Mr. Eliot, with whom Dr. Walter Harte had travelled[258], talked to us of his History of Gustavus Adolphus, which he said was a very good book in the German translation.  JOHNSON.  ’Harte was excessively vain.  He put copies of his book in manuscript into the hands of Lord Chesterfield and Lord Granville, that they might revise it.  Now how absurd was it to suppose that two such noblemen would revise so big a manuscript.  Poor man! he left London the day of the publication of his book, that he might be out of the way of the great praise he was to receive; and he was ashamed to return, when he found how ill his book had succeeded.  It was unlucky in coming out on the same day with Robertson’s History of Scotland[259].  His husbandry[260], however, is good.’  BOSWELL.  ’So he was fitter for that than for heroick history:  he did well, when he turned his sword into a plough-share.’

Mr. Eliot mentioned a curious liquor peculiar to his country, which the Cornish fishermen drink.  They call it Mahogany; and it is made of two parts gin, and one part treacle, well beaten together.  I begged to have some of it made, which was done with proper skill by Mr. Eliot.  I thought it very good liquor; and said it was a counterpart of what is called Athol Porridge in the Highlands of Scotland, which is a mixture of whisky and honey.  Johnson said, ’that must be a better liquor than the Cornish, for both its component parts are better.’  He also observed, ’Mahogany must be a modern name; for it is not long since the wood called mahogany was known in this country.’  I mentioned his scale of liquors[261];—­claret for boys—­port for men—­brandy for heroes.  ’Then (said Mr. Burke) let me have claret:  I love to be a boy; to have the careless gaiety of boyish days.’  JOHNSON.  ’I should drink claret too, if it would give me that; but it does not:  it neither makes boys men, nor men boys.  You’ll be drowned by it, before it has any effect upon you.’

I ventured to mention a ludicrous paragraph in the newspapers, that Dr. Johnson was learning to dance of Vestris[262].  Lord Charlemont, wishing to excite him to talk, proposed in a whisper, that he should be asked, whether it was true.  ‘Shall I ask him?’ said his Lordship.  We were, by a great majority, clear for the experiment.  Upon which his Lordship very gravely, and with a courteous air said, ’Pray, Sir, is it true that you are taking lessons of Vestris?’ This was risking a good deal, and required the boldness of a General of Irish Volunteers to make the attempt.  Johnson was at first startled, and in some heat answered, ’How can your Lordship ask so simple a question?’ But immediately recovering himself, whether from unwillingness to be deceived, or to appear deceived, or whether from real good humour, he kept up the joke:  ’Nay, but if any body were to answer the paragraph, and contradict it, I’d have a reply, and would say, that he who contradicted it was no friend either to Vestris