On Saturday, July 30, Dr. Johnson and I took a sculler at the Temple-stairs, and set out for Greenwich.  I asked him if he really thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages an essential requisite to a good education.  Johnson.  ’Most certainly, Sir; for those who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not.  Nay, Sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much connected with it.’  ’And yet, (said I) people go through the world very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without learning.’  Johnson.  ’Why, Sir, that may be true in cases where learning cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well without learning, as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the Argonauts, who were the first sailors.’  He then called to the boy, ’What would you give, my lad, to know about the Argonauts?’ ’Sir, (said the boy,) I would give what I have.’  Johnson was much pleased with his answer, and we gave him a double fare.  Dr. Johnson then turning to me, ’Sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind; and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to give all that he has to get knowledge.’

We landed at the Old Swan, and walked to Billingsgate, where we took oars, and moved smoothly along the silver Thames.  It was a very fine day.  We were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships that were lying at anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side of the river.

I talked of preaching, and of the great success which those called Methodists have.  Johnson.  ’Sir, it is owing to their expressing themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which is the only way to do good to the common people, and which clergymen of genius and learning ought to do from a principle of duty, when it is suited to their congregations; a practice, for which they will be praised by men of sense.  To insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to the common people:  but to tell them that they may die in a fit of drunkenness, and shew them how dreadful that would be, cannot fail to make a deep impression.  Sir, when your Scotch clergy give up their homely manner, religion will soon decay in that country.’  Let this observation, as Johnson meant it, be ever remembered.

I was much pleased to find myself with Johnson at Greenwich, which he celebrates in his London as a favourite scene.  I had the poem in my pocket, and read the lines aloud with enthusiasm: 

     ’On Thames’s banks in silent thought we stood: 
     Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood: 
     Pleas’d with the seat which gave Eliza birth,
     We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth.’

Afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which was to give me his advice as to a course of study.