proved, though he could not comprehend why it was so.  Being thus disposed, he was willing to inquire into the truth of any relation of supernatural agency, a general belief of which has prevailed in all nations and ages.  But so far was he from being the dupe of implicit faith, that he examined the matter with a jealous attention, and no man was more ready to refute its falsehood when he had discovered it.  Churchill, in his poem entitled The Ghost, availed himself of the absurd credulity imputed to Johnson, and drew a caricature of him under the name of ‘Pomposo,’ representing him as one of the believers of the story of a Ghost in Cock-lane, which, in the year 1762, had gained very general credit in London.  Many of my readers, I am convinced, are to this hour under an impression that Johnson was thus foolishly deceived.  It will therefore surprize them a good deal when they are informed upon undoubted authority, that Johnson was one of those by whom the imposture was detected.  The story had become so popular, that he thought it should be investigated; and in this research he was assisted by the Reverend Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, the great detector of impostures; who informs me, that after the gentlemen who went and examined into the evidence were satisfied of its falsity, Johnson wrote in their presence an account of it, which was published in the newspapers and Gentleman’s Magazine, and undeceived the world.

Our conversation proceeded.  ’Sir, (said he) I am a friend to subordination, as most conducive to the happiness of society.  There is a reciprocal pleasure in governing and being governed.’

’Dr. Goldsmith is one of the first men we now have as an authour, and he is a very worthy man too.  He has been loose in his principles, but he is coming right.’

I complained to him that I had not yet acquired much knowledge, and asked his advice as to my studies.  He said, ’Don’t talk of study now.  I will give you a plan; but it will require some time to consider of it.’  ’It is very good in you (I replied,) to allow me to be with you thus.  Had it been foretold to me some years ago that I should pass an evening with the authour of The Rambler, how should I have exulted!’ What I then expressed, was sincerely from the heart.  He was satisfied that it was, and cordially answered, ’Sir, I am glad we have met.  I hope we shall pass many evenings and mornings too, together.’  We finished a couple of bottles of port, and sat till between one and two in the morning.

As Dr. Oliver Goldsmith will frequently appear in this narrative, I shall endeavour to make my readers in some degree acquainted with his singular character.  He was a native of Ireland, and a contemporary with Mr. Burke at Trinity College, Dublin, but did not then give much promise of future celebrity.  He, however, observed to Mr. Malone, that ’though he made no great figure in mathematicks, which was a study in much repute there, he could turn an Ode of Horace