who has occupied the narrow tower staircase," he adds, "can imagine the noise of Johnson's form tumbling down in hot pursuit. The present balusters must be the same as those he clutched in his headlong descents."
A Literary Landmarker, only the other day, toiling up that narrow staircase to Johnson's rooms, instinctively clutched the balusters, as, with his eyes shut, he fancied he met the ghost of Johnson tumbling down. It is very pathetic to think of Johnson, in 1784, shortly before he died, as paying his last earthly farewell visit to those rooms. He had a strong desire to see them with his earthly eyes once again; but he was so weak, and so feeble, that the porter had to push him up, and to lead him down. There was no headlong descent then, except in an involuntary way. But still the ghost of the impetuous young Sam, and of the infirm old Doctor, haunt the staircase!
Mr. Maclane, in his freshman year, occupied those same apartments for sentimental reasons; and, according to his unimpeachable authority, they are, as we have seen, still virtually as they were when Johnson knew them, although on two occasions they have narrowly escaped destruction by fire. Maclane gave them up in his second undergraduate year, because in the growing twelve-
