He
knew me, and asked if I remembered one Edwards; I did not at first
recollect the name, but gradually as we walked along, recovered it, and
told him a conversation that had passed at an alehouse between us. My
purpose is to continue our acquaintance[887].'
It was in Butcher-row that this meeting happened. Mr. Edwards, who was a
decent-looking elderly man in grey clothes, and a wig of many curls,
accosted Johnson with familiar confidence, knowing who he was, while
Johnson returned his salutation with a courteous formality, as to a
stranger. But as soon as Edwards had brought to his recollection their
having been at Pembroke-College together nine-and-forty years ago, he
seemed much pleased, asked where he lived, and said he should be glad to
see him in Bolt-court. EDWARDS. 'Ah, Sir! we are old men now[888].'
JOHNSON, (who never liked to think of being old[889]:) 'Don't let us
discourage one another.' EDWARDS. 'Why, Doctor, you look stout and
hearty, I am happy to see you so; for the newspapers told us you were
very ill[890].' JOHNSON, 'Ay, Sir, they are always telling lies of _us old
fellows_.'
Wishing to be present at more of so singular a conversation as that
between two fellow-collegians, who had lived forty years in London
without ever having chanced to meet, I whispered to Mr.
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