quantities which he drank at all hours were so great, that his nerves must have been uncommonly strong not to have been extremely relaxed by such an intemperate use of it; but he assured me he never felt the least inconvenience from it." Johnson's indulgence did not escape the notice of Jonas Hanway, who was so alarmed for the safety of the nation that he wrote an essay on "Tea and its Pernicious Consequences," pronouncing it the ruin of the nation, and of every one who drank it. Johnson replied to the attack, and described himself as a "hardened and shameless tea-drinker, whose kettle has scarcely time to cool; who with tea amuses the evening, with tea solaces the midnight, and with tea welcomes the morning." Johnson's defence did not, however, silence, his critics. Sir John Hawkins characterized tea-drinking as unmanly, and, like John Wesley, almost gave it the colour of a crime. The worthy lexicographer, it must be confessed, was a thirsty soul, for his teapot held at least two quarts. But Mr. Philip Gilbert Hamerton writes of a clergyman whose tea-drinking indulgences exceeded those of Johnson. This self-denying Christian, who "from the most conscientious motives denied himself ale and wine, found a fountain of consolation in the teapot. His usual allowance was sixteen cups, all of heroic strength, and the effect upon his brain seems to have been altogether favourable, for his sermons were both long and eloquent." Dr. Gordon Stables offered prizes for original anecdotes about this delightful and healthful beverage, but he laments that he obtained none worthy of printer's ink, and has come to the conclusion that tea is not the drink of his beloved country; that, had he offered prizes for anecdotes about whisky-drinking, "Scotia, my auld, respected mither, would have shown out in a different light." No doubt; Scotland has long been famous for rigid orthodoxy, combined with a love of whisky; but Mr. Stables must have forgotten the delightful tea-story told by Barry Cornwall about George Dyer. Dyer seems to have been as absent-minded as Bowles,[2] the poet. Barry Cornwall says,--