Mr. Dilly himself was called down
stairs upon business; I left the room for some time; when I returned,
I was struck with observing Dr. Samuel Johnson and John Wilkes, Esq.,
literally tete-a-tete; for they were reclined upon their chairs, with
their heads leaning almost close to each other, and talking earnestly,
in a kind of confidential whisper, of the personal quarrel between
George the Second and the King of Prussia. Such a scene of perfectly
easy sociality between two such opponents in the war of political
controversy, as that which I now beheld, would have been an excellent
subject for a picture. It presented to my mind the happy days which are
foretold in Scripture, when the lion shall lie down with the kid.

After this day there was another pretty long interval, during which Dr.
Johnson and I did not meet. When I mentioned it to him with regret, he
was pleased to say, 'Then, Sir, let us live double.'

About this time it was much the fashion for several ladies to have
evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation
with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. These
societies were denominated Blue-stocking Clubs, the origin of which
title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of the
most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was
Mr. Stillingfleet, whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular
it was observed, that he wore blue stockings. Such was the excellence of
his conversation, that his absence was felt as so great a loss, that
it used to be said, 'We can do nothing without the blue stockings;'
and thus by degrees the title was established. Miss Hannah More has
admirably described a Blue-stocking Club, in her Bas Bleu, a poem in
which many of the persons who were most conspicuous there are mentioned.

Johnson was prevailed with to come sometimes into these circles, and
did not think himself too grave even for the lively Miss Monckton (now
Countess of Corke), who used to have the finest BIT OF BLUE at the house
of her mother, Lady Galway. Her vivacity enchanted the Sage, and they
used to talk together with all imaginable ease. A singular instance
happened one evening, when she insisted that some of Sterne's writings
were very pathetick. Johnson bluntly denied it. 'I am sure (said she,)
they have affected ME.' 'Why, (said Johnson, smiling, and rolling
himself about,) that is, because, dearest, you're a dunce.' Whe