year he accepted a situation as usher in a school; but that was rendered irksome to him from the pride and pomposity of its patron, Sir Wolstun Dixie. He finally threw up his situation in disgust, and becoming the guest of Mr. Hector (an eminent surgeon), embarked in the uncertainties of authorship. But even in these, his first works, may be observed the energetic and manly style (notwithstanding the mannerisms) which he is said to have initiated and taught his countrymen. His labors at this time were principally translations, dedications and essays. Having suggested some improvements in the management of the Gentleman's Magazine, its editor employed him as a contributor, and Johnson entered into an agreement to furnish those articles which he himself had the privilege of se

lecting. In the following year he married the widow of Mr. Porter, a mercer of Birmingham, a lady who, although twenty years his senior, is said to have been the object of his first passion. From this disparity, joined to a peculiar temper, their conjugal happiness was not uninterrupted. But he always spoke of her respectfully, and mourned her loss with unfeigned sorrow. With the fortune which she brought him he fitted up an academy. Three pupils only rewarded his endeavors. One of these was the celebrated David Garrick, who remained ever the devoted friend of Johnson. Their fortunes were as different as their peculiar abilities. Garrick, as is well known, devoted himself to the stage, and receiving its highest honors, retired on a fortune splendid beyond all precedent for an actor;

while Johnson struggled on, in poverty and comparative obscurity, for many a weary year. At the end of six months the school was declared a failure, and given up. His "London," an imitation of the third satire of Juvenal, won for Dr. Johnson the fame and respect of his contemporaries, and it was said, "the writer of so fine a poem cannot long remain unknown." He compares and contrasts the pleasures of a rural life with that of a city.

There none are swept by sudden fate away,
But all whom hunger spares, with age decay;
Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire,
And now a rabble rages, now a fire;

Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay,
And here the fell attorney prowls for prey;
Here falling houses thunder on your head,
And here a female atheist talks you dead.

His prejudice against France and Spain finds here a convenient outlet, and he deplores the introduction of those manners and occupations which might effeminate or degrade the more manly Briton. Imagining the effects he fears, he says:

Nor hope the British lineamcnts to trace,
The rustic grandeur or the surly grace,
But lost in thoughtless ease and empty show,
Behold the warrior dwindled to a beau;
Sense, freedom, piety, refined away,

Of France the mirror and of Spain the prey;
All that at home no more can beg or steal,
Or like a gibbet better than a wheel,

Hissed from the stage or hooted from the court,
Their air, their dress, their politics import;

Obsequious, artful, voluble and gay,

On Britain's fond credulity they prey,

.

Turn from this to the description of character. It would seem as if all the acerbity of Johnson was excited against

The supple Gaul who, born a parasite,
Still to his interest true where'er he goes,
Wit, bravery, worth his lavish tongue bestows;
In every face a thousand graces shine,
From every tongue flows harmony divine,
These arts in vain our rugged natives try,
Strain out with faltering diffidence a lie,
And gain a kick for awkward flattery.
Well may they venture on the mimic's art,
Who play from morn to night a borrowed part,

Practis'd their masters' notions to embrace,
Repeat his maxims and reflect his face,

With every wild absurdity comply,

And view each object with another's eye:
To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear,
To pour at will the counterfeited tear,
And as their patron hints the cold or heat,
To shake in dog-days, in December sweat,