le
him somewhat to Johnson, whom he, in affecting the English mode of
expression, had previously characterised as 'a superstitious dog;' but
after hearing such a criticism on Frederick the Great, with whom he was
then on bad terms, he exclaimed, 'An honest fellow!'

Mr. Levet this day shewed me Dr. Johnson's library, which was contained
in two garrets over his Chambers, where Lintot, son of the celebrated
bookseller of that name, had formerly his warehouse. I found a number of
good books, but very dusty and in great confusion. The floor was strewed
with manuscript leaves, in Johnson's own handwriting, which I beheld
with a degree of veneration, supposing they perhaps might contain
portions of The Rambler or of Rasselas. I observed an apparatus for
chymical experiments, of which Johnson was all his life very fond.
The place seemed to be very favourable for retirement and meditation.
Johnson told me, that he went up thither without mentioning it to his
servant, when he wanted to study, secure from interruption; for he would
not allow his servant to say he was not at home when he really was. 'A
servant's strict regard for truth, (said he) must be weakened by such a
practice. A philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial; but
few servants are such nice distinguishers. If I accustom a servant to
tell a lie for ME, have I not reason to apprehend that he will tell many
lies for HIMSELF.'

Mr. Temple, now vicar of St. Gluvias, Cornwall, who had been my intimate
friend for many years, had at this time chambers in Farrar's-buildings,
at the bottom of Inner Temple-lane, which he kindly lent me upon my
quitting my lodgings, he being to return to Trinity Hall, Cambridge.
I found them particularly convenient for me, as they were so near Dr.
Johnson's.

On Wednesday, July 20, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Dempster, and my uncle Dr.
Boswell, who happened to be now in London, supped with me at these
Chambers. JOHNSON. 'Pity is not natural to man. Children are always
cruel. Savages are always cruel. Pity is acquired and improved by the
cultivation of reason. We may have uneasy sensations from seeing a
creature in distress, without pity; for we have not pity unless we wish
to relieve them. When I am on my way to dine with a friend, and finding
it late, have bid the coachman make haste, if I happen to attend when
he whips his horses, I may feel unpleasantly that the animals are put to
pain, but I do not wish him to desist. No, Sir, I wis