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Samuel JohnsonDr. Samuel Johnson (1709-1784), often referred to simply as Dr. Johnson, was one of England's greatest literary figures.Although best remembered as the compiler of the first comprehensive English dictionary, Dr. Johnson was more than a scholar. Born at Lichfield and educated at Lichfield Grammar School and Pembroke College, Oxford, he moved to London in 1737 with his wife, Tetty, who was twenty years his senior, and began to earn a living as a journalist and critic, whilst working on plays, poetry and biographies. Johnson began A Dictionary of the English Language in 1747, but did not complete it until 1755. It made his name, but not his fortune. Another of his major works, the satire Rasselas (1759), was written specifically to raise money to pay for his mother's funeral. Johnson was at the centre of a literary circle which included such figures as Oliver Goldsmith, Edmund Burke and David Garrick, and founded the Literary Club. In 1763, a young Scottish writer, James Boswell, introduced himself to Johnson. Together they toured the Western Isles of Scotland in 1773, a journey which Johnson immortalised in print. Dr. Johnson's last great work was the ten-volume Lives of the English Poets, published between 1779 and 1781. He died in 1784 and is buried in Westminster Abbey. As well as to his output, Johnson owes his reputation to his biographer, James Boswell, who presents us with a picture of a very pious man of Tory common sense, and kindly heart, beneath a sometimes unkempt and gruff exterior. Another of Johnson's great friends was Hester Thrale, whose diaries and correspondence are a major source of information about him.
External Linkse-texts of some of Dr. Samuel Johnson's works:
on the afternoon of her death may----"
But Poirot's shake of the head was so energetic that I stopped.
"No, my friend.html">friend. I have certain little ideas of my own about that
favour."
I accepted his assurance, though I did not really see.html">see.html">see how he
It is partly your fault that I ever came to suspect her. It was
above suspicion?"
"Oh--ah--yes." He seemed a little confused, but recovered
do for me."
"Certainly. What is it?"
"Next time you happen to be alone with Lawrence Cavendish, I want
He says: "Find the extra coffee-cup, and you can rest in peace!"
right?" I asked, much mystified.
"Excellent."
"But what does it mean?"
"Ah, that I will leave you to find out. You have access to the
to the "Analytical Chemist."
Poirot hopped down.html">down.html">down briskly, and went inside. In a few minutes he
Bauerstein had it tested, and you yourself laughed at the
intensely. I could see neither rhyme nor reason in it. However,
fully restored since his belief in Alfred Inglethorp's innocence
on Monday, as I came down to a late breakfast, John drew me
morning, to take up his quarters at the Stylites Arms until he
continued my honest friend. "It was bad enough before, when we
we all feel guilty for having been so down on the fellow. The
look black against him. I don't see how anyone could blame us
were in the wrong, and now there's a beastly feeling that one
the fellow a bit better than one did before. The whole thing's
himself off. It's a good thing Styles wasn't the mater's to
here. He's welcome to her money."
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