the only book, which being printed off
betimes one morning, a new edition was called for before night."

Mr. Johnson's knowledge of literary history was extensive and surprising.
He knew every adventure of every book you could name almost, and was
exceedingly pleased with the opportunity which writing the "Poets' Lives"
gave him to display it. He loved to be set at work, and was sorry when
he came to the end of the business he was about. I do not feel so myself
with regard to these sheets: a fever which has preyed on me while I wrote
them over for the press, will perhaps lessen my power of doing well the
first, and probably the last work I should ever have thought of
presenting to the public. I could doubtless wish so to conclude it, as
at least to show my zeal for my friend, whose life, as I once had the
honour and happiness of being useful to, I should wish to record a few
particular traits of, that those who read should emulate his goodness;
but feeling the necessity of making even virtue and learning such as
_his_ agreeable, that all should be warned against such coarseness of
manners, as drove even from _him_ those who loved, honoured, and esteemed
him. His wife's daughter, Mrs. Lucy Porter, of Lichfield, whose
veneration for his person and character has ever been the greatest
possible, being opposed one day in conversation by a clergyman who came
often to her house, and feeling somewhat offended, cried out sudden,
"Why, Mr. Pearson," said she, "you are just like Dr. Johnson, I think: I
do not mean that you are a man of the greatest capacity in all the world
like Dr. Johnson, but that you contradict one every word one speaks, just
like him."

Mr. Johnson told me the story: he was present at the giving of the
reproof. It was, however, observable, that with all his odd severity, he
could not keep even indifferent people from teasing him with
unaccountable confessions of silly conduct, which one would think they
would scarcely have had inclination to reveal even to their tenderest and
most intimate companions; and it was from these unaccountable volunteers
in sincerity that he learned to warn the world against follies little
known, and seldom thought on by other moralists.

Much of his eloquence, and much of his logic, have I heard him use to
prevent men from making vows on trivial occasions; and when he saw a
person oddly perplexed about a slight difficulty, "Let the man alone," he
would say, "and torment him