When our learned Oxonian, Dr. Johnson, was on his tour in the
Hebrides, accompanied by Bozzy, as Peter Pindar has it, says an
American writer, they had one day travelled so far without
refreshment, that the Doctor began to _growl_ in his best manner. Upon
this Bozzy hastened to a cottage at a distance, ordered a dinner, and
was lucky in obtaining the choice of a roast leg of mutton and the
Doctor's favourite plum-pudding. Upon reaching the house, the appetite
of the latter drove him into the kitchen to inspect progress, where he
saw a boy basting the meat, from whose head he conceited he saw
_something_ descend, by the force of _gravity_, into the dripping-pan.
The meat was at length served up, and Bozzy attacked it with great
glee, exclaiming, "My dear Doctor, do let me help you to some,--brown
as a berry,--done to a turn." The Doctor said he would wait for the
pudding, chuckling with equal glee, whilst Bozzy nearly devoured the
whole joint. The pudding at length came, done to a turn too, which the
Doctor in his turn greedily devoured, without so much as asking Bozzy
to a bit. After he had wiped his mouth, and begun to compose himself,
Bozzy entreated to know what he was giggling about whilst he eat the
mutton? The Doctor clapped his hands to both sides for support, as he
told him what he saw in the kitchen. Bozzy thereupon begun to exhibit
sundry qualms and queer faces, and calling in the boy, exclaimed, "You
rascal, why did you not cover your dirty head with your cap when
basting the meat?" "'Cause mother took it to boil the pudding in!"
said the urchin. The tables were turned. The Doctor stared aghast,
stamped, and literally roared, with a voice of thunder, that if Bozzy
ever named the circumstance to any one, it should bring down upon him
his eternal displeasure! The following, not very dissimilar anecdote,
is told of a Cantab, who was once out hunting till his appetite became
as keen as the Doctor's, and, like his, drove him to the nearest
cottage. The good dame spread before him and his friend the contents
of her larder, which she described as "a _meat_ pie, made of odds and
ends, the remnant of their own frugal meal." "Any thing is better than
nothing," cried the half famished Cantab, "so let us have it--ha,
Bob." Bob, who was another Cantab, his companion, nodded assent. No
sooner was the savoury morsel placed before him, than he commenced
operations, and greedily swallowed mouthful after mouthful,
exclaiming, "Charming! I never tasted a more delicious morsel in my
life! But what have we here?" said he, as he sucked something he held
in both hands; "_Fish_, as well as flesh, my good woman?" "Fish!"
cried the old dame, as she turned from her washing to eye our
sportsman, "why, Lord bless ye, i' that bean't our Billy's _comb_!"
The effect was not a little ludicrous on our hungry Cantab, whilst
Bob's "Haw! haw! haw!" might have been heard from the Thames Tunnel to
Nootka Sound.
* * * * *