learning that there was so near him a land peopled by a race
which was still as rude and simple as in the middle ages. A wish
to become intimately acquainted with a state of society so
utterly unlike all that he had ever seen frequently crossed his
mind. But it is not probable that his curiosity would have
overcome his habitual sluggishness, and his love of the smoke,
the mud, and the cries of London, had not Boswell importuned him
to attempt the adventure, and offered to be his squire. At
length, in August 1773, Johnson crossed the Highland line, and
plunged courageously into what was then considered, by most
Englishmen, as a dreary and perilous wilderness. After wandering
about two months through the Celtic region, sometimes in rude
boats which did not protect him from the rain, and sometimes on
small shaggy ponies which could hardly bear his weight, he
returned to his old haunts with a mind full of new images and new
theories. During the following year he employed himself in
recording his adventures. About the beginning of 1775, his
Journey to the Hebrides was published, and was, during some
weeks, the chief subject of conversation in all circles in which
any attention was paid to literature. The book is still read
with pleasure. The narrative is entertaining; the speculations,
whether sound or unsound, are always ingenious; and the style,
though too stiff and pompous, is somewhat easier and more
graceful than that of his early writings. His prejudice against
the Scotch had at length become little more than matter of jest;
and whatever remained of the old feeling had been effectually
removed by the kind and respectful hospitality with which he had
been received in every part of Scotland. It was, of course, not
to be expected that an Oxonian Tory should praise the
Presbyterian polity and ritual, or that an eye accustomed to the