Levet this day shewed me Dr. Johnson's library, which was contained
in two garrets over his Chambers, where Lintot, son of the celebrated
bookseller of that name, had formerly his warehouse. I found a number of
good books, but very dusty and in great confusion. The floor was strewed
with manuscript leaves, in Johnson's own handwriting, which I beheld
with a degree of veneration, supposing they perhaps might contain
portions of The Rambler or of Rasselas. I observed an apparatus for
chymical experiments, of which Johnson was all his life very fond.
The place seemed to be very favourable for retirement and meditation.
Johnson told me, that he went up thither without mentioning it to his
servant, when he wanted to study, secure from interruption; for he would
not allow his servant to say he was not at home when he really was. 'A
servant's strict regard for truth, (said he) must be weakened by such a
practice. A philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial; but
few servants are such nice distinguishers.
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