ders of which the late King was a member, ermine and silken hose; the other room contained the habiliment of ordinary wear -coats, waistcoats, trousers, and especially boots, shoes, and hats enough to equip a regiment. One spectator purchased 150 hats, 200 whips, and a great portion of the contents of this room. Among the buyers we hear of Prince Esterhazy, Lord Londonderry a cane at the price of 30 guineas, and Lord Chesterfield purchased for 220 a cloak lined with sable, the original cost of which was 800. Hamlet, the jeweller, bought the whole of the gold-headed canes. Gray's description of Southampton Row in 1759.—“I am now settled in my new territories commanding Bedford Gardens and all the fields as far as Highgate and Hampstead, with such a concourse of moving pictures as would astonish you—so rus in urbe-ish that I believe I shall stay here, except little excursions and vagaries, for a year to come. What though I am separated from the fashionable world by the broad St. Giles's and many a dirty court and alley, yet here is quiet and air and sunshine. However, to comfort you, I shall confess that I am basking with heat all the summer, and, I suppose, shall be blown down all the winter, besides being robbed every night. I trust, however, that the Museum, with all its manuscripts and rarities by the cartload, will make amends for the aforesaid inconveniences. I this day passed through the jaws of the great leviathan superintendent of the Reading-room." Johnsoniana.-Besides his household, Johnson had a score of outdoor dependants on his bounty, "People who didn't like to see him," he said, "unless he brought 'em money." He called upon his rich friends to help them, making it his duty to urge their charity upon them. He excused himself for turning his back upon a lord because his lordship was not in a rich dress becoming his rank. Rudely treated by Dr. Johnson, Dean Barnard wrote: "Dear Knight of Plympton, teach me how To suffer with unclouded prow And smile serene as thine The jest uncouth, the truth severe, Like thee to turn my deafest ear And calmly drink my wine." Johnson always praised Addison, though he did not seem really to like him. He was greatly disgusted with the coarse language used on board a man-of-war. He asked an officer what was the name of some part of the ship, and was answered it was the place where the loblolly man kept his loblolly. The reply he considered as "disrespectful, gross, and ignorant." I should like to have seen his face when the officer spoke. He said of a pious man, "I should as soon have thought of contradicting a Bishop." He once saw Chesterfield's son in Dodsley's shop, and was so much struck by his awkward manner and appearance, he could not help asking who the gentleman was. Johnson's Funeral.-His body was brought out of Bolt Court preceded by two clergymen, to a hearse and six in Fleet Street. This was followed by the executors, Reynolds, Sir W. Scott, &c., in a coach and four; by the Literary Club in eight coaches and four; by two coaches and four containing the pall-bearers, Burke, Windham, Bunbury, &c. After these followed two other mourning-coaches and four, and thirteen gentlemen's carriages closed the procession. He was deposited in the Abbey by the side of Mr. Garrick, with the feet opposite Shakespeare's monument. Not far from Johnson's grave, by the monument to Addison, stands the bust which was put up by some of my father's friends to his memory. It is not in marble that he is best portrayed, but in the constant impressions of his life and words and ways, and in these collected fragments enough has been given to show what he was in himself, something more than a writer and master of his art. A. I. R. 13th February 1899. I have to thank those old and new friends, and old friends' children, who have assisted me to put these notes together; most of all my sister-in-law, Emily Ritchie, whose help has alone enabled me to finish this work. PROPERTY OF THE BALLADS SONG OF THE VIOLET A HUMBLE flower long time I pined And trembled at the angry wind, And shrank before the bitter rain. And oh! 'twas in a blessed hour A passing wanderer chanced to see, I fear no more the tempest rude, To deck the breast of Caroline. It draws the fragrance from my leaves, An hour to rest on that sweet breast, |