the pit; he would make his bed in the dungeon." I felt a degree of elation at finding my resolute feudal enthusiasm thus confirmed by such a sanction. The lady was puzzled a little. She still returned to her pretty farm-rich ground—fine garden. Madam," said Dr. Johnson, "were they in Asia, I would not leave the rock."-Boswell.

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Amidst this cold obscurity, there was one brilliant circumstance to cheer him : he was well acquainted with Mr. Henry Hervey, one of the branches of the noble family of that name, who had been quartered at Lichfield as an officer of the army, and had at this time a house in London, where Johnson was frequently entertained, and had an opportunity of meeting genteel company. Not very long before his death, he mentioned this, among other particulars of his life, which he was kindly communicating to me; and he described this early friend, "Harry Hervey," thus: "He was a vicious man, but very kind to me. If you call a dog Hervey, I shall love him."-Boswell (1737).

I made a visit to poor Dr. Johnson, to inquire after his health. I found him better, but extremely far from well. One thing, however, gave me infinite satisfaction. He was so good as to ask me after Charles, and said, "I shall be glad to see him: pray tell him to call upon me." I thanked him very much, and said how proud he would be of such a permission. "I should be glad," said he, still more kindly, 'to see him, if he were not your brother; but were he a dog, a cat, a rat, a frog, and belonged to you, I must needs be glad to see him."-Madame D'Arblay.

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Sentiment and Dr. Johnson seem to be incongruous ideas, yet the rugged old man was at times very sentimental, occasionally in a rather comical way. His friend, Dr. Nugent, was very fond of omelet, and he and Johnson often feasted together upon that dish at the club. Mrs. Piozzi tells us that "Johnson felt very painful sensations at the sight of that dish, soon after Nugent's death, and cried, 'Ah, my poor, dear friend, I shall never eat omelet with thee again!' quite in an agony.

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Mrs. Thrale's marriage with Piozzi was the cause of sore displeasure and reproach; it raised a tumult against her which now seems irrational and impertinent. Johnson shared in the general feeling about the match, and in one of his letters to her, endeavoring to dissuade her from the step, he indulged himself in the following effusion: "When Queen Mary took the resolution of sheltering herself in England, the Archbishop of St. Andrews, attempting to dissuade her, attended her on her journey; and when they came to the irremeable stream that separated the two kingdoms, walked by her side into the water, in the middle of which he seized her bridle, and with earnestness proportioned to her danger and his own affection besought her to return. The Queen went forward- If the parallel reaches thus far, may it go no farther. The tears stand in my eyes."

On the occasion of his leaving Streatham, which had for many years been a pleasant refuge for him, he notes in his journal: "I was called early. I packed up my bundles, and used the foregoing prayer" (which, besides being irrelevant, is somewhat long for quotation), "with my morning devotions somewhat, I think, enlarged. Being earlier than the family, I read St. Paul's farewell in the Acts, and then read fortuitously in the Gospels, which was my parting use of the library." In one of his memorandum-books he made this note of his last Sunday at Streatham: "Went to church at Streatham. Templo valedixi cum osculo!" But our sympathy and pensive enjoyment are somewhat disturbed, when we find that, upon this same Sunday, he made yet another Latin entry in his memorandum-book, an entry which Mr. Hayward, the editor of Mrs. Thrale's autobiography, thus translates: "I dined at Streatham on boiled leg of lamb, with spinach, the stuffing of flour and raisins, round of beef, and turkey poult; and after the meat service, figs, grapes, not yet ripe in consequence of the bad season, with peaches, also hard. I took my place at the table in no joyful mood, and partook of the food moderately, lest I should finish by intemperance. If I rightly remember, the banquet at the funeral of Hadon came into my mind. When shall I revisit Streatham ?"-Editor.

ANTI-SENTIMENTALITY.

Johnson: "No, sir; violent pain of mind, like violent pain of body, must be severely felt." Boswell: "I own, sir, I have not so much feeling for the distress of others as some people have, or pretend to have; but I know this, that I would do all in my power to relieve them." Johnson: “Sir, it is affectation to pretend to feel the distress of others as much as they do themselves. It is equally so, as if one should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's leg is

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