icity was ever free, may for a time furnish folly with
laughter, and harden ignorance in contempt, but useful diligence
will at last prevail, and there never can be wanting some who
distinguish desert; who will consider that no dictionary of a living
tongue ever can be perfect, since while it is hastening to
publication, some words are budding, and some falling away; that a
whole life cannot be spent upon syntax and etymology, and that even
a whole life would not be sufficient; that he, whose design includes
whatever language can express, must often speak of what he does not
understand; that a writer will sometimes be tarried by eagerness to
the end, and sometimes faint with weariness under a task, which
Scaliger compares to the labors of the anvil and the mine; that what
is obvious is not always known, and what is known is not always
present; that sudden fits of inadvertency will surprise vigilance,
slight avocations will seduce attention, and casual eclipses of the
mind will darken learning; and that the writer shall often in vain
trace his memory at the moment of need, for that which yesterday he
knew with intuitive readiness, and which will come uncalled into his
thoughts to-morrow.

I know no better way of celebrating Doctor Johnson's birthday than by
quoting a few passages from his "Prayers and Meditations," jotted down
during his life in small note-books and given shortly before his death
to a friend. No one understands the dear old doctor unless he remembers
that his spirit was greatly perplexed and harassed by sad and disordered
broodings. The bodily twitchings and odd gestures which attracted so
much attention as he rolled about the streets were symptoms of painful
twitchings and gestures within. A great part of his intense delight in
convivial gatherings, in conversation and the dinner table, was due to
his eagerness to be taken out of himself. One fears that his solitary
hours were very often tragic.

There were certain dates which Doctor Johnson almost always commemorated
in his private notebook--his birthday, the date of his wife's death,
the Easter season and New Year's. In these pathetic little entries one
sees the spirit that was dogmatic and proud among men abasing itself in
humility and pouring out the generous tenderness of an affectionate
nature. In these moments of contrition small peccadilloes took on tragic
importance in his