He answered, because it was impossible to keep him at home; for, young
as he was, he believed he had caught the publick spirit and zeal for
Sacheverel, and would have staid for ever in the church, satisfied with
beholding him.'

Nor can I omit a little instance of that jealous independence of
spirit, and impetuosity of temper, which never forsook him. The fact
was acknowledged to me by himself, upon the authority of his mother. One
day, when the servant who used to be sent to school to conduct him
home, had not come in time, he set out by himself, though he was then so
near-sighted, that he was obliged to stoop down on his hands and knees
to take a view of the kennel before he ventured to step over it. His
school-mistress, afraid that he might miss his way, or fall into the
kennel, or be run over by a cart, followed him at some distance. He
happened to turn about and perceive her. Feeling her careful attention
as an insult to his manliness, he ran back to her in a rage, and beat
her, as well as his strength would permit.

Of the power of his memory, for which he was all his life eminent to a
degree almost incredible, the following early instance was told me in
his presence at Lichfield, in 1776, by his step-daughter, Mrs. Lucy
Porter, as related to her by his mother. When he was a child in
petticoats, and had learnt to read, Mrs. Johnson one morning put the
common prayer-book into his hands, pointed to the collect for the day,
and said, 'Sam, you must get this by heart.' She went up stairs, leaving
him to study it: But by the time she had reached the second floor, she
heard him following her. 'What's the matter?' said she. 'I can say it,'
he replied; and repeated it distinctly, though he could not have read it
more than twice.