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conversation as a powerful restraint of all profane discourse and idle discussions of theological questions; and, lastly, it inspired him with that charity without which we are told that all pretensions to religion are vain.-Sir John Hawkins (abridged).

DEAR MADAM,*-This letter will not, I hope, reach you many days before me; in a distress which can be so little relieved, nothing remains for a friend but to come and partake it.

Poor, dear, sweet little boy! When I read the letter this. day to Mrs. Aston, she said, "Such a death is the next to translation." Yet, however I may convince myself of this, the tears are in my eyes; and yet I could not love him as you loved him, nor reckon on him for a future comfort, as you and his father reckoned upon him.

He is gone, and we are going! We could not have enjoyed him long, and shall not long be separated from him. He has probably escaped many such pangs as you are now feeling.

Nothing remains but that with humble confidence we resign ourselves to Almighty goodness, and fall down without irreverent murmurs before the Sovereign distributor of good and evil, with hope that though sorrow endureth for a night, yet joy may come in the morning.

I have known you, madam, too long to think that you want any arguments for submission to the Supreme Will; nor can my consolation have any effect but that of showing that I wish to comfort you. What can be done, you must do for yourself. Remember first that your child is happy; and then that he is safe, not only from the ills of this world, but from those more formidable dangers which extend their mischief to eternity. You have brought into the world a rational being: have seen him happy during the little life

*Written to Mrs. Thrale upon the death of her son.

that has been granted to him, and can have no doubt that he is happy now.

When you have obtained by prayer such tranquillity as nature will admit, force your attention, as you can, upon your accustomed duties and accustomed entertainments. You can do no more for our dear boy, but you must not therefore think less on those whom your attention may make fitter for the place to which he is gone. I am, dearest madam, your most affectionate humble servant,

SAM. JOHNSON.

COURAGE.

LONG before he broached the idea of his Dictionary, or any other work which chiefly contributed to raise and establish his literary reputation, he was much with a bookseller of eminence, who frequently consulted him about manuscripts offered for sale, or books newly published. But whenever Johnson's opinion happened to differ from his, he would stare Johnson full in the face, and remark with much gravity and arrogance, "I wish you could write as well." This Johnson thought was literally telling a professional man that he was an impostor, or that he assumed a character to which he was not equal. He therefore heard the gross imputation once or twice with sullen contempt. One day, however, in the presence of several gentlemen who knew them both, this bookseller very incautiously threw out the same illiberal opinion. Johnson could suppress his indignation no longer. "Sir," said he, "you are not competent to decide a question which you do not understand. If your allegations be true, you have the brutality to insult me with what is not my fault, but my misfortune. If your allegation be not true, your impudent speech only shows how much more detestable a liar is than a brute." The strong, conclusive aspect and ferocity of manner which accompa

nied the utterance of these words, from a poor author to a purse-proud bookseller, made a deep impression in Johnson's favor, and secured him, perhaps, more civility and respect in his subsequent dealings with the trade than any other transaction of his life.-Anonymous (from a volume entitled "Memoirs of the Life and Writings of the late Dr. S. Johnson," London, 1785).

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No man was ever more remarkable for personal courage. He had, indeed, an awful dread of death, or, rather, something after death;" and what rational man, who seriously thinks of quitting all that he has ever known, and going into a new and unknown state of being, can be without that dread? But his fear was from reflection, his courage natural. His fear, in that one instance, was the result of philosophical and religious consideration. He feared death; but he feared nothing else, not even what might occasion death. Many instances of his resolution may be mentioned. One day, at Mr. Beauclerk's house in the country, when two large dogs were fighting, he went up to them, and beat them till they separated. And at another time, when told of the danger there was that a gun might burst if charged with many balls, he put in six or seven and fired it off against a wall. Mr. Langton told me that when they were swimming together near Oxford, he cautioned Dr. Johnson against a pool which was reckoned particularly dangerous; upon which Johnson directly swam into it. He told me himself that one night he was attacked in the street by four men, to whom he would not yield, but kept them all at bay till the watch came up and carried both him and them to the round-house. -Boswell.

As Johnson had now very faint hopes of recovery, and as Mrs. Thrale was no longer devoted to him, it might have been supposed that he would naturally have chosen to remain in the comfortable house of his beloved wife's daugh

ter, and end his life where he began it. But there was in him an animated and lofty spirit; and however complicated diseases might depress ordinary mortals, all who saw him. beheld and acknowledged the invictum animum Catonis. Such was his intellectual ardor even at this time, that he said to one friend, "Sir, I look upon every day to be lost in which I do not make a new acquaintance;" and to another, when talking of his illness, "I will be conquered; I will not capitulate."-Boswell.

Fear was, indeed, a sensation to which Mr. Johnson was an utter stranger, excepting when some sudden apprehensions seized him that he was going to die; and even then he kept all his wits about him, to express the most humble and pathetic petitions to the Almighty; and when the first paralytic stroke took his speech from him, he instantly set about composing a prayer in Latin, at once to deprecate God's mercy, to satisfy himself that his mental powers remained unimpaired, and to keep them in exercise, that they might not. perish by permitted stagnation. When one day he had at my house taken tincture of antimony instead of emetic wine, he was himself the person to direct what to do for him, and managed with as much coolness and deliberation as if he had been prescribing for an indifferent person.-Mrs. Piozzi.

Johnson, with that native fortitude which, amidst all his bodily distress and mental sufferings, never forsook him, asked Dr. Brocklesby, as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he could recover. "Give me," said he, "a direct answer." The doctor having first asked him if he could bear the whole truth, which way soever it might lead, and being answered that he could, declared that, in his opinion, he could not recover without a miracle. "Then," said Johnson, "I will take no more physic, not even my opiates; for I have prayed that I may render up my soul to God unclouded.”—Boswell.

INDEPENDENCE.

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.-Boswell.

Mr. Bateman's lectures were so excellent, that Johnson used to come and get them at second-hand from Taylor, till his poverty being so extreme that his shoes were worn out, and his feet appeared through them, he saw that this humiliating circumstance was perceived by the Christ-church men, and he came no more. He was too proud to accept of money; and somebody having set a pair of new shoes at his door, he threw them away with indignation.†-Boswell.

He took care to guard himself against any possible suspicion that his settled principles of reverence for rank and respect for wealth were at all owing to mean or interested motives; for he asserted his own independence as a literary man. "No man," said he," who ever lived by literature has lived more independently than I have done."-Boswell.

Boswell: "Goldsmith is the better for attacks." Johnson: "Yes, sir; but he does not think so yet. When Gold

*When he was about four years old.

† At Oxford University, where Johnson was a member of Pembroke College. His friend Taylor was a member of Christ-church College.

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