1 aim than to clutch what Provender (of Enjoy- Symbol, it stood for ever present to his eyes: ment in any kind) he could get, always if pos- a Symbol, indeed, waxing old as doth a garsible keeping que clear of the Gallows and ment; yet which had guided forward, as their Pillory, (that is to say, minding heedfully both Banner and celestial Pillar of Fire, innumer"person" and " character,")-would have able saints and witnesses, the fathers of our mofloated hither and thither in it; and contrived to dern world; and for him also had still a sacred eat some three repasts daily, and wear some significance. It does not appear that, at any three suits yearly, and then to depart, and dis- time, Johnson was what we call irreligious: appear, having consumed his last ration: all but in his sorrows and isolation, when hope this might be worth knowing, but were in died away, and only a long vista of suffering itself a trivial knowledge. How a noble man, and toil lay before him to the end, then first resolute for the Truth, to whom Shams and did Religion shine forth in its meek, everlastLies were once for all an abomination,-was ing clearness; even as the stars do in black to act in it: here lay the mystery. By what night, which in the daytime and dusk were methods, by what gifts of eye and hand, does hidden by inferior lights. How a true man, a heroic Samuel Johnson, now when cast forth in the midst of errors and uncertainties, shall into that waste Chaos of Authorship, maddest work out for himself a sure Life-truth; and of things, a mingled Phlegethon and Fleet-adjusting the transient to the eternal, amid ditch, with its floating lumber, and sea-krakens, the fragments of ruined Temples build up, and mud-spectres,-shape himself a voyage; of their insient driftwood, and the enduring iron, built him a seaworthy Life-boat, and sail therein, undrowned, unpolluted, through the roaring "mother of dead dogs," onwards to an eternal Landmark, and City that hath foundations? This high question is even the one answered in Boswell's Book; which Book we, therefore not so falsely, have named a Heroic Poem: for in it there lies the whole argument of such. Glory to our brave Samuel! He accomplished this wonderful Problem; and now through long generations, we point to him, and say: Here also was a Man; let the world once more have assurance of a Man! Had there been in Johnson, now when afloat on that confusion worse confounded of grandeur and squalor, no light but an earthly outward one, he too must have made shipwreck. With his diseased body, and vehement voracious heart, how easy for him to become a carpe-diem Philosopher, like the rest, and live and die as miserably as any Boyce of that Brotherhood! But happily there was a higher light for him; shining as a lamp to his path; which, in all paths, would teach him to act and walk not as a fool, but as wise in those evil days also, "redeeming the time." Under dimmer or clearer manifestations, a Truth had been revealed to him: I also am a Man; even in this unutterable element of Authorship, I may live as beseems a Man! That Wrong is not only different from Right, but that it is in strict scientific terms, infinitely different; even as the gaining of the whole world set against the losing of one's own soul, or (as Johnson had it) a Heaven set against a Hell; that in all situations (out of the Pit of Tophet), wherein a living Man has stood or can stand, there is actually a Prize of quite infinite value placed within his reach, namely a Duty for him to do: this highest Gospel, which forms the basis and worth of all other Gospels whatsoever, had been revealed to Samuel Johnson; and the man had believed it, and laid it faithfully to heart. Such knowledge of the transcendental, immeasurable character of Duty, we call the basis of all Gospels, the essence of all Religion: he who with his whole soul knows not this, as yet knows nothing, as ret is properly nothing. This, happily for him, Johnson was one of those that knew: under a certain authentic with toil and pain, a little Altar for himself, and worship there; how Samuel Johnson, in the era of Voltaire, can purify and fortify his soul, and hold real communion with the Highest," in the Church of St. Clement Danes:" this too stands all unfolded in his Biography, and is among the most touching and memorable things there; a thing to be looked at with pity, admiration, awe. Johnson's Religion was as the light of life to him; without it, his heart was all sick, dark, and had no guidance left. He is now enlisted, or impressed, into that unspeakable shoe-black seraph Army of Authors; but can feel hereby that he fights under a celestial flag, and will quit him like a man. The first grand requisite, an assured heart, he therefore has: what his outward equipments and accoutrements are, is the next question; an important, though inferior one. His intellectual stock, intrinsically viewed, is perhaps inconsiderable: the furnishings of an English School and English University; good knowledge of the Latin tongue, a more uncertain one of Greek: this is a rather slender stock of Education wherewith to front the world. But then it is to be remembered that his world was England; that such was the culture England commonly supplied and expected. Besides, Johnson has been a voracious reader, though a desultory one, and oftenest in strange scholastic, too obsolete Libraries; he has also rubbed shoulders with the press of actual Life, for some thirty years now: views or hallucinations of innumerable things are weltering to and fro in him. Above all, be his weapons what they may, he has an arm that can wield them. Nature has given him her choicest gift: an open eye and heart. He will look on the world, wheresoever he can catch a glimpse of it, with eager curiosity: to the last, we find this a striking characieristic of him: for all human interests he has a sense; the meanest handicraftsman could interest him, even in extreme age, by speaking of his craft: the ways of men are all interesting to him; any human thing, that he did not know, he wished to know. Reflection, moreover, Meditation, was what he practised incessantly, with or without his will: for the mind of the man was earnest, deep as well as humane. Thus would the world, such fragments of it as he could survey, form itself, or continually tend to form itself, into a coherent Whole; on any and on all phases of which, his vote and voice must be well worth listening to. As a Speaker of the Word, he will speak real words; no idle jargon, no hollow triviality will issue from him. His aim too is clear, attainable, that of working for his wages; let him do this honestly, and all else will follow of its own accord. | Poverty, Distress, and as yet Obscurity, are his companions: so poor is he that his Wife must leave him, and seek shelter among other relations; Johnson's household has accommodation for one inmate only. To all his ever-varying, ever-recurring troubles, moreover, must be added this continual one of ill health, and its concomitant depressiveness a galling load, which would have crushed most common mortals into desperation, is his apWith such omens, into such a warfare, did pointed ballast and life-burden; he "could not Johnson go forth. A rugged, hungry Kerne, remember the day he had passed free from or Gallowglass, as we called him: yet indomi- pain." Nevertheless, Life, as we said before, table; in whom lay the true spirit of a Soldier. is always Life: a healthy soul, imprison it as With giant's force he toils, since such is his you will, in squalid garrets, shabby coat, appointment, were it but at hewing of wood bodily sickness, or whatever else, will assert and drawing of water for old sedentary, bushy- | its_heaven-granted indefeasible Freedom, its wigged Cave; distinguishes himself by mere right to conquer difficulties, to do work, even quantity, if there is to be no other distinction. to feel gladness. Johnson does not whine over He can write all things; frosty Latin verses, if these are the saleable commodity; Bookprefaces, Political Philippics, Review Articles, Parliamentary Debates: all things he does rapidly; still more surprising, all things he does thoroughly and well. How he sits there, in his rough-hewn, amorphous bulk, in that upper room at St. John's Gate, and trundles off sheet after sheet of those Senate-of-Lilliput Debates, to the clamorous Printer's Devils waiting for them, with insatiable throat, down stairs; himself perhaps impransus all the while! Admire also the greatness of Literature; how a grain of mustard-seed cast into its Nile-waters, shall settle in the teeming mould, and be found, one day, as a Tree, in whose branches all the fowls of heaven may lodge. Was it not so with these Lilliput Debates? In that small project and act, began the stupendous FOURTH ESTATE; whose wide world-embracing influences what eye can take in; in whose boughs are there not already fowls of strange feather lodged? Such things, and far stranger, were done in that wondrous old Portal, even in latter times. And then figure Samuel dining "behind the screen," from a trencher covertly handed in to him, at a preconcerted nod from the "great bushy wig;" Samuel, too ragged to show face, yet "made a happy man of" by hearing his praise spoken. If to Johnson himself, then much more to us, may that St. John's Gate be a place we can never pass without veneration."* his existence, but manfully makes the most have made drawings of all his residences: the blessing of Old Mortality be upon him! We ourselves, not without labour and risk, lately discovered GorGH *All Johnson's places of resort and abode are vene- SQUARE, between Fleet Street and Holborn (adjoining rable, and now indeed to the many as well as to the both to BOLT COURT and JOHNSON'S COURT:) and, few; for his name has become great; and, as we must on the second day of search, the very House there, often with a kind of sad admiration recognise, there is, wherein the English Dictionary was composed. It is even to the rudest man, no greatness so venerable as the first or corner house on the right hand, as you enter intellectual, as spiritual greatness; nay properly there through the arched way from the North-west. The acis no other venerable at all. For example, what soul-tual occupant, an elderly, well-washed, decent-looking subduing magic, for the very clown or craftsman of our man, invited us to enter; and courteously undertook to England, lies in the word "Scholar!" "He is a Scho-be cicerone; though in his memory lay nothing but the lar:" he is a man wiser than we; of a wisdom to us foolishest jumble and hallucination. It is a stout oldboundless, infinite: who shall speak his worth! Such fashioned, oak-balustraded house: "I have spent many things, we say, fill us with a certain pathetic admira- a pound and penny on it since then," said the worthy tion of defaced and obstructed yet glorious man; arch-Landlord: "here, you see, this Bedroom was the Docangel though in ruins,-or rather, though in rubbish, of tor's study; that was the garden" (a plot of delved encumbrances and mud-incrustations, which also are ground somewhat larger than a bed-quilt) "where he not to be perpetual. walked for exercise; these three garret Bedrooms" (where his three Copyists sat and wrote)" were the place he kept his-Pupils in!" Tempus edaz rerum! Yet feraz also: for our friend now added, with a wistful look, which strove to seem merely historical: "I let it all in Lodgings, to respectable gentlemen; by the quarter, or the month; it's all one to me "-"To me also." whispered the Ghost of Samuel, as we went pensively our ways. Nevertheless, in this mad-whirling all-forgetting London, the haunts of the mighty that were, can seldom without a strange difficulty be discovered. Will any man, for instance, tell us which bricks it was in Lincoln's Inn Buildings, that Ben Jonson's hand and trowel laid? No man, it is to be feared,-and also grumbled at. With Samuel Johnson may it prove otherwise! A Gentleman of the British Museum is said to member labour done!"-Neither, though John- few; at last disclosed, in his real proportions, son is obscure and poor, need the highest to the eye of the whole world, and encircled enjoyment of existence, that of heart freely with a "light-nimbus" of glory, so that whoso communing with heart, be denied him. Sa- is not blind must and shall behold him. By vage and he wander homeless through the slow degrees, we said; for this also is notable streets; without bed, yet not without friendly slow but sure: as his fame waxes not by exconverse; such another conversation not, it is aggerated clamour of what he seems to be, but like, producible in the proudest drawing-room by better and better insight of what he is, so it of London. Nor, under the void Night, upon will last and stand wearing, being genuine. the hard pavement, are their own woes the Thus indeed is it always, or nearly always, only topic nowise; they "will stand by their with true fame. The heavenly Luminary rises country," the two "Back-woods-men" of the amid vapours: star-gazers enough must scan Brick Desart! it, with critical telescopes; it makes no blazOf all outward evils Obscurity is perhaps in ing, the world can either look at it, or forbear itself the least. To Johnson, as to a healthy-looking at it; not till after a time and times, minded man, the fantastic article, sold or given does its celestial, eternal nature become indu under the title of Fame, had little or no value bitable. Pleasant, on the other hand, is the but its intrinsic one. He prized it as the blazing of a Tarbarrel; the crowd dance means of getting him employment and good merrily round it, with loud huzzaing, universal wages; scarcely as any thing more. His light three-times-three, and, like Homer's peasants, and guidance came from a loftier source; of "bless the useful light:" but unhappily it so which, in honest aversion to all hypocrisy or soon ends in darkness, foul choking smoke, pretentious talk, he spoke not to men; nay, and is kicked into the gutters, a nameless perhaps, being of a healthy mind, had never imbroglio of charred staves, pitch-cinders, and spoken to himself. We reckon it a striking vomissement du Diable! fact in Johnson's history, this carelessness of But indeed, from the old, Johnson has enjoyed his to Fame. Most authors speak of their all or nearly all that Fame can yield any man: "Fame" as if it were a quite priceless matter; the respect, the obedience of those that are the grand ultimatum, and heavenly Constan- about him and inferior to him; of those whose tine's-Banner they had to follow, and conquer opinion alone can have any forcible impresunder.-Thy "Fame!" Unhappy mortal, where sion on him. A little circle gathers round the will it and thou both be in some fifty years? Wise man; which gradually enlarges as the Shakspeare himself has lasted but two hun- report thereof spreads, and more can come to dred; Homer (partly by accident) three thou- see, and to believe; for Wisdom is precious, sand and does not already an ETERNITY and of irresistible attraction to all. "An inencircle every Me and every Thee? Cease, spired-idiot," Goldsmith, hangs strangely about then, to sit feverishly hatching on that "Fame" him; though, as Hawkins says, " he loved not of thine; and flapping, and shrieking with Johnson, but rather envied him for his parts; fierce hisses, like brood-goose on her last egg, and once entreated a friend to desist from if man shall or dare approach it! Quarrel praising him, 'for in doing so,' said he, 'you not with me, hate me not, my Brother: make harrow up my very soul!" Yet on the whole, what thou canst of thy egg, and welcome: God there is no evil in the "gooseberry-fool;" but knows, I will not steal it; I believe it to be rather much good; of a finer, if of a weaker, addle.-Johnson, for his part, was no man to sort than Johnson's; and all the more genuine be killed "by a review;" concerning which that he himself could never become conscious matter, it was said by a benevolent person: of it,-though unhappily never cease attempting "If any author can be reviewed to death, let it to become so: the Author of the genuine Ticar be, with all convenient despatch, done." John- of Wakefield, nill he, will he, must needs fly son thankfully receives any word spoken in towards such a mass of genuine Manhood; his favour; is nowise disobliged by a lampoon, and Dr. Minor keep gyrating round Dr. Major, but will look at it, if pointed out to him, and alternately attracted and repelled. Then there show how it might have been done better: the is the chivalrous Topham Beauclerk, with his lampoon itself is indeed nothing, a soap-bubble sharp wit, and gallant, courtly ways: there is that, next moment, will become a drop of sour Bennet Langton, an orthodox gentleman, and suds; but in the meanwhile, if it do any thing, worthy; though Johnson once laughed, louder it keeps him more in the world's eye, and the almost than mortal, at his last will and testanext bargain will be all the richer: "Sir, if ment; and "could not stop his merriment, but they should cease to talk of me, I must starve." continued it all the way till he got without the Sound heart and understanding head! these Temple-gate; then burst into such a fit of fail no man, not even a man of Letters. laughter that he appeared to be almost in a Obscurity, however, was, in Johnson's case, convulsion; and, in order to support himself, whether a light or heavy evil, likely to be no laid hold of one of the posts at the side of the lasting one. He is animated by the spirit of a foot-pavement, and sent forth peals so loud true workman, resolute to do his work well; that, in the silence of the night, his voice and he does his work well; all his work, that seemed to resound from Temple-bar to Fleetof writing, that of living. A man of this ditch!" Lastly comes his solid-thinking, solidstamp is unhappily not so common in the feeding Thrale, the well-beloved man; with literary or in any other department of the Thralia, a bright papilionaceous creature, world, that he can continue always unnoticed. whom the elephant loved to play with, and By slow degrees, Johnson emerges; looming, wave to and fro upon his trunk. Not to speak at first, huge and dim in the eye of an observant of a reverent Bozzy, for what need is there farther? Or of the spiritual Luminaries, with tongue or pen, who made that age remarkable; or of Highland Lairds drinking, in fierce usquebaugh, "Your health, Toctor Shonson!" -still less of many such as that poor "Mr. F. Lewis," older in date, of whose birth, death, and whole terrestrial res gestæ, this only, and strange enough this actually, survives: "Sir, ne lived in London, and hung loose upon society!" s'at PARVI nominis umbra.— In his fifty-third year, he is beneficed, by the royal bounty, with a Pension of three hundred pounds. Loud clamour is always more or less insane: but probably the insanest of all loud clamours in the eighteenth century, was this that was raised about Johnson's Pension. Men seem to be led by the noses; but in reality, it is by the ears,-as some ancient slaves were, who had their ears bored; or as some modern quadrupeds may be, whose ears are long. Very falsely was it said, "Names do not change Things;" Names do change Things; nay for most part they are the only substance, which mankind can discern in Things. The whole sum that Johnson, during the remaining twentytwo years of his life, drew from the public funds of England, would have supported some Supreme Priest for about half as many weeks; it amounts very nearly to the revenue of our poorest Church-Overseer for one twelvemonth. Of secular Administrators of Provinces, and Horse-subduers, and Game-destroyers, we shall not so much as speak: but who were the Primates of England, and the Primates of all England, during Johnson's days? No man has remembered. Again, is the Primate of all England something, or is he nothing? If something, then what but the man who, in the supreme degree, teaches and spiritually edifies, and leads towards Heaven by guiding wisely through the Earth, the living souls that inhabit England? We touch here upon deep matters; which but remotely concern us, and might lead us into still deeper: clear, in the meanwhile, it is that the true Spiritual Edifier and Soul's-Father of all England was, and till very lately continued to be, the man named Samuel Johnson,-whom this scot-and-lot-paying world cackled reproachfully to see remunerated like a Supervisor of Excise! If Destiny had beaten hard on poor Samuel, and did never cease to visit him too roughly, yet the last section of his Life might be pronounced victorious, and on the whole happy. He was not Idle; but now no longer goaded on by want; the light which had shone irradiating the dark haunts of Poverty, now illuminates the circles of Wealth, of a certain culture and elegant intelligence; he who had once been admitted to speak with Edmund Cave and Tobacco Browne, now admits a Reynolds and a Burke to speak with him. Loving friends are there; Listeners, even Answerers: the fruit of his long labours lies round him in fair legible Writings, of Philosophy, Eloquence, Morality, Philology; some excellent, all worthy and genuine Works; for which,, too, a deep, earnest murmur of thanks reaches him from all ends of his Fatherland. Nay, there are works of Goodness, of undying Mercy, which even he has possessed the power to do: "What I gave I have; what I spent I had !" Early friends had long sunk into the grave; yet in his soul they ever lived, fresh and clear, with soft pious breathings towards them, not without a still hope of one day meeting them again in purer union. Such was Johnson's Life: the victorious Battle of a free, true Man. Finally he died the death of the free and true: a dark cloud of Death, solemn, and not untinged with haloes of immortal Hope "took him away," and our eyes could no longer behold him; but can still behold the trace and impress of his courageous, honest spirit, deeplegible in the World's Business, wheresoever he walked and was. To estimate the quantity of Work that Johnson performed, how much poorer the World were had it wanted him, can, as in all such cases, never be accurately done; cannot, till after some longer space, be approximately done. All work is as seed sown; it grows and spreads, and sows itself anew, and so, in endless palingenesia. lives and works. To Johnson's Writings, good and solid. and still profitable as they are, we have already rated his Life and Conversation as superior. By the one and by the other, who shall compute what effects have been produced, and are still, and into deep Time, producing? So much, however, we can already see: It is now some three quarters of a century that Johnson has been the Prophet of the English; the man by whose light the English people, in public and in private, more than by any other man's, have guided their existence. Higher light than that immediately practical one; higher virtue than an honest PRUDENCE, he could not then communicate; nor perhaps could they have received: such light, such virtue, however, he did communicate. How to thread this labyrinthic Time, the fallen and falling Ruin of Times; to silence vain Scru ples, hold firm to the last the fragments of old Belief, and with earnest eye still discern some glimpses of a true path, and go forward there. on, "in a world where there is much to be done, and little to be known:" this is what Samuel Johnson, by act and word, taught his nation, what his nation received and learned of him, more than of any other. We can view him as the preserver and transmitter of whatsoever was genuine in the spirit of Teryism; which genuine spirit, it is now becoming manifest, must again imbody itself in all new forms of Society, be what they may, that are to exist, and have continuance-elsewhere thau on Paper. The last in many things, Johnson was the last genuine Tory; the last of Englishmen who, with strong voice, and wholly-believing heart, preached the Doctrine of Standing still; who, without selfishness or slavishness, reverenced the existing Powers, and could assert the privileges of rank, though himself poor, neg lected, and plebeian; who had heart-devoutness with heart-hatred of cant, was orthodoxreligious with his eyes open; and in all things and everywhere spoke out in plain English, from a soul wherein jesuitism could find no harbour, and with the front and tone not of a diplomatist but of a man. This last of the Tories was Johnson: not Burke, as is often said; Burke was essentially a Whig, and only, on reaching the verge of the chasm towards which Whiggism from the first was inevitably leading, recoiled; and, like a man vehement rather than earnest, a resplendent farsighted Rhetorician rather than a deep sure Thinker, recoiled with no measure, convulsively, and damaging what he drove back with him. In a world which exists by the balance of Antagonisms, the respective merit of the Conservator and the Innovator must ever remain debateable. Great, in the meanwhile, and undoubted, for both sides, is the merit of him who, in a day of Change, walks wisely, honestly. Johnson's aim was in itself an impossible one; this of stemming the eternal Flood of Time; of clutching all things, and anchoring them down, and saying, Move not!-how could it, or should it, ever have success? The strongest man can but retard the current partially and for a short hour. Yet even in such shortest retardation, may not an estimable value lie? If England has escaped the blood-bath of a French Revolution; and may yet, in virtue of this delay and of the experience it has given, work out her deliverance calmly into a new Era, let Samuel Johnson, beyond all contemporary or succeeding men, have the praise for it. We said above that he was appointed to be Ruler of the British nation for a season: whoso will look beyond the surface, into the heart of the world's movements, may find that all Pitt Administrations, and Continental Subsidies, and Waterloo victories, rested on the possibility of making England, yet a little while, Toryish, Loyal to the Old; and this again on the anterior reality, that the Wise had found such Loyalty still practicable, and recommendable. England had its Hume, as France had its Voltaires and Diderots; but the Johnson was peculiar to us. the streets of manufacturing towns, and collect ragged losels enough; every one of whom, if once dressed in red, and trained a little, will receive fire cheerfully for the small sum of one shilling per diem, and have the soul blown out of him at last, with perfect propriety. The Courage that dares only die, is on the whole no sublime affair; necessary indeed, yet universal; pitiful when it begins to parade itself. On this Globe of ours, there are some thirty-six persons that manifest it, seldom with the smallest failure, during every second of time. Nay look at Newgate: do not the offscourings of Creation, when condemned to the gallows, as if they were not men but vermin, walk thither with decency, and even to the scowls and hoot. ings of the whole Universe give their stern goodnight in silence? What is to be undergone only once, we may undergo; what must be, comes almost of its own accord. Considered as Duelist, what a poor figure does the fiercest Irish Whiskeraudo make, compared with any English Game-cock, such as you may buy for fifteen-pence! The Courage we desire and prize is not the Courage to die decently, but to live manfully. This, when by God's grace it has been given, lies deep in the soul; like genial heat, fosters all other virtues and gifts; without it they could not live. In spite of our innumerable Waterloos and Peterloos, and such campaigning as there has been, this Courage we allude to, and call the only true one, is perhaps rarer in these last ages, than it has been in any other since the Saxon Invasion under Hengist. Altogether extinct it can never be among men; otherwise the species Man were no longer for this world: here and there, in all times, under various guises, men are sent hither not only to demonstrate but exhibit it, and testify, as from heart to heart, that it is still possible, still practicable. Johnson, in the eighteenth century, and as Man of Letters, was one of such; and, in good truth, "the bravest of the brave." What mortal could have more to war with? Yet, as we saw, he yielded not, faltered not; he fought, and even, such was his blessedness, prevailed. Whoso will understand what it is to have a man's heart, may find that, since the time of John Milton, no braver heart had beat in any English bosom than Samuel Johnson now bore. Observe too that he never called himself brave, never felt himself to be so; the more completely was so. No Giant Despair, no Golgotha-Death-dance or Sorcerer's-Sabbath of “Literary Life in London," appals this pilgrim; he works resolutely for deliverance; in still defiance, steps stoutly along. The thing that is given him to do he can make himself do; what is to be endured he can endure in silence. If we ask now by what endowment it mainly was that Johnson realized such a Life for himself and others; what quality of character the main phenomena of his Life may be most naturally deduced from, and his other qualities most naturally subordinated to, in our conception of him, perhaps the answer were: The quality of Courage, of Valour; that Johnson was a Brave Man. The Courage that can go forth, once and away, to Chalk-Farm, and have itself shot, and snuffed out, with decency, is nowise wholly what we mean here. Such Courage we indeed esteem an exceeding small matter; capable of coexisting with a life full of falsehood, feebleness, poltroonery, and despicability. Nay oftener it is Cowardice rather that produces the result: for consider, Is the ChalkFarm Pistoleer inspired with any reasonable Belief and Determination; or is he hounded on How the great soul of old Samuel, consumby haggard, indefinable Fear,-how he will be ing daily his own bitter unalleviable allotment cut at public places, and spiuczeigsese of the of misery and toil, shows beside the poor flimsy neighbourhood" will wag their tongues at him little sou. of young Boswell; one day flaunting a plucked goose? If he go then, and be shot in the ring of vanity, tarrying by the wine-cup, without shrieking, or audible uproar, it is well and crying, Aha, the wine is red; the next for him: nevertheless there is nothing amazing day deploring his downpressed, night-shaded, in it. Courage to manage all this has not per- quite poor estate; and thinking it unkind haps been denied to any man, or to any woman. that the whole movement of the Universe Thus, do not recruiting sergeants drum through should go on, while his digestive-apparatus had |