the
conversation?" "That was because you frighted him who spoke first about
those hot balls." "Why, madam, if a creature is neither capable of
giving dignity to falsehood, nor willing to remain contented with the
truth, he deserves no better treatment."

Mr. Johnson's fixed incredulity of everything he heard, and his little
care to conceal that incredulity, was teasing enough, to be sure; and I
saw Mr. Sharp was pained exceedingly when relating the history of a
hurricane that happened about that time in the West Indies, where, for
aught I know, he had himself lost some friends too, he observed Dr.
Johnson believed not a syllable of the account. "For 'tis _so_ easy,"
says he, "for a man to fill his mouth with a wonder, and run about
telling the lie before it can be detected, that I have no heart to
believe hurricanes easily raised by the first inventor, and blown
forwards by thousands more." I asked him once if he believed the story
of the destruction of Lisbon by an earthquake when it first happened.
"Oh! not for six months," said he, "at least. I _did_ think that story
too dreadful to be credited, and can hardly yet persuade myself that it
was true to the full extent we all of us have heard."

Among the numberless people, however, whom I heard him grossly and flatly
contradict, I never yet saw any one who did not take it patiently
excepting Dr. Burney, from whose habitual softness of manners I little
expected such an exertion of spirit; the event was as little to be
expected. Mr. Johnson asked his pardon generously and genteelly, and
when he left the room, rose up to shake hands with him, that they might
part in peace. On another occasion, when he had violently provoked Mr.
Pepys, in a different but perhaps not a less offensive manner, till
something much too like a quarrel was grown up between them, the moment
he was gone, "Now," says Dr. Johnson, "is Pepys gone home hating me, who
love him better than I did before. He spoke in defence of his dead
friend; but though I hope _I_ spoke better who spoke against him, yet all
my eloquence will gain me nothing but an honest man for my enemy!" He
did not, however, cordially love Mr. Pepys, though he respected his
abilities. "I know the dog was a scholar," said he when they had been
disputing about the classics for three hours together one morning at
Streatham, "but that he had so much taste and so much knowledge I did
_not_ believe. I might have taken Barnard's w