ed to the experiment. Boswell
went off to Johnson and politely invited him in Dilly's name. "I will
wait upon him," said Johnson. "Provided, sir, I suppose," said the
diplomatic Boswell, "that the company which he is to have is agreeable
to you." "What do you mean, sir?" exclaimed Johnson. "What do you take
me for? Do you think I am so ignorant of the world as to prescribe to a
gentleman what company he is to have at his table?" Boswell worked the
point a little farther, till, by judicious manipulation, he had got
Johnson to commit himself to meeting anybody--even Jack Wilkes, to make
a wild hypothesis--at the Dillys' table. Boswell retired, hoping to
think that he had fixed the discussion in Johnson's mind.

The great day arrived, and Boswell, like a consummate general who leaves
nothing to chance, went himself to fetch Johnson to the dinner. The
great man had forgotten the engagement, and was "buffeting his books" in
a dirty shirt and amidst clouds of dust. When reminded of his promise,
he said that he had ordered dinner at home with Mrs. Williams.
Entreaties of the warmest kind from Boswell softened the peevish old
lady, to whose pleasure Johnson had referred him. Boswell flew back,
announced Mrs. Williams's consent, and Johnson roared, "Frank, a clean
shirt!" and was soon in a hackney-coach. Boswell rejoiced like a
"fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with him to
set out for Gretna Green." Yet the joy was with trembling. Arrived at
Dillys', Johnson found himself amongst strangers, and Boswell watched
anxiously from a corner. "Who is that gentleman?" whispered Johnson to
Dilly. "Mr. Arthur Lee." Johnson whistled "too-too-too" doubtfully, for
Lee was a patriot and an American. "And who is the gentleman in lace?"
"Mr. Wilkes, sir." Johnson subsided into a window-seat and fixed his eye
on a book. He was fairly in the toils. His reproof of Boswell was recent
enough to prevent him from exhibiting his displeasure, and he resolved
to restrain himself.

At dinner Wilkes, placed next to Johnson, took up his part in the
performance. He pacified the sturdy moralist by delicate attentions to
his needs. He helped him carefully to some fine veal. "Pray give me
leave, sir; it is better here--a little of the brown--some fat, sir--a
little of the stuffing--some gravy--let me have the pleasure of giving
you some butter. Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange; or the
lemon, perhaps, may have more zest." "S