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staunch in friendship, devoted to children, and considerate 
even of the feelings of his cat. Those who knew him best 
loved him most. Said Goldsmith, “ He has nothing of the 
bear but his skin.” 
During one of his later visits to Staffordshire he stood for 
an hour bareheaded in Uttoxeter market-place in penance 
for an early act of disobedience in refusing fifty years before 
to go there to take charge of his father’s bookstall. 
He was deeply religious. His written prayers and recorded 
determinations are among the most pathetic documents in 
the language — so sad, so indicative of fraility and of a bravery 
of intention that would never acknowledge itself beaten. 
It is easy to speak of his faults, but though anyone can sin 
like Johnson, it takes well-nigh a saint to repent as honestly 
and heart-brokenly as he did. 
He had a paralytic siesure in 1783. He had gone in fear 
of death all his days, but he bore his last afflictions patiently, 
and when he really faced death, which took him in 1784, he 
seems to have forgotten to be afraid. 
His books are not much read, and will probably be less 
read of the many in the future, but no man who wants to 
know the best of the eighteenth century can afford to be 
entirely ignorant of his Johnson. As a talker he was never 
excelled, and one wonders “ that one small head could carryall 
he knew.” His whole personality was remarkable and his 
influence on the side of good. 
It may confidently be asserted that in a hundred years 
reading and thinking Englishmen the world over will be 
celebrating his ter-centenary with even greater heartiness 
of appreciation than that with which we now honour the 
bi-centenary of him whom Hawthorne happily called “ The 
Mountainous Doctor.” 
Mr. Sargisson’s paper was illustrated by many quotations 
and anecdotes, and by a large number of lantern pictures, 
comprising portraits of Johnson and his friends, and photo- 
graphs of places associated with him and his relatives. 
