This was in 1755. In 1760, when Dr.
Burney visited Dr. Johnson at the Temple in London, where he had then
chambers, he happened to arrive there before he was up; and being shewn
into the room where he was to breakfast, finding himself alone,
he examined the contents of the apartment, to try whether he could
undiscovered steal anything to send to his friend Bewley, as another
relick of the admirable Dr. Johnson. But finding nothing better to his
purpose, he cut some bristles off his hearth-broom, and enclosed them
in a letter to his country enthusiast, who received them with due
reverence. The Doctor was so sensible of the honour done him by a man
of genius and science, to whom he was an utter stranger, that he said to
Dr. Burney, "Sir, there is no man possessed of the smallest portion of
modesty, but must be flattered with the admiration of such a man. I'll
give him a set of my Lives, if he will do me the honour to accept
of them." In this he kept his word; and Dr. Burney had not only the
pleasure of gratifying his friend with a present more worthy of his
acceptance than the segment from the hearth-broom, but soon after of
introducing him to Dr.
Pages:
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970