the virtue of the act resided in the
circumstance of his being awake and reading a good book two hours
ahead of his wonted time for beginning his day. If he colored his
remark so as to make us think he got up and dressed before reading, he
may be forgiven. It was innocently spoken. Just as a man who lives in
one room will somehow involuntarily fall into the habit of speaking of
that one room in the plural, so the doctor added a touch which would
render him heroic in the eyes of those who knew him. I should like a
pictorial book-plate representing Dr. Johnson, in gown and nightcap,
sitting up in bed reading the _Anatomy of Melancholy_, with Hodge, the
cat, curled up contentedly at his feet.

It would be interesting to know whether Johnson ever read, in bed or
out, a book called _Euphues, the Anatomy of Wit_. It was published in
the spring of 1579 by Gabriel Cawood, 'dwelling in Paules Churchyard,'
and was followed one year later by a second part, _Euphues and his
England_. These books were the work of John Lyly, a young Oxford
Master of Arts. According to the easy orthography of that time (if the
word orthography may be applied to a practice by virtue of which every
man spelled as seemed right in his own eyes), Lyly's name is found in
at least six forms: Lilye, Lylie, Lilly, Lyllie, Lyly, and Lylly.
Remembering the willingness of _i_ and _y_ to bear one another's
burdens, we may still exclaim, with Dr. Ingleby, 'Great is the mystery
of archaic spelling!' Great indeed when a man sometimes had more suits
of letters to his name than suits of clothes to his back. That the
name of this young author was pronounced as was the name of the
flower, lily, seems the obvious inference from Henry Upchear's verses,
which contain punning allusions to Lyly and Robert Greene:--

'Of all the flowers a Lillie once I lov'd
Whose laboring beautie brancht itself abroad,' etc.

Original editions of the _Anatomy of Wit_ and its fellow are very
rare. Probably there is not a copy of either book in the United
States. This statement is ventured in good faith, and may have the
effect of bringing to light a hitherto neglected copy.[1] Strange it
is that princely collectors of yore appear not to have cared for
_Euphues_. Surely one would not venture to affirm that John, Duke of
Roxburghe, might not have had it if he had wanted it. The book is not
to be found in his sale catalogue; he had Lyly's plays in quarto,
seven of them each marked 'rar