tion, should mark his burial-place; and accordingly the following memorial is found upon a tablet, at the church where he reposes:

"Near this place lies interred all that was mortal of the Right Honorable Edmund Burke, who died on the 9th of July, 1797, aged sixty-eight years."

SAMUEL JOHNSON.

THIS extraordinary man was born at Lichfield, in England, September 18, 1709. His father, Michael Johnson, was a bookseller, in humble circumstances, of strong and active mind, but deeply afflicted with constitutional melancholy. He was a man of some education and strict piety. His wife, Sarah Ford, was a woman of good natural sense, but extremely illiterate.

Johnson's wonderful memory appears to have displayed itself in early life. When he was a child in petticoats, and had but just learnt to read, his mother, one morning, put the common prayer-book into his hand, pointed to the collect for the day, and said, 66 Sam, you must get this by heart." She went up stairs, leaving him to study it; but by the time she had reached the second floor, she heard him following her. "What's the matter?" said she. "I can say it," he replied, and repeated it distinctly, though he could not have read it more than twice.

There is an anecdote of his precocity, which is quite amusing. It is said that when a child of three years old, he chanced to tread upon a duckling, the eleventh

of a brood, and killed it: upon which he composed the following epitaph:

Here lies good Master Duck,

Whom Samuel Johnson trod on;

If it had lived, it had been good luck,
For then we'd had an odd one.

There is, however, good reason to believe that this story is not well founded.

Young Johnson was much afflicted with the scrofula, or king's evil, which disfigured his face, and rendered his eye-sight so imperfect, that he could see with difficulty. In infancy he was almost blind, and as the notion then prevailed that the royal touch could remove this disease, his mother took him to London, in 1712, where he was actually touched by Queen Anne. It is needless to add that it was of no avail.

Although Johnson was then but thirty months old, he was able, at an advanced age, to recollect the particulars of the journey to London, and his being in the presence of the queen. He remembered her as "a lady in diamonds, with a long black hood." He said that his mother bought him a small silver cup and spoon, marked Sam. J. She bought him also a speckled linen frock, which he knew afterwards by the name of his London frock. The cup was one of the last pieces of plate his wife sold, in the distressing poverty to which they were at one time reduced. The spoon was kept by Johnson till his death. His mother bought, at the same time, two teaspoons, and until Johnson's manhood, she had no other.

These

particulars Johnson related from memory, when near seventy years of age.

He was first taught to read by Dame Oliver, a widow, who kept a school for young children, at Lichfield. When he was, some years afterwards, going to the University of Oxford, the good woman brought him a present of gingerbread, and told him he was the best scholar she ever had. His next instructor was Thomas Brown, who published a spelling-book, and dedicated it to the Universe!

He began his studies in Latin at the Lichfield school, where he made great progress. He seemed to learn by intuition, and, though naturally indolent, when he made an exertion, it was with great effect. He soon acquired an authority over his companions, which was singularly manifested. Though he was very fat and heavy, three of his friends used frequently to come to his house, and carry him to school, one taking him on his back, and the others giving a lift at each leg. His memory, at this period, was so retentive, that, on one occasion, his master having recited eighteen verses, Johnson immediately repeated them, without missing a word, and only changing an epithet, by which he improved the line.

He never joined with the other boys in their ordinary diversions. One of his few amusements was to be drawn along upon the ice by a boy who was barefoot. His defective eye-sight, indeed, prevented him from enjoying the common sports of youth. He was accustomed to saunter away many of his hours in the fields, during vacation, frequently talking to himself. He was also addicted to the reading of romances,