MISCELLANEOUS.

IN LONDON WHEN TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD.-He had a little money when he came to town, and he knew how he could live in the cheapest manner. His first lodgings were at the house of Mr. Norris, a stay-maker, in Exeter Street, adjoining Catharine Street, in the Strand. "I dined," said he, "very well for eightpence, with very good company, at the Pineapple, in New Street, just by. Several of them had travelled. They expected to meet every day; but did not know one another's names. It used to cost the rest a shilling, for they drank wine; but I had a cut of meat for sixpence, and bread for a penny, and gave the waiter a penny; so that I was quite well served, nay, better than the rest, for they gave the waiter nothing."Boswell.

INCOME IN YOUTH.-Painful as it is to relate, I have heard Dr. Johnson assert that he subsisted for a considerable space of time upon the scanty pittance of fourpence - halfpenny per day.-Richard Cumberland.

NIGHT WANDERINGS.-It is melancholy to reflect, that Johnson and Savage were sometimes in such extreme indigence that they could not pay for a lodging; so that they have wandered together whole nights in the streets. Yet in these almost incredible scenes of distress, we may suppose that Savage mentioned many of the anecdotes with which Johnson afterward enriched the life of his unhappy companion, and those of other poets. He told Sir Joshua Reynolds that one night in particular, when Savage and he walked round St. James's Square for want of a lodging, they were not at all depressed by their situation, but in high spirits, and brimful of patriotism, traversed the square for several hours, inveighed against the minister, and “ resolved they would stand by their country."-Boswell.

DINING BEHIND A SCREEN.-The following striking proof of Johnson's extreme indigence when he published the Life of Savage was communicated to Mr. Boswell by Mr. Richard Stowe, of Aspley, in Bedfordshire, from the information of Mr. Walter Harte, author of the Life of Gustavus Adolphus: "Soon after Savage's Life was published, Mr. Harte dined with Edward Cave, and occasionally praised it. Soon after, meeting him, Cave said, 'You made a man very happy t'other day.' 'How could that be?' says Harte; 'nobody was there but ourselves.' Cave answered by reminding him that a plate of victuals was sent behind a screen, which was to Johnson, dressed so shabbily that he did not choose to appear; but on hearing the conversation, he was highly delighted with the encomiums on his book."-Malone.

BOSWELL'S FIRST MEETING WITH JOHNSON.-Mr. Thomas Davies, the actor, who then kept a bookseller's shop in Russell Street, Covent Garden, told me that Johnson was very much his friend, and came frequently to his house, where he more than once invited me to meet him; but by some unlucky accident or other he was prevented from coming to us. Mr. Thomas Davies was a man of good understanding and talents, with the advantage of a liberal education. Though somewhat pompous, he was an entertaining companion; and his literary performances have no inconsiderable share of merit. He was a friendly and very hospitable man; both he and his wife (who has been celebrated for her beauty), though upon the stage for many years, maintained a uniform decency of character, and Johnson esteemed them, and lived in as easy an intimacy with them as with any family which he used to visit. Mr. Davies recollected several of Johnson's remarkable sayings, and was one of the best of the many imitators of his voice and manner while relating them. He increased my impatience more and more to see the extraordinary man whose works I highly valued, and whose conversation was reported to

be so peculiarly excellent. At last, on Monday, the 16th of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back-parlor, af ter having drunk tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly came into the shop; and Mr. Davies having perceived him through the glass-door in the room in which. we were sitting advancing toward us, he announced hist awful approach to me somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of Horatio when he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, "Look, my lord, it comes !" I found that I had a very perfect idea of Johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon after he had published his Dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy-chair in deep meditation; which was the first picture his friend did for him, which Sir Joshua very kindly presented to me. Mr. Davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies, "Don't tell where I come from." "From Scotland," cried Davies, roguishly. "Mr. Johnson," said I, "I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it." I am willing to flatter myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him, and not as an humiliating abasement at the expense of my country. But however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression, come from Scotland," which I used in the sense of being of that country; and, as if I had said that I had come away from it, or left it, retorted, "That, sir, I find is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help." This stroke stunned me a great deal; and when we had sat down, I felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next. He then addressed himself to Davies: "What do you think of Garrick? He has refused me an order for the play for Mrs. Williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would

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be worth three shillings." Eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, I ventured to say, "Oh, sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick would grudge such a trifle to you." "Sir," said he, with a stern look, "I have known David Garrick longer than you have done; and I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject." Perhaps I deserved this check; for it was rather presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the justice of his animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil. I now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that the hope which I had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. And, in truth, had not my ardor been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me forever from making any further attempts.-Boswell.

JOHNSON'S Knowledge OF BOSWELL'S INTENTIONS.-The Sunday evening that we sat by ourselves at Aberdeen I asked him several particulars of his life from his early years. I proceeded in my inquiries, also writing them in his presence. I have them on detached sheets. I shall collect authentic materials for "The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D.;" and if I survive him, I shall be one who will most faithfully do honor to his memory. I have now a vast treasure of his conversation at different times since the year 1762, when I first obtained his acquaintance, and by assiduous inquiry I can make up for not knowing him sooner. It is no small satisfaction to me to reflect that Dr. Johnson read this, and, after being apprised of my intention, communicated to me at subsequent periods many particulars of his life which probably could not otherwise have been preserved.-Boswell.

JOHNSON'S APPROVAL OF THE "JOURNAL."He read this day a good deal of my Journal, written in a small book with which he had supplied me, and was pleased, for he said, "I wish thy books were twice as big." He helped me to fill

up blanks which I had left in first writing it, when I was not quite sure of what he had said, and he corrected any mistakes that I had made.-Boswell.

REVELRY IN THE HEBRIDES.-Dr. Johnson went to bed soon. When one bowl of punch was finished, I rose, and was near the door, in my way up-stairs to bed; but Corrichatachin said it was the first time Col had been in his house, and he should have his bowl; and would not I join in drinking it? The heartiness of my honest landlord, and the desire of doing social honor to our very obliging conductor, induced me to sit down again. Col's bowl was finished, and by that time we were well warmed. A third bowl was soon made, and that too was finished. We were cordial and merry to a high degree; but of what passed I have no recollection, with any accuracy. I remember calling Corrichatachin by the familiar appellation of Corri, which his friends do. A fourth bowl was made, by which time Col and young Mackinnon, Corrichatachin's son, slipped away to bed. I continued a little with Corri and Knockow; but at last I left them. It was near five in the morning when I got to bed. I awaked at noon with a severe headache. I was much vexed that I should have been guilty of such a riot, and afraid of a reproof from Dr. Johnson. I thought it very inconsistent with that conduct which I ought to maintain while the companion of the "Rambler." About one he came into my room, and accosted me, "What! drunk yet?" His tone of voice was not that of severe upbraiding; so I was relieved a little. "Sir," said I, "they kept me up." He answered, “No, you kept them up, you drunken dog!" This he said with good-humored English pleasantry. Soon afterward Corrichatachin, Col, and other friends assembled round my bed. Corri had a brandy-bottle and glass with him, and insisted I should take a dram. "Ay," said Dr. Johnson, "fill him drunk again. Do it in the morning, that we may laugh at him all day. It is a poor thing for a fellow to get