Molly and a Betty, but that though Betty loved him the best, he took most delight in Molly's company. "When I turned about to laugh," he said, in telling the story, "I saw my wife was crying. Pretty charmer, she had no reason." Mrs. Johnson's name was Elizabeth, and she knew of her husband's admiration for Molly Aston. As far as can be ascertained, the marriage was a happy one, and in after days he spoke of his wife with fond regret. When talking of her to Mrs. Thrale, he had nothing to complain of but her "particular reverence for cleanliness," which seems to have caused a good deal of annoyance to her husband.

But, without doubt, she was a woman of good understanding, and had a thorough appreciation of her husband's worth. To the last he thought her a beauty, and this may, to some extent, be explained by his imperfect vision, which toned down her high colour and exuberant proportions. Apart, however, from his admiration for her personal charms, his affection for her was very deep and earnest, and in the "Prayers and Meditations " her name is often mentioned with affection.

Johnson obtained with his wife a fortune of £800, but it appears from a deed, recently discovered, that a part of this was lost through the insolvency of a Birmingham attorney, named Perks. With the remainder the newly-married pair resolved to set up a school, and Edial Hall, near Lichfield, was hired for the undertaking. But, notwithstanding the exertions of friends, and advertisements in The Gentleman's Magazine, the academy never became a success. David Garrick and (according to Percy) Hawkesworth, both of them nearly

arrived at man's estate, with George Garrick, a younger brother of David, were among the pupils, but the number never, at most, exceeded eight. After about a year and a half the school was given up, and Johnson determined to seek his fortunes in London.

CHAPTER III.

HILE Johnson was at Edial Hall he had com

WHIL

menced his tragedy of "Irene," founded on an incident in Knolles's "History of the Turks." He had shown this production to his friend Gilbert Walmsley, Registrar of the Ecclesiastical Court, who pointed out that the misfortunes of the heroine had begun too early in the play. "How can you possibly contrive," he said, "to plunge her into deeper calamity?" "Sir," said Dr. Johnson, "I can put her into the Spiritual Court." Mr. Walmsley, however, notwithstanding the premature sorrows of Irene, thought well of the piece, and advised its author to finish it. With this tragedy, of which only the first three acts were then written, Johnson started for London, without any fixed plan, except to finish "Irene," and to get it produced on the stage.

He had probably selected the branch of literature in which he was least qualified to succeed, but the theatre in those days offered great attractions to literary men. It undoubtedly appeared the easiest road to fame and fortune, and the works of writers, little conversant with the drama, had achieved brilliant success on the stage. Addison's "Cato" had been received with unbounded

applause by the public, and the play, when published, had gone through eight editions in less than six months. For the "Conscious Lovers," Steele, besides the customary profits, which must have been considerable, received a present of five hundred guineas from the king. The "Beggar's Opera" had won a popularity such as no play by Congreve or Farquhar had ever obtained, and Gay received for his share of the "author's nights" about seven hundred pounds. It can scarcely be thought surprising that a novice, about to plunge into the struggles of literary life, should turn his eyes to the theatre, where it was possible to obtain such profitable results.

Johnson was accompanied to London by his old pupil, David Garrick, who was intended to read for the Bar, but of this interesting journey we have no satisfactory account, though there is one humorous story on the subject. "That was the year," said Johnson, at a large dinner party, by way of fixing the date of some event, "when I came to London with twopence-halfpenny in my pocket." Garrick, who was present, overhearing him, exclaimed: "Eh! what do you say? with twopencehalfpenny in your pocket?" "Why, yes," replied Johnson, "when I came with twopence-halfpenny in my pocket, and thou, Davy, with three-halfpence in thine." Garrick, who could have supplied Boswell with valuable information on this and other subjects, connected with Johnson's early career, was dead many years before the "Life" was commenced.

When the time comes for a biography to be written, it is often difficult to obtain details of the hero. Many of

his youthful contemporaries are dead, and he himself, having attained distinction and competence, is not always willing to look back on the difficulties of his early days. Mrs. Piozzi relates a story of Johnson bursting into a passion of tears, as he read the lines from his own satire which tell of the "ills which assail the scholar's life," and which were probably founded on his own experience. Boswell, the most diligent of biographers, is obliged to confess that not much could be ascertained about this period of Johnson's life.

On his first arrival in London, he hired a room in Exeter Street, Strand, at the house of Mr. Norris, a staymaker, and we know something of his manner of living from his own description. "I dined," said he, "very well for eightpence, with very good company, at the 'Pine Apple,' in New Street, just by. Several of them had travelled. They expected to meet every day, but we did not know each other's names. It used to cost the rest a shilling, for they drank wine; but I had a cut of meat for sixpence, and bread for a penny, and gave the waiter a penny, so that I was quite as well served, nay, better, than the rest, for they gave the waiter nothing." He had previously learned, from an Irish painter, whom he had known at Birmingham, the art of "living in a garret on eighteen pence a week," and it was now necessary to turn this knowledge to a practical use. But, notwithstanding economy and self-denial, his finances began to run short, and he was obliged to apply for assistance to Mr. Wilcox, a bookseller in the Strand, who, seeing his burly form, told him he had better buy a porter's knot. The advice was not encouraging, but Wilcox proved to be one of