“Mr. Boswell. Yes, I hope you will look into this matter should you ever visit your country again--a remote possibility, from all that I can learn of your countrymen.” “Why, sir, since Mr. Home wrote his tragedy of 'Douglas'----” began Boswell, but he was interrupted by the stranger. “What, you would condone his offence?” he cried. “The fact of your having a mind to do so shows that the clergy of your country are still sadly lax in their duty, sir. They should have taught you better.” “And this is Dr. Johnson, sir,” said Goldsmith in tones of triumph. His relation sprang from his seat and advanced to the head of the table, bowing profoundly. “Dr. Johnson,” he cried, “I have long desired to meet you, sir.” “I am your servant, Mr. Dean,” said Johnson, towering above him as he got--somewhat awkwardly--upon his feet. “No gentleman of your cloth, sir--leaving aside for the moment all consideration of the eminence in the church to which you have attained--fails to obtain my respect.” “I am glad of that, sir,” said the Dean. “It shows that you, though a Non-conformist preacher, and, as I understand, abounding in zeal on behalf of the cause of which you are so able an advocate, are not disposed to relinquish the example of the great Wesley in his admiration for the church.” “Sir,” said Johnson, with great dignity, but with a scowl upon his face. “Sir, you are the victim of an error as gross as it is unaccountable. I am not a Non-conformist--on the contrary, I would give the rogues no quarter.” “Sir,” said the clergyman, with the air of one administering a rebuke to a subordinate. “Sir, such intoleration is unworthy of an enlightened country and an age of some culture. But I ask your pardon; finding you in the company of distinguished gentlemen, I was, led to believe that you were the great Dr. Johnson, the champion of the rights of conscience. I regret that I was mistaken.” “Sir!” cried Goldsmith, in great consternation--for Johnson was rendered speechless through being placed in the position of the rebuked, instead of occupying his accustomed place as the rebuker. “Sir, this is the great Dr. Johnson--nay, there is no Dr. Johnson but one.” “'Tis so like your good nature, Cousin Oliver, to take the side of the weak,” said the clergyman, smiling. “Well, well, we will take the honest gentleman's greatness for granted; and, indeed, he is great in one sense: he is large enough to outweigh you and me put together in one scale. To such greatness we would do well to bow.” “Heavens, sir!” said Boswell in a whisper that had something of awe in it. “Is it possible that you have never heard of Dr. Samuel Johnson?”