'Nay, (said
Dr. Johnson,) it may be useful in land where there are many stones to
raise; but it certainly is not a good instrument for digging good land.
A man may toss it, to be sure; but he will toss a light spade much
better: its weight makes it an incumbrance. A man _may_ dig any land
with it; but he has no occasion for such a weight in digging good land.
You may take a field piece to shoot sparrows; but all the sparrows you
can bring home will not be worth the charge.' He was quite social and
easy amongst them; and, though he drank no fermented liquor, toasted
Highland beauties with great readiness. His conviviality engaged them so
much, that they seemed eager to shew their attention to him, and vied
with each other in crying out, with a strong Celtick pronunciation,
'Toctor Shonson, Toctor Shonson, your health!'
This evening one of our married ladies, a lively pretty little woman,
good-humouredly sat down upon Dr. Johnson's knee, and, being encouraged
by some of the company, put her hands round his neck, and kissed him.
'Do it again, (said he,) and let us see who will tire first.' He kept
her on his knee some time, while he and she drank tea. He was now like a
_buck_[712] indeed. All the company were much entertained to find him so
easy and pleasant. To me it was highly comick, to see the grave
philosopher,--the Rambler,-toying with a Highland beauty[713]!--But what
could he do? He must have been surly, and weak too, had he not behaved
as he did.
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