We may doubt whether Boswell gives the true reason for his vexation. He was able to stand a great deal of 'buffeting' at Dr. Johnson's hands; but it was probably necessary for him to feel that the company were good-natured in their merriment. We do not resent that men should laugh _at_ us if they laugh _with_ us at the same time. It was no doubt the contemptuous and half-concealed mirth of strangers which Boswell felt to be unbearable. And if he felt like this we may sympathise with a short period of sulking. 'I was so much hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that I kept away from him for a week; and, perhaps, might have kept away much longer, nay, gone to Scotland without seeing him again, had not we fortunately met and been reconciled. To such unhappy chances are human friendships liable.' The oddest thing of all about Boswell, when we reflect upon the scenes of his humiliation, is his pride. It is not the least unlikely that, as he suggests, if circumstances had not ordained otherwise he would have waited, and waited for a long time, for Johnson to make advances. It was not merely the pride of the worm in the proverb which may be roused at the last. The worm would not consciously go out of his way to incur insulting anger as Boswell did when he arranged the dinner with Wilkes and on many other occasions. Boswell's was a pride which was constantly giving him pain and was capable, when goaded to obstinacy, of going to considerable lengths. At Sir Joshua Reynolds' dinner he must have suffered acutely. Croker tells the story of Boswell's discomfiture as it was told to him at fourth-hand by the Marquess of Wellesley. 'The wits of Queen Anne's reign were talked of, when Boswell exclaimed, "How delightful it must have been to have lived in the society of Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot, Gay, and Bolingbroke! We have no such society in our days." Sir Joshua answered, "I think, Mr. Boswell, you might be satisfied with your great friend's conversation." "Nay, Sir, Mr. Boswell is right," said Johnson, "every man wishes for preferment, and if Boswell had lived in those days, he would have obtained promotion." "How so, Sir?" asked Sir Joshua. "Why, Sir," said Johnson, "he would have had a high place in the Dunciad."' It was a hard blow. How deep was the wound we cannot tell, because we do not know how it was said or how received. It is curious at first sight that Boswell should have been more sulky about this than about many a rough retort recorded in the 'Life.' It is even more remarkable that he should have concealed this story of his humiliation while he told others with perfect frankness. To do so was entirely contrary to his principle and practice. The idea that 'the several people there by no means of the Johnsonian school' should read the story, recall the circumstances and laugh, not good-naturedly but with contempt and malice, must have overcome for once the biographer's 'sacred love of truth.' From these facts, in any case, we may fairly