IcannotomitacuriouscircumstancewhichoccurredatEdensor-inn，closebyChatsworth，tosurveythemagnificenceofwhichIhadgoneaconsiderablewayoutofmyroadtoScotland。Theinnwasthenkeptbyaveryjollylandlord，whosename，Ithink，wasMalton。Hehappenedtomentionthat’thecelebratedDr。Johnsonhadbeeninhishouse。’IinquiredWHOthisDr。Johnsonwas，thatImighthearminehost’snotionofhim。’Sir，saidhe，Johnson，thegreatwriter；ODDITY，astheycallhim。He’sthegreatestwriterinEngland；hewritesfortheministry；hehasacorrespondenceabroad，andletsthemknowwhat’sgoingon。’
Myfriend，whohadathoroughdependanceupontheauthenticityofmyrelationwithoutanyEMBELLISHMENT，asFALSEHOODorFICTIONistoogentlycalled，laughedagooddealatthisrepresentationofhimself。
OnWednesday，March18，*IarrivedinLondon，andwasinformedbygoodMr。Francisthathismasterwasbetter，andwasgonetoMr。
Thrale’satStreatham，towhichplaceIwrotetohim，beggingtoknowwhenhewouldbeintown。Hewasnotexpectedforsometime；
butnextdayhavingcalledonDr。Taylor，inDean’s-yard，Westminster，Ifoundhimthere，andwastoldhehadcometotownforafewhours。Hemetmewithhisusualkindness，butinstantlyreturnedtothewritingofsomethingonwhichhewasemployedwhenIcamein，andonwhichheseemedmuchintent。Findinghimthusengaged，Imademyvisitveryshort。