, "desired to hear of the Punic War while he lived; such
conversation was lost time," he said, "and carried one away from common
life, leaving no ideas behind which could serve _living wight_ as warning
or direction."

"How I should act is not the case,
But how would Brutus in my place."

"And now," cries Mr. Johnson, laughing with obstreperous violence, "if
these two foolish lines can be equalled in folly, except by the two
succeeding ones--show them me."

I asked him once concerning the conversation powers of a gentleman with
whom I was myself unacquainted. "He talked to me at club one day,"
replies our Doctor, "concerning Catiline's conspiracy, so I withdrew my
attention, and thought about Tom Thumb."

Modern politics fared no better. I was one time extolling the character
of a statesman, and expatiating on the skill required to direct the
different currents, reconcile the jarring interests, etc. "Thus,"
replies he, "a mill is a complicated piece of mechanism enough, but the
water is no part of the workmanship." On another occasion, when some one
lamented the weakness of a then present minister, and complained that he
was dull and tardy, and knew little of affairs: "You may as well
complain, sir," says Johnson, "that the accounts of time are kept by the
clock; for he certainly does stand still upon the stair-head--and we all
know that he is no great chronologer." In the year 1777, or thereabouts,
when all the talk was of an invasion, he said most pathetically one
afternoon, "Alas! alas! how this unmeaning stuff spoils all my comfort in
my friends' conversation! Will the people have done with it; and shall I
never hear a sentence again without the _French_ in it? Here is no
invasion coming, and you _know_ there is none. Let the vexatious and
frivolous talk alone, or suffer it at least to teach you _one_ truth; and
learn by this perpetual echo of even unapprehended distress how
historians magnify events expected or calamities endured; when you know
they are at this very moment collecting all the big words they can find,
in which to describe a consternation never felt, for a misfortune which
never happened. Among all your lamentations, who eats the less--who
sleeps the worse, for one general's ill-success, or another's
capitulation? _Oh_, _pray_ let us hear no more of it!" No man, however,
was more zealously attached to his party; he not only loved a Tory
himself, but he loved a man the better if he