"If put out of temper he was not very moderate in the terms in which he expressed his displeasure. I remember that, in the common room of University College, he was dilating upon some subject, and the then head of Lincoln College, Dr. Mortimer, was present. Whilst Johnson was stating what he proposed to communicate, the Doctor occasionally interrupted him, saying, I deny that.' This was often repeated, and observed upon by Johnson, as it was repeated, in terms expressive of increasing displeasure and anger. At length, upon the Doctor's repeating the words, 'I deny that,' 'Sir, Sir,' said Johnson, you must have forgot that an author has said, Plus negabit unus asinus in unâ horâ, quam centum philosophî probaverint in centum annis.'

EARTHQUAKE EXAGGERATION.

The tendency to exaggeration, which is the besetting practice of every-day life, leads to so many misstatements of what is taking place around us, that we must not be surprised. at History being branded as a liar. Dr. Johnson made some admirable remarks upon this popular tendency. In the parish register of Rushton, in Staffordshire, occurs this record:

"On Sunday, the 14th September, 1777, about 11 o'clock, whilst the minister was in the pulpit at Rushton, there was an earthquake, which threw the congregation into the greatest confusion. It was sensibly felt at Macclesfield, Manchester, &c."

Boswell, in his Life of Johnson, refers to this very shock as follows:-"On Sunday evening, September 14th, I arrived at Ashbourne, and drove directly up to Dr. Taylor's door. Dr. Johnson and he appeared before I had got out of the post-chaise, and welcomed me cordially. I told them I had travelled all the preceding night, and had gone to bed at Leek, in Staffordshire, and that when I rose to go to church in the afternoon I was informed there had been an earthquake, of which, it seems, the shock had been felt in some degree, at Ashbourne.

"Johnson. Sir, it will be much exaggerated in popular talk; for, in the first place, the common people do not accurately adapt their thoughts to the objects, nor, secondly,

do they accurately adapt their words to their thoughts. They do not mean to lie; but, taking no pains to be exact, they give you very false accounts. A great part of their language is proverbial. If any thing rocks at all, they say it rocks like a cradle; and in this way they go on."

PREVISION OF GAS-LIGHTING.

Dr. Johnson is thought to have had a prevision of this invention, when one evening, from the window of his house in Bolt-court, he observed the parish lamp-lighter ascend the ladder to light one of the glimmering oil-lamps. He had scarcely descended the ladder half-way when the flame expired; quickly returning, he lifted the cover partially, and thrusting the end of his torch beneath it, the flame was instantly communicated to the wick by the thick vapour which issued from it. "Ah," exclaimed the Doctor, 66 one of these days the streets of London will be lighted by smoke !” -See Notes and Queries, No. 127.

JOHNSON'S RAMBLE IN LONDON.

One night when Topham 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-humour 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 greengrocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their baskets just come from the country. They then repaired to one of the neighbouring taverns, and made a bowl of that liquor called Bishop, which Johnson had always liked. They did not stay long, but walked down to the Thames, took a boat, and rowed to Billingsgate. Johnson and Beauclerk were so well pleased with their amusement, that they re

solved 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 " oneidead girls." Garrick, being told of this ramble, said to him smartly, "I heard of your frolic t'other night. You'll be in the Chronicle." Upon which Johnson afterwards observed, "He durst not do such a thing. His wife would not let him."

DR. JOHNSON AT BRIGHTHELMSTONE.

In the autumn of 1857, the collection of curiosities made by Mrs. Mostyn, one of the three daughters of Mrs. Thrale, at Sillwood Lodge, Brighton, was disposed of by auction. The chief interest lay in the items relating to Johnson. Among the letters was an invitation from Thrale to the Doctor then in Derbyshire, inviting him to Brighton, October, 1777; the invitation was accepted, and at Brighthelmstone he saw Beauclerk, and stayed three days. Mr. Thrale then resided in West-street, Brighton, the house No. 78, at that time one of the most considerable houses in the town. Madame D'Arblay speaks of it as being at the Court end, exactly opposite the King's Head, where Charles II. lay hid previous to leaving the kingdom: "I fail not," she says, "to look at it with loyal satisfaction; and his black-wigged Majesty has from the time of the Restoration been its sign." Unfortunately, His Majesty has long since disappeared. Mrs. Mostyn, we may here mention, died a short time previous to the sale, soon after a railway journey to London.

From Boswell and Mrs. Piozzi, we get one or two characteristic peeps at the life of Johnson, while staying here. He took pleasure in the sea, but the country round did not please him. "He loved the sight of forest-trees, and detested Brighthelmstone Downs, because it was a country so truly desolate, he said, that if one had a mind to hang one's self for desperation at being obliged to live there, it would be difficult to find a tree on which to fasten the rope." From the Recollections of Brighton in the Olden Time, we learn that the Doctor enjoyed himself not a little upon those very Downs: "Thrale, who was the kindest creature upon earth to Johnson, wishing, perhaps, to fortify his health by the

pure air of the South Downs, or to present his friends with the view of an anomaly, viz. a poet on horseback, took him with him hare-hunting. The hounds threw off, up started a hare, and the sportsmen galloped, helter-skelter, ding-dong, after it. Johnson was not the last. Somebody rode up to Thrale, and said, 'I am astonished! Johnson rides like a young sportsman of twenty.' The philosopher told Thrale that he was better pleased with that compliment than any he had ever received." In December, 1781, Johnson came in a state of so much weakness, that he rested four times in walking between the inn and the lodging. The inn here spoken of is, probably, identical with the "Rooms" at Brighthelmstone, where, we are told, he turned his back on Lord Bolingbroke, and then made this excuse to Mr. Thrale, who stood fretting, "I am not obliged, Sir, to find reasons for respecting the rank of him who will not condescend to declare it by his dress or some other visible mark; what are stars and other signs of superiority made for ?"

One curious item in the sale catalogue was a copy of Saurin on the Bible, with this inscription on the fly-leaf: "An odd volume bought at a sale for 2s. 9d. by Dr. Johnson, for Streatham Park Library, 1796." This book, full of notes in the handwriting of Mrs. Thrale, brought 421.

HUMMUMS GHOST-STORY.

Of Parson Ford, who figures in Hogarth's "Midnight Conversation," there is a capital ghost-story thus told in Croker's edition of Boswell's Johnson :—

“Boswell.—Was there not a story of Parson Ford's ghost having appeared? Johnson.-Sir, it was believed. A waiter at the Hummums, in which house Ford died, had been absent for some time and returned, not knowing that Ford was dead. Going down to the cellar, according to the story, he met him ; going down again, he met him a second time. When he came up, he asked some people of the house what Ford could be doing there. They told him Ford was dead. The waiter took a fever, in which he lay for some time. When he recovered, he said he had a message to deliver to some woman from Ford; but he was not to tell them what or from whom. He walked out; he was followed; but somewhere about St.

Paul's* they lost him. He came back and said he had delivered it; the woman exclaimed, 'Then we are all undone !' Dr. Pellet, who was not a credulous man, inquired into the truth of this story, and he said the evidence was irresistible. My wife went to the Hummums (it is a place where people get themselves cupped). I believe she went with the intention to hear about this story of Ford. At first they were unwilling to tell her; but after they had talked to her, she came away satisfied that it was true. To be sure, the man had a fever ; and this vision may have been the beginning of it. But if the message to the woman, and their behaviour upon it, were true, as related, there was something supernatural. That rests upon his word, and there it remains."

ART OF TALKING.

A first-rate talker generally estimates the pleasantness of his circle by the share which his own conversation has had in contributing to its pleasantness. This is often evidently unconscious. Johnson, when he had talked for a whole evening, among other professed talkers, used to say, on taking leave, "Well, Sir, this has been a good evening; we have had good talk. The communication of mind is always of use. Thought flowed freely this evening."

DR. JOHNSON'S AUTHORSHIP.

When Dr. Johnson was at work on his Shakspeare, Sir John Hawkins said to him, "Well, Doctor, now you have finished your Dictionary, I suppose you will labour (?) your present work con amore for your reputation." "No, Sir," said Johnson; "nothing excites a man to write but necessity." This was but the text-now for the illustration. A clergyman told Sir John that, being with Johnson, he said to him, "Doctor, you have such command of your pen, you can do anything I wish you would write me a sermon. 'No, Sir," said Johnson; "I cannot write but for money; since I have dealt with the heathens (the booksellers), I have no other inspiration. I knew they could not do without me, and I made them pay me five guineas a sheet for my Rasselas; you must pay me, if I write for you." Another five guineas per sheet was, no doubt, the price.

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*St. Paul's, Covent Garden; the Hummums is on the side opposite.