On Saturday, May 2, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s, where there was a very large company, and a great deal of conversation; but owing to some circumstance which I cannot now recollect, I have no record of any part of it, except that there were several people there by no means of the Johnsonian school; so that less attention was paid to him than usual, which put him out of humour; and upon some imaginary offence from me, he attacked me with such rudeness, that I was vexed and angry, because it gave those persons an opportunity of enlarging upon his supposed ferocity, and ill treatment of his best friends.  I was so much hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that I kept away from him for a week; and, perhaps, might have kept away much longer, nay, gone to Scotland without seeing him again, had not we fortunately met and been reconciled.  To such unhappy chances are human friendships liable.

On Friday, May 8, I dined with him at Mr. Langton’s.  I was reserved and silent, which I suppose he perceived, and might recollect the cause.  After dinner when Mr. Langton was called out of the room, and we were by ourselves, he drew his chair near to mine, and said, in a tone of conciliating courtesy, ‘Well, how have you done?’ Boswell.  ’Sir, you have made me very uneasy by your behaviour to me when we were last at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s.  You know, my dear Sir, no man has a greater respect and affection for you, or would sooner go to the end of the world to serve you.  Now to treat me so—.’  He insisted that I had interrupted him, which I assured him was not the case; and proceeded—­’But why treat me so before people who neither love you nor me?’ Johnson.  ’Well, I am sorry for it.  I’ll make it up to you twenty different ways, as you please.’  Boswell.  ’I said to-day to Sir Joshua, when he observed that you tossed me sometimes—­I don’t care how often, or how high he tosses me, when only friends are present, for then I fall upon soft ground:  but I do not like falling on stones, which is the case when enemies are present.—­I think this a pretty good image, Sir.’  Johnson.  ‘Sir, it is one of the happiest I have ever heard.’

The truth is, there was no venom in the wounds which he inflicted at any time, unless they were irritated by some malignant infusion by other hands.  We were instantly as cordial again as ever, and joined in hearty laugh at some ludicrous but innocent peculiarities of one of our friends.  Boswell.  ’Do you think, Sir, it is always culpable to laugh at a man to his face?’ Johnson.  ’Why, Sir, that depends upon the man and the thing.  If it is a slight man, and a slight thing, you may; for you take nothing valuable from him.’

When Mr. Langton returned to us, the ‘flow of talk’ went on.  An eminent authour being mentioned;—­Johnson.  ’He is not a pleasant man.  His conversation is neither instructive nor brilliant.  He does not talk as if impelled by any fulness of knowledge or vivacity of imagination.  His conversation is like that of any other sensible man.  He talks with no wish either to inform or to hear, but only because he thinks it does not become ------ ------ to sit in a company and say nothing.’