g Johnson's first literary tasks
in London was the work of reporting the debates in Parliament. In order
that the best possible results might be obtained, he resorted to the
rather unique, but not entirely original, method of not attending
Parliament at all. Two or three young men would be sent to listen to the
debates; they would make notes giving the general drift of the argument,
and Johnson would write out the speech. His style was exactly suited to
this kind of work, being eminently rhetorical. And as at the time no
public record of proceedings was kept and Parliament did not allow the
press the liberty it now possesses--all being as it were clouded in
mysterious awe--these reports of debates were eagerly sought after. To
evade the law, a fictitious name was given the speaker, or his initials
used in such a way that the individual could be easily recognized by the
reading public.

Some of Johnson's best work was done at this time, and in several
instances the speaker, not slow to appreciate a good thing, allowed the
matter to be reissued as his own. Long years after, a certain man was once
praising the speeches of Lord Chesterfield and was led on to make
explanations. He did so, naming two speeches, one of which he zealously
declared had the style of Cicero; the other that of Demosthenes. Johnson
becalmed the speaker by agreeing with him as to the excellence of the
speeches, and then adding, "I wrote them both."

The gruffness of Ursa Major should never be likened to that of the Sage of
Chelsea. Carlyle vented his spleen on the nearest object, as irate
gentlemen sometimes kick at the cat; but Johnson merely sparred for
points. When Miss Monckton undertook to refute his statements as to the
shallowness of Sterne by declaring that "Tristram Shandy" affected her to
tears, Johnson rolled himself into contortions, made an exasperating
grimace, and replied, "Why, dearest, that is because you are a dunce!"
Afterward, when reproached for the remark, he replied, "Madam, if I had
thought so, I surely would not have said it."

Once, at the house of Garrick, to the terror of every one, Burke
contradicted Johnson flatly, but Johnson's good sense revealed itself by
his making no show of resentment. Burke's experience was, it must be said,
exceptional. An equally exciting, but harmless occasion, was the only time
that the author of "Rasselas" met the man who wrote the "Wealth of
Nations," Johnson called Adam Smith a liar, and S