ich led to a heated discussion on the proper place of
sentiment in literature, and a general denunciation by Johnson of
Teutonic characteristics in general. We did not dance. Johnson said
that, of course, he spoke only for himself, but the sight of middle-aged
ladies and gentlemen catching hold of each other round the middle and
jigging about like children was to him rather a saddening spectacle, but
to the young such gambolling was natural. Let the young ones indulge
themselves. Only four of our party could claim to be under thirty with
any hope of success. They were kind enough not to impress the fact upon
us. Johnson enlivened the journey back by a searching analysis of
enjoyment: Of what did it really consist?

Yet, on wishing him "Good-night," our chieftainess thanked him for his
company in precisely the same terms she would have applied to Tompkins,
who, by unflagging good humour and tact, would have made the day worth
remembering to us all for all time.

And everyone obtained his just Deserts!

We pay dearly for our want of sincerity. We are denied the payment of
praise: it has ceased to have any value. People shake me warmly by the
hand and tell me that they like my books. It only bores me. Not that I
am superior to compliment--nobody is--but because I cannot be sure that
they mean it. They would say just the same had they never read a line I
had written. If I visit a house and find a book of mine open face
downwards on the window-seat, it sends no thrill of pride through my
suspicious mind. As likely as not, I tell myself, the following is the
conversation that has taken place between my host and hostess the day
before my arrival:

"Don't forget that man J--- is coming down to-morrow."

"To-morrow! I wish you would tell me of these things a little earlier."

"I did tell you--told you last week. Your memory gets worse every day."

"You certainly never told me, or I should have remembered it. Is he
anybody important?"

"Oh, no; writes books."

"What sort of books?--I mean, is he quite respectable?"

"Of course, or I should not have invited him. These sort of people go
everywhere nowadays. By the by, have we got any of his books about the
house?"

"I don't think so. I'll look and see. If you had let me know in time I
could have ordered one from Mudie's."

"Well, I've got to go to town; I'll make sure of it, and buy one."

"Seems a pity to waste money. Won't you be going an