ted upon him and made an apology, he behaved with the
most friendly gentleness[353].

While I remained in London this year[354], Johnson and I dined together
at several places. I recollect a placid day at Dr. Butter's[355], who
had now removed from Derby to Lower Grosvenor-street, London; but of his
conversation on that and other occasions during this period, I neglected
to keep any regular record[356], and shall therefore insert here some
miscellaneous articles which I find in my Johnsonian notes.

His disorderly habits, when 'making provision for the day that was
passing over him[357],' appear from the following anecdote, communicated
to me by Mr. John Nichols:--'In the year 1763, a young bookseller, who
was an apprentice to Mr. Whiston, waited on him with a subscription to
his _Shakspeare_: and observing that the Doctor made no entry in any
book of the subscriber's name, ventured diffidently to ask, whether he
would please to have the gentleman's address, that it might be properly
inserted in the printed list of subscribers. '_I shall print no list of
subscribers_;' said Johnson, with great abruptness: but almost
immediately recollecting himself, added, very complacently, 'Sir, I have
two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of subscribers;--one,
that I have lost all the names,--the other, that I have spent all
the money.'

Johnson could not brook appearing to be worsted in argument, even when
he had taken the wrong side, to shew the force and dexterity of his
talents. When, therefore, he perceived that his opponent gained ground,
he had recourse to some sudden mode of robust sophistry. Once when I was
pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me thus:--'My dear
Boswell, let's have no more of this; you'll make nothing of it. I'd
rather have you whistle a Scotch tune.'

Care, however, must be taken to distinguish between Johnson when he
'talked for victory[358],' and Johnson when he had no desire but to
inform and illustrate. 'One of Johnson's principal talents (says an
eminent friend of his)[359] was shewn in maintaining the wrong side of
an argument, and in a splendid perversion of the truth. If you could
contrive to have his fair opinion on a subject, and without any bias
from personal prejudice, or from a wish to be victorious in argument, it
was wisdom itself, not only convincing, but overpowering.'

He had, however, all his life habituated himself to consider
conversation as a trial of i