of his own accord, do things inconsistent with the established modes of behaviour.  Sitting at table with the celebrated Mrs. Cholmondeley, who exerted herself to circulate the subscription for Shakespeare, he took hold of her hand, in the middle of dinner, and held it close to his eye, wondering at the delicacy and whiteness, till, with a smile, she asked, “Will he give it to me again, when he has done with it?” The exteriors of politeness did not belong to Johnson.  Even that civility, which proceeds, or ought to proceed, from the mind, was sometimes violated.  His morbid melancholy had an effect on his temper; his passions were irritable; and the pride of science, as well as of a fierce independent spirit, inflamed him, on some occasions, above all bounds of moderation.  Though not in the shade of academic bowers, he led a scholastic life; and the habit of pronouncing decisions to his friends and visitors, gave him a dictatorial manner, which was much enforced by a voice naturally loud, and often overstretched.  Metaphysical discussion, moral theory, systems of religion, and anecdotes of literature, were his favourite topics.  General history had little of his regard.  Biography was his delight.  The proper study of mankind is man.  Sooner than hear of the Punic war, he would be rude to the person that introduced the subject.

Johnson was born a logician; one of those, to whom only books of logic are said to be of use.  In consequence of his skill in that art, he loved argumentation.  No man thought more profoundly, nor with such acute discernment.  A fallacy could not stand before him; it was sure to be refuted by strength of reasoning, and a precision, both in idea and expression, almost unequalled.  When he chose, by apt illustration, to place the argument of his adversary in a ludicrous light, one was almost inclined to think ridicule the test of truth.  He was surprised to be told, but it is certainly true, that, with great powers of mind, wit and humour were his shining talents.  That he often argued for the sake of triumph over his adversary, cannot be dissembled.  Dr. Rose, of Chiswick, has been heard to tell of a friend of his, who thanked him for introducing him to Dr. Johnson, as he had been convinced, in the course of a long dispute, that an opinion, which he had embraced as a settled truth, was no better than a vulgar error.  This being reported to Johnson, “Nay,” said he, “do not let him be thankful, for he was right, and I was wrong.”  Like his uncle Andrew, in the ring at Smithfield, Johnson, in a circle of disputants, was determined neither to be thrown nor conquered.  Notwithstanding all his piety, self-government or the command of his passions in conversation, does not seem to have been among his attainments.  Whenever he thought the contention was for superiority, he has been known to break out with violence, and even ferocity.  When the fray was over, he generally softened into repentance, and, by conciliating measures,