The great business of his life (he said) was
to escape from himself; this disposition he considered as the disease of
his mind, which nothing cured but company.
'One instance of his absence and particularity, as it is characteristick
of the man, may be worth relating. When he and I took a journey together
into the West, we visited the late Mr. Banks, of Dorsetshire; the
conversation turning upon pictures, which Johnson could not well see, he
retired to a corner of the room, stretching out his right leg as far as
he could reach before him, then bringing up his left leg, and stretching
his right still further on. The old gentleman observing him, went up to
him, and in a very courteous manner assured him, that though it was not
a new house, the flooring was perfectly safe. The Doctor started from
his reverie, like a person waked out of his sleep, but spoke not a
word.'
While we are on this subject, my readers may not be displeased with
another anecdote, communicated to me by the same friend, from the
relation of Mr.
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