ene"; a tale, "Rasselas"; a
book of travel, a "Journey to the Hebrides"; and many biographies,
including the "Lives of the Poets." His largest undertaking was an
English dictionary, upon which he spent eight years of labor.

At length his pecuniary troubles came to an end when, in 1762, the
government awarded him a pension of L300 a year. By this time his
great intellectual gifts had begun to be appreciated, and he was the
first man of letters in England. In Thackeray's phrase, he "was
revered as a sort of oracle."

Johnson was now too old to acquire the graces of polite society, even
had he wished them. His huge, uncouth figure and rolling walk, his
countenance disfigured by scrofula, his blinking eyes, his convulsive
movements, his slovenly dress and boorish manners made him a strange
figure in the circles which entertained him.

His appetite was enormous, and he ate "like a famished wolf, the veins
swelling on his forehead, and the perspiration running down his
cheeks." He usually declined wine, but his capacity for tea was
unlimited. Many funny stories are told of the number of cups poured
for him by obliging hostesses, for, oddly enough, he was a great
favorite with the ladies, and knew how to turn a pretty compliment.
His temper was at times very irritable and morbid, and he occasionally
had violent fits of rage. Yet, with all these peculiarities, he had a
kind heart and was sincerely religious. His devotion to his wife and
his aged mother[18] was very touching, and the poor and infirm knew
his charities. In his own lodgings he provided a home for an oddly
assorted family of dependents, consisting of an old man, a blind
woman, a negro boy, and a cat. All the details of his daily life and
habits are minutely described in a biography written by his admiring
friend, Boswell, who was intimately associated with him for many
years. The book he wrote after Johnson's death tells us not only all
about the learned doctor, but much also about his friends.

[Footnote 18: His wife died in 1752, and his mother in 1759 at the age
of ninety.]

[Illustration: DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON]

Reynolds was one of his warm friends, and the two understood each
other well. Often when they were together in company, the painter's
tact and courtesy smoothed over some breach of etiquette on the part
of his companion. At Reynolds's suggestion, the two founded together a
small club of congenial spirits, called the Literary Club.

Some other goo