His son, to whom Mr. Johnson spoke, was a great boy of very singular aspect.  He had an intelligent face; but it was seamed and distorted by a scrofulous humor, which affected his eyes so badly, that sometimes he was almost blind.  Owing to the same cause, his head would often shake with a tremulous motion, as if he were afflicted with the palsy.  When Sam was an infant, the famous Queen Anne had tried to cure him of this disease, by laying her royal hands upon his head.  But though the touch of a king or Queen was supposed to be a certain remedy for scrofula, it produced no good effect upon Sam Johnson.

At the time which we speak of, the poor lad was not very well dressed, and wore shoes from which his toes peeped out; for his old father had barely the means of supporting his wife and children.  But, poor as the family were, young Sam Johnson had as much pride as any nobleman’s son in England.  The fact was, he felt conscious of uncommon sense and ability, which, in his own opinion, entitled him to great respect from the world.  Perhaps he would have been glad, if grown people had treated him as reverentially as his school-fellows did.  Three of them were accustomed to come for him, every morning; and while he sat upon the back of one, the two others supported him on each side, and thus he rode to school in triumph!

Being a personage of so much importance, Sam could not bear the idea of standing all day in Uttoxeter market, offering books to the rude and ignorant country-people.  Doubtless he felt the more reluctant on account of his shabby clothes, and the disorder of his eyes, and the tremulous motion of his head.

When Mr. Michael Johnson spoke, Sam pouted, and made an indistinct grumbling in his throat; then he looked his old father in the face, and answered him loudly and deliberately.

“Sir,” said he, “I will not go to Uttoxeter market!”

Mr. Johnson had seen a great deal of the lad’s obstinacy ever since his birth; and while Sam was younger, the old gentleman had probably used the rod, whenever occasion seemed to require.  But he was now too feeble, and too much out of spirits, to contend with this stubborn and violent-tempered boy.  He therefore gave up the point at once, and prepared to go to Uttoxeter himself.

“Well Sam,” said Mr. Johnson, as he took his hat and staff, “If, for the sake of your foolish pride, you can suffer your poor sick father to stand all day in the noise and confusion of the market, when he ought to be in his bed, I have no more to say.  But you will think of this, Sam, when I am dead and gone!”

So the poor old man (perhaps with a tear in his eye, but certainly with sorrow in his heart) set forth towards Uttoxeter.  The gray-haired, feeble, melancholy Michael Johnson!  How sad a thing it was, that he should be forced to go, in his sickness, and toil for the support of an ungrateful son, who was too proud to do any thing for his father, or his mother, or himself!  Sam looked after Mr. Johnson, with a sullen countenance, till he was out of sight.