he whispered to one of his acquaintances,--

"I say, Neighbor Hutchins, would ye like to know who this old gentleman
is?"

"Ay, that I would," replied Neighbor Hutchins, "for a queerer chap I
never saw in my life. Somehow it makes me feel small to look at him.
He's more than a common man."

"You may well say so," answered the cattle-drover. "Why, that's the
famous Doctor Samuel Johnson, who they say is the greatest and
learnedest man in England. I saw him in London streets, walking with
one Mr. Boswell."

Yes; the poor boy, the friendless Sam, with whom we began our story, had
become the famous Doctor Samuel Johnson. He was universally
acknowledged as the wisest man and greatest writer in all England. He
had given shape and permanence to his native language by his Dictionary.
Thousands upon thousands of people had read his Idler, his Rambler, and
his Rasselas. Noble and wealthy men and beautiful ladies deemed it
their highest privilege to be his companions. Even the King of Great
Britain had sought his acquaintance, and told him what an honor he
considered it that such a man had been born in his dominions. He was
now at the summit of literary renown.

But all his fame could not extinguish the bitter remembrance which had
tormented him through life. Never never had he forgotten his father's
sorrowful and upbraiding look. Never, though the old man's troubles had
been over so many years, had he forgiven himself for inflicting such a
pang upon his heart. And now, in his old age, he had come hither to do