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smith, who knew him well:- Johnson, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner; but no man alive has a more tender heart. He has nothing of the bear but his skin."-Boswell.

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THE FIRST HUG of the Bear.-On Monday, the 16th of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back parlour, after having drank tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly came into the shop; and Mr. Davies having perceived him, through the glass-door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us; he announced his awful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of Horatio, when he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, Look, my Lord, it comes." I found that I had a very perfect idea of Johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon after he had published his dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep meditation; which was the first picture his friend did for him, which Sir Joshua very kindly presented to me, and from which an engraving has been made for this work. Mr. Davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies, "Don't tell where I come from." "From Scotland," cried Davies, roguishly. "Mr. Johnson," said I, "I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it." I am willing to flatter myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him, and not as a humiliating abasement at the expense of my country. But however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression came from Scotland," which I used in the sense of being of that country: and, as if I had said that I had come away from it, or left it; retorted, That, Sir, I find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help." This stroke stunned me a good deal; and when we had sat down, I felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next. He then addressed himself to Davies: What do you think of Garrick? He has refused me an order for the play for Miss Williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings." Eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, I ventured to say, O, Sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick would grudge such a trifle to you."

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Sir," said he, with

a stern look, "I have known David Garrick longer than you have done, and I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject.—BosWELL.

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A DISTINCTION.-A person tried for high treason, as the jury were about to leave the bar, requested them to consider a statute which he thought made very much for him. Sirrah," cried out one of the judges, "I know that statute better than you do." The prisoner coolly replied, "I make no doubt, Sir, but that you do know it better than I do; I am only anxious that the jury should know it as well."-SEWARD. WICKED WIT.-One asked Sir John Millesent how he did so conform himself to the grave justices, his brothers, when they met. Why, in faith," says he, "I have no way but to drink myself down to the capacity of the Bench."-L'ESTRANGE.

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KING JAMES.—He was complaining one time of the leanness of his hunting horse, and swore by his soul he could see no reason but his should be as fat as any of his subjects; for he bestowed upon him as good feeding, keeping, and as easy riding as any one did, and yet the jade was lean. Archee, his fool, standing by, told him," If that be all, take no care: I'll teach your Majesty a way to raise his flesh presently; and if he be not as fat as ever he can wallow, you shall ride me.” “I pr'ythee, fool, how?" said the King. Why, do but make him a Bishop, and I'll warrant you," says Archee.-L'ESTRANGE.

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SIR MILES FLEETWOOD, RECORDER OF LONDON. -He was of the Middle Temple, was Recorder of London, when King James came into England. Made his harangue to the city of London.- "When I consider your wealth I do admire your wisdom, and when I consider your wisdom I do admire your wealth." It was a two-handed rhetorication, but the citizens took it in the best sense. He was a very severe hanger of highwaymen, so that the fraternity were resolved to make an example of his worship, which they executed in this manner:-They lay in wait for him not far from Tyburn, as he was to come from his house at

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Bucks; had a halter in readiness; brought him under the gallows, fastened the rope about his neck, his hands tied behind him, (and servants bound,) and then left him to the mercy of his horse, which he called Ball. So he cried, Ho, Ball! Ho, Ball!" and it pleased God that his horse stood still, till somebody came along, which was half a quarter of an hour or more. He ordered that his horse should be kept as long as he would live, which was so; he lived till 1646.—AUBREY.

CHARACTER OF LORD BACON.-One, though he be excellent, and the chief, is not to be imitated alone; for no imitator ever grew up to his author; likeness is always on this side truth. Yet there happened in my time one noble speaker, who was full of gravity in his speaking. His language (where he could spare or pass by a jest) was nobly censorious. No man ever spake more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness, in what he uttered. No member of his speech, but consisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough, or look aside from him, without loss. He commanded where he spoke; and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion. No man had their affections more in his power. The fear of every man that heard him was, lest he should make an end.

My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place, or honours, but I have and do reverence him, for the greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want. Neither could I condole in a word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm to virtue, but rather help to make it manifest.—BEN JONSON.

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IDLE FEARS.-One was saying that his great grandfather, and grandfather and father, died at sea; said another that heard him, "An I were as you, I would never come at sea." Why," saith he, "where did your great grandfather, and grandfather and father die?" He answered, Where but in their beds?" Saith the other, An

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I were as you, I would never come to bed."-BACON.

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AUGUSTUS CESAR would say, "That he wondered that Alexander feared he should want work, having no more to conquer; as if it were not as hard a matter to keep as to conquer."—Bacon.

SCHOOL DISCIPLINE.-The discipline at Christ's Hospital in my time was ultra Spartan; all domestic ties were to be put aside. “Boy!" I remember Bowyer saying to me once when I was crying the first day of return after the holidays, my Boy! the school is your father! Boy! the school is your mother! Boy! the school is your brother! the school is your sister! the school is your first cousin, and your second cousin, and all the rest of your relations! Let's have no more crying!"

No tongue can express good Mrs. Bowyer. Val Le Grice and I were once going to be flogged for some domestic misdeed, and Bowyer was thundering away at us by way of prologue, when Mrs. B. looked in, and said, "Flog them soundly, Sir, I beg!" This saved us. Bowyer was so nettled at the interruption that he growled out, "Away, woman! away!" and we were let off.

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I had one just flogging. When I was about thirteen, I went to a shoemaker, and begged him to take me as his apprentice. He being an honest man, immediately took me to Bowyer, (the Master of Christ's Hospital,) who got into a great rage, knocked me down, and even rudely pushed Crispin out of the room. Bowyer asked me "Why I had made myself such a fool?" to which I answered, That I had a great desire to be a shoemaker, and that I hated the thought of being a clergyman. Why so?" said he, Because, to tell you the truth, Sir," said I, "I am an infidel!" For this, without more ado, Bowyer flogged me, wisely, as I think,-soundly as I know. Any whining or sermonizing would have gratified my vanity, and confirmed me in my absurdity; as it was, I was laughed at, and got heartily ashamed of my folly.COLERIDGE.

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70.-CHARACTERS.

[THE following acute and discriminating character of Washington is from the pen of his fellow-labourer in the cause of American independence Thomas Jefferson. As a contrast to the character of Washington, we subjoin a sketch of Napoleon Bonaparte, by an anonymous writer, published in 1821.]

WASHINGTON.

JEFFERSON.

His mind was great and powerful, without being of the very first order; his penetration strong, though not so acute as that of a Newton, Bacon, or Locke; and as far as he saw, no judgment was ever sounder. It was slow in operation, being little aided by invention or imagination, but sure in conclusion. Hence the common remark of his officers, of the advantage he derived from councils of war, where, hearing all suggestions, he selected whatever was best; and certainly no general ever planned his battles more judiciously. But if deranged during the course of the action, if any member of his plan was dislo

cated by sudden circumstances, he was slow in a re-adjustment. The consequence was, that he often failed in the field, and rarely against an enemy in station, as at Boston and York. He was incapable of fear, meeting personal dangers with the calmest unconcern. Perhaps the strongest feature in his character was prudence, never acting until every circumstance, every consideration, was maturely weighed; refraining if he saw a doubt, but when once decided, going through with his purpose, whatever obstacles opposed. His integrity was most pure, his justice the most inflexible I have ever known; no motives of interest or consanguinity, of friendship or hatred, being able to bias his decision. He was, indeed, in every sense of the word, a wise, a good, and a great man. His temper was naturally irritable and high toned; but reflection and resolution had obtained a firm and habitual ascendancy over it. If ever, however, it broke its bounds, he was most tremendous in his wrath. In his expenses he was honourable, but exact; liberal in contributions to whatever promised utility; but frowning and unyielding on all visionary projects, and all unworthy calls on his charity. His heart was not warm in its affections; but he exactly calculated every man's value, and gave him a solid esteem proportioned to it. His person, you know, was fine, his stature exactly what one would wish; his deportment easy, erect, and noble, the best horseman of his age, and the most graceful figure that could be seen on horseback. Although in the circle of his friends, where he might be unreserved with safety, he took a free share in conversation, his colloquial talents were not above mediocrity, possessing neither copiousness of ideas, nor fluency of words. In public, when called on for a sudden opinion, he was unready, short, and embarrassed. Yet he wrote readily, rather diffusely, in an easy and correct style. This he had acquired by conversation with the world, for his education was merely reading, writing, and common arithmetic, to which he added surveying at a later day. His time was employed in action chiefly, reading little, and that only in agriculture and English history. His correspondence became necessarily extensive, and with journalizing his agricultural proceedings, occupied most of his leisure hours within doors. On the whole, his character was, in its mass, perfect, in nothing bad, in a few points indifferent; and it may truly be said, that never did nature and fortune combine more completely to make a man great, and to place him in the same constellation with whatever wor