In 1775, Sir Joshua Reynolds painted his famous portrait of Dr. Johnson, in which he represented him as reading, and near-sighted. This latter circumstance was very displeasing to the “Giant of Literature,” who reproved Reynolds, saying, “It is not friendly to hand down to posterity the imperfections of any man.” But Reynolds, on the contrary, considered it a natural peculiarity which gave additional value to the portrait. Johnson complained of the caricature to Mrs. Thrale, who to console him, said that he would not be known to posterity by his defects only, and that Reynolds had painted for her his own portrait, with the ear-trumpet. He replied, “He may paint himself as deaf as he chooses, but he shall not paint me as _blinking Sam_.” JOHNSON’S DEATH. “Amidst the applause,” says Cunningham, “which these works obtained for him, the President met with a loss which the world could not repair--Samuel Johnson died on the 13th of December, 1784, full of years and honors. A long, a warm, and a beneficial friendship had subsisted between them. The house and the purse of Reynolds were ever open to Johnson, and the word and the pen of Johnson were equally ready for Reynolds. It was pleasing to contemplate this affectionate brotherhood, and it was sorrowful to see it dissevered. ‘I have three requests to make,’ said Johnson, the day before his death, ‘and I beg that you will attend to them, Sir Joshua. Forgive me thirty pounds, which I borrowed from you--read the Scriptures--and abstain from using your pencil on the Sabbath-day.’ Reynolds promised, and--what is better--remembered his promise?” REYNOLDS AND GOLDSMITH. We hear much about “poetic inspiration,” and the “poet’s eye in a fine frenzy rolling.” Reynolds use to tell an anecdote of goldsmith calculated to abate our notions about the ardor of composition. Calling upon the poet one day, he opened the door without ceremony, and found him engaged in the double occupation of tuning a couplet and teaching a pet dog to sit upon its haunches. At one time he would glance at his desk, and at another shake his finger at the dog to make him retain his position. The last lines on the page were still wet; they form a part of the description of Italy: “By sports like these are all their cares beguiled; The sports of children satisfy the child.” Goldsmith, with his usual good humor, joined in the laugh caused by his whimsical employment, and acknowledged that his boyish sport with the dog suggested the stanza. THE DESERTED VILLAGE. When Dr. Goldsmith published his Deserted Village, he dedicated it to Sir Joshua Reynolds, in the following kind and touching manner. “The only dedication I ever made was to my brother, because I loved him better than most other men; he is since dead. Permit me to inscribe this poem to you.” GOLDSMITH’S “RETALIATION.”