a lady whom he had
painted, years before, in the first blossoming of her own youth.

The gentleness and natural amiability of his disposition eminently
fitted him for the high social position he attained; but the fervor he
felt for his work made him forget everything foreign to it until the
hour arrived when he must leave his painting-room. He was fond of
receiving company, especially at dinner, and his dinners were always
most agreeable. He often annoyed his sister, Miss Reynolds, who presided
over his household for a time, by inviting any friends who might happen
into his studio in the morning to come to dine with him at night, quite
forgetting that the number of seats he had provided was already filled
by guests previously asked. The result was what might be expected, and
it was often simply bare good fortune if everybody had enough to eat.
But, "though the dinner might be careless and inelegant, and the
servants awkward and too few," the talk was always pleasant, and no
invitations to dine were more eagerly accepted than his.

It was on the principle, perhaps, that "to the feasts of the good the
good come uninvited," that Dr. Johnson made it a point to be present on
these occasions, and was seldom welcomed otherwise than most cordially
by Sir Joshua. On one occasion, however, when another guest was expected
to converse, Sir Joshua was really vexed to find Dr. Johnson in the
drawing-room, and would hardly speak to him. Miss Reynolds, who appears
to have been one of the "unappreciated and misunderstood" women who
thought she was a painter when she was not, and of whose copies Sir
Joshua said, "They make other people laugh, and me cry," became a great
favorite with Dr. Johnson, who probably knew how to sympathize with the
morbid sensitiveness of the poor lady. She seems never to have tired of
pouring tea for him! He, in return, wrote doggerel verses to her over
the tea-tray in this fashion:--

"I therefore pray thee, Renny dear,
That thou wilt give to me,
With cream and sugar softened well,
Another dish of tea.

"Nor fear that I, my gentle maid,
Shall long detain the cup,
When once unto the bottom I
Have drunk the liquor up.

"Yet hear, alas! this mournful truth,
Nor hear it with a frown:
Thou canst not make the tea so fast
As I can gulp it down."

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No.
102, April, 1866