against the universal infallibility of the Pope.  It took, however; for my opponent mused a while, and then said, “Too far off!  Why, Sicily is as far off as England.  Yet in Sicily they believe in the Pope.”—­“Oh,” said I, “we are ten times further off than Sicily.”—­“Aha!” said he; and seemed quite satisfied.  In this manner I got off very well.  I question much whether any of the learned reasonings of our Protestant divines would have had so good an effect.

THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON

It seems to me in my moments of self-complacency that this extensive biographical Work, however inferior in its nature, may in one respect be assimilated to the ‘Odyssey.’  Amidst a thousand entertaining and instructive episodes the Hero is never long out of sight; for they are all in some degree connected with him; and He, in the whole course of the History, is exhibited by the author for the best advantage of his readers:—­

     “Quid Virtus et quid sapientia possit,
     Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulyssen.”

(What may by virtue be done, and what by wisdom accomplished, Homer affords in Ulysses for us a helpful example.)

Should there be any cold-blooded and morose mortals who really dislike this book, I will give them a story to apply.  When the great Duke of Marlborough, accompanied by Lord Cadogan, was one day reconnoitring the army in Flanders, a heavy rain came on, and they both called for their cloaks.  Lord Cadogan’s servant, a good-humored, alert lad, brought his Lordship’s in a minute.  The Duke’s servant, a lazy, sulky dog, was so sluggish that his Grace, being wet to the skin, reproved him, and had for answer with a grunt, “I came as fast as I could;” upon which the Duke calmly said, “Cadogan, I would not for a thousand pounds have that fellow’s temper.”

Mr. Thomas Davies the actor, who then kept a bookseller’s shop in Russel-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.