hope to be kept." Then, when the two glasses of water were brought, smiling placidly to the young lady, he said, "Madam, let us reciprocate."-Boswell.

At the time that Miss Linley was in the highest esteem as a public singer, Dr. Johnson came in the evening to drink tea with Miss Reynolds; and when he entered the room she said to him, "See, Dr. Johnson, what a preference I give to your company; for I had an offer of a place in a box at the Oratorio to hear Miss Linley; but I would rather sit with you than hear Miss Linley sing." "And I, madam," replied Johnson, “would rather sit with you than sit upon a throne."-Northcote.

When I told him that a young and handsome countess had said to me, "I should think that to be praised by Dr. Johnson would make one a fool all one's life;" and that I answered, "Madam, I shall make him a fool to-day, by repeating this to him;" he said, "I am too old to be made. a fool; but if you say I am made a fool, I shall not deny it. I am much pleased with a compliment, especially from a pretty woman.”—Boswell.

The next morning we rose at four o'clock, and when we came down-stairs, to our great surprise, found Dr. Johnson waiting to receive and breakfast with us, though the night before he had taken leave of us. We therefore drank our coffee with him, and then he handed us both into the chaise. -Madame D'Arblay.

Dr. Johnson (looking earnestly at me): "Nay, it's very handsome!" "What, sir?" cried I, amazed. "Why, your cap. I have looked at it some time, and I like it much. It has not that vile bandeau across it which I have so often cursed." Mrs. Thrale: "Well, sir, that bandeau you quarrelled with was worn by every woman at court the last

birthday, and I observed that all the men found fault with it." Dr. Johnson: "The truth is, that women, take them in general, have no idea of grace. Fashion is all they think of. I don't mean Mrs. Thrale and Miss Burney when I talk of women! they are goddesses! and therefore I except them." Mrs. Thrale: "Lady Ladd never wore the bandeau, and said she never would, because it is unbecoming." Dr. Johnson (laughing): "Did she not? Then is Lady Ladd a charming woman, and I have yet hopes of entering into engagements with her!"-Madame D'Arblay.

When we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. Thrale made my father and me sit on each side of her. I said that I hoped I did not take Dr. Johnson's place-for he had not yet appeared. "No," answered Mrs. Thrale, "he will sit by you, which I am sure will give him great pleasure." Soon after we were seated, this great man entered. Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him, and he took his place. We had a noble dinner and a most elegant dessert. Dr. Johnson, in the middle of dinner, asked Mrs. Thrale what was in some little pies that were near him. "Mutton," answered she; so I don't ask you to eat any, because I know you despise it." "No, madam, no," cried he; "I despise nothing that is good of its sort; but I am too proud now to eat of it. Sitting by Miss Burney makes me very proud to-day." "Miss Burney," said Mrs. Thrale, laughing, “you must take great care of your heart if Dr. Johnson attacks it; for I assure you he is not often successless." "What's that you say, madam ?" cried he; "are you making mischief between the young lady and me already ?"—Madame D'Arblay.

Mr. Metcalf, with much satire, and much entertainment, kept chattering to me,* till Dr. Johnson found me out and brought a chair to me. "So," said he to Mr. Metcalf, "it is

*At an evening entertainment.

you, is it, that are engrossing her thus ?" "He's jealous!" said Mr. Metcalf, dryly. "How these people talk of Mrs. Siddons!" said the Doctor. "I came hither in full expectation of hearing no name but the name I love and pant to hear, when from one corner to another they are talking of that jade, Mrs. Siddons! till at last, wearied out, I went yonder into a corner, and repeated to myself, 'Burney! Burney! Burney! Burney!" "Ay, sir," said Mr. Metcalf," you should have carved it upon the trees." "Sir, had there been any trees, so I should; but being none, I was content to carve it upon my heart."-Madame D'Arblay.

EXTEMPORE VERSE-MAKING.

He observed that a gentleman of eminence in literature had got into a bad style of poetry of late. "He puts," said he, "a very common thing in a strange dress till he does not know it himself, and thinks other people do not know it." Boswell: "That is owing to his being so much versant in old English poetry." Johnson: "What is that to the purpose, sir? If I say a man is drunk, and you tell me it is owing to his taking much drink, the matter is not mended. No, sir, has taken to an odd mode. For ex

ample, he'd write thus:

'Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,

Wearing out life's evening gray.'

Gray evening is common enough; but evening gray he'd think fine. Stay; we'll make out the stanza:

'Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,

Wearing out life's evening gray;

Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell,

What is bliss, and which the way ?'"

Boswell: "But why smite his bosom, sir?" Johnson: "Why,

to show he was in earnest" (smiling). He at an after period added the following stanza:

"Thus I spoke; and speaking sighed,

Scarce repressed the starting tear;

When the smiling sage replied

Come, my lad, and drink some beer."

-Boswell.

I went into his room on the morning of my birthday, and said to him, "Nobody sends me any verses now, because I am five-and-thirty years old; and Stella was fed with them till forty-six, I remember." My being just recovered from illness and confinement will account for the manner in which he burst out suddenly, without the least previous hesitation, and without having entertained the smallest intention toward it half a minute before:

"Oft in danger, yet alive,

We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,

Time his hours should never drive

O'er the bounds of thirty-five.

High to soar, and deep to dive,

Nature gives at thirty-five.

Ladies, stock and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;

For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five;

He that ever hopes to thrive,

Must begin by thirty-five;

And all who wisely wish to wive

Must look on Thrale at thirty-five."

"And now," said he, as I was writing them down, "you may see what it is to come for poetry to a dictionary-maker; you may observe that the rhymes run in alphabetical order exactly."-Mrs. Piozzi.

When Dr. Percy first published his collection of ancient English ballads, perhaps he was too lavish in commendation of the beautiful simplicity and poetic merit he supposed himself to discover in them. This circumstance provoked Johnson to observe, one evening at Miss Reynolds's tea-table, that he could rhyme as well, and as elegantly, in common narrative and conversation. "For instance," says he:

"As with my hat upon my head,

I walked along the Strand,

I there did meet another man

With his hat in his hand."

Or, to render such poetry subservient to my own immediate

use:

"I therefore pray thee, Renny dear,

That thou wilt give to me,

With cream and sugar softened well,
Another dish of tea.

"Nor fear that I, my gentle maid,

Shall long detain the cup,
When once unto the bottom I
Have drunk the liquor up.

"Yet hear, alas! this mournful truth-
Nor hear it with a frown-

Thou canst not make the tea so fast
As I can gulp it down."

And thus he proceeded through several more stanzas till the reverend critic cried out for quarter.-George Steevens.

Some of the old legendary stories put in verse by modern writers provoked him to caricature them one day at Streatham; but they are already well known, I am sure:

"The tender infant, meek and mild,

Fell down upon the stone;

The nurse took up the squealing child,

But still the child squealed on."

I could give another comical instance of caricature imita

**