one disadvantage arising from the immensity of London, was, that nobody was heeded by his neighbour; there was no fear of censure for not observing Good-Friday, as it ought to be kept, and as it is kept in country-towns. He said, it was, upon the whole, very well observed even in London. He however, owned, that London was too large but added, It is nonsense to say the head is too big for the body. It would be as much too big, though the body were ever so large; that is to say, though the country were ever so extensive. It has no similarity to a head con

nected with a body.

Dr. Wetherell, Master of University College, Oxford, accompanied us home from church; and after he was gone, there came two other gentlemen, one of whom uttered the common-place complaints, that by the increase of taxes, labour would be dear, other nations would undersell us, and our commerce would be ruined. Johnson, (smiling.) Never fear, Sir. Our commerce is in a very good state; and suppose we had no commerce at all, we could live very well on the produce of our country. I cannot omit to mention, that I never knew any man who was less disposed to be querulous than Johnson. Whether the subject was his own situation, or the state of the public, or the state of human nature in general, though he saw the evils, his mind was turned to resolution, and never to whining or complaint.

We went again to St. Clement's in the afternoon. He had found fault with the preacher in the morning for not choosing a text adapted to the day. The preacher in the afternoon had chosen one extremely pro"It is finished."

per:

After the evening service, he said, 'Come, you shall go home with me and sit just an hour.' But he was better than his word; for after we had drank tea with Mrs. Williams, he asked me to go up to his study with him, where we sat a long while together in a serene, undisturbed frame of mind, sometimes in silence, and sometimes conversing, as we felt ourselves inclined, or more properly speaking, as he was inclined; for during all the course of my long intimacy with him, my respectful attention never abated, and my wish to hear him was such, that I constantly watched every dawning of communication from that great and illuminated mind. He observed, All knowledge is of itself of some value. There is nothing so minute or inconsiderable, that I would not rather know it than not. In the same manuer, all power, of whatever sort, is of itself desirable. A man would not submit to learn to hem a ruffle, of his wife, or his wife's maid; but if a mere wish could attain it, he would rather wish to be able to hem a ruffle.'

He again advised me to keep a journal fully and minutely, but not to mention such trifles as, that meat was too much or too little done, or that the weather was fair or rainy. He had, till very near his death, a contempt for the notion that the weather affects the human frame.

I told him that our friend Goldsmith had said to me that he had come too late into the world, for that Pope and other poets had taken up the places in the Temple of Fame; so that as but a few at any period can possess poetical reputation, a man of genius can now hardly acquire it. Johnson. That is one of the most sensible things I ever heard of Goldsmith. It is difficult to get literary fame, and it is every day growing more difficult, Ah, Sir, that should make a man think of securing happiness in another world, which all who try sincerely for it may attain. In comparison of that, how little are all other things! The belief of immor. tality is impressed upon all men, and all men act under an impression of it, however they may talk, and though, perhaps, they may be scarcely sensible of it. I said, it appeared to me that some people had not the least notion of immortality; and I mentioned a distinguished gentleman of our acquaintance. Johnson. Sir, if it were not for the notion of immortality, he would cut a throat to fill his pockets. When I quoted this to Beauclerk, who knew much more of the gentleman than we did, he said, in his acid manner, He would cut a throat to fill his pockets, if it were not for fear of being hanged.

Dr. Johnson proceeded: Sir, there is a great cry about infidelity: but there are, in reality, very few infidels. I have heard a person, originally a Quaker, but now, I am afraid, a Deist, say, "that he did not believe there were, in all England, above two hundred infidels."

He was pleased to say, If you come to settle here, we will have one day in the week on which we will meet by ourselves. That is the hap piest conversation where there is no competition, no vanity, but a calm quiet interchange of sentiments.' In his private register this evening is thus marked, Boswell sat with me till night; we had some serious talk.' It also appears from the same record, that after I left him he was occupied in religious duties, in giving Francis, his servant, some directions for preparation to communicate; in reviewing his life, and resolving on better conduct. The humility and piety which he discovers on such occasions, is truly edifying. No saint, however, in the course of his religious warfare, was more sensible of the unhappy failure of pious resolves, than Johnson. He said one day, talking to an acquaintance on this subject, Sir, Hell is paved with good intentions.'

On Sunday, April 16, being Easter-day, after having attended the solemn service at St. Paul's, I dined with Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Williams. I maintained that Horace was wrong in placing happiness in Nil admirari, for that I thought admiration one of the most agreeable of all our feelings; and I regretted that I had lost much of my disposition to admire, which people generally do as they advance in life, Johnson. Sir, as a man advances in life, he gets what is better than admiration,judgment, to estimate things at their true value. I still insisted that admiration was more pleasing than judgment, as love is more pleasing than friendship. The feeling of friendship is like that of being comfortably filled with roast beef; love, like being enlivened with champagne.

Johnson. No, Sir; admiration and love are like being intoxicated with champagne; judgment and friendship like being enlivened. Waller has hit upon the same thought with you: but I don't believe you have borrowed from Waller. I wish you would enable yourself to borrow more. He then took occasion to enlarge on the advantages of reading, and combated the idle superficial notion, that knowledge enough, may be acquired in conversation. "The foundation (said he) must be laid by reading. General principles must be had from books, which, however, must be brought to the test of real life. In conversation you never get a system. What is said upon a subject is to be gathered from a hundred people. The parts of a truth, which a man gets thus, are at such a distance from each other, that he never attains to a full view.'

TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ.

DEAR SIR,

I have enquired more minutely about the medicine for the rheumatism, which I am sorry to hear that you still want. The recipe is this: Take equal quantities of flour of sulphur, and flour of mustard-seed, make them into an electuary with honey or treacle; and take a bolus as big as a nutmeg several times a day, as you can bear it; drinking after it a quarter of a pint of the infusion of the root of Lovage.

Lovage, in Ray's Nomenclature,' is Levisticum: perhaps the botanists may know the Latin name.

Of this medicine I pretend not to judge. There is all the appearance of its efficacy, which a single instance can afford the patient was very old, the pain very violent, and the relief, I think, speedy and lasting.

My opinion of alterative medicine is not high, but quid tentasse nocebit? if it does þarm, or does no good, it may be omitted; but that it may do good, you have, I hope, reason to think is desired by, Sir, your most affectionate, Humble servant,

April 17, 1775.

SAM. JOHNSON.

On Tuesday, April 11, he and I were engaged to go with Sir Joshua Reynolds to dine with Mr. Cambridge, at his beautiful villa on the banks of the Thames, near Twickenham. Dr. Johnson's tardiness was such, that Sir Joshua, who had an appointment at Richmond, early in the day, was obliged to go by himself on horseback, leaving his coach to Johnson and me. Johnson was in such good spirits, that every thing seemed to please him as we drove along.

Our conversation turned on a variety of subjects. He thought portrait painting an improper employment for a woman. " Public practice of any art, (he observed,) and staring in men's faces, is very indelicate in a

female." I happened to start a question, whether when a man knows that some of his intimate friends are invited to the house of another friend, with whom they are all equally intimate, he may join them without an invitation. Johnson. No, Sir; he is not to go when he is not invited. They may be invited on purpose to abuse him." (smiling.)

As a curious instance how little a man knows, or wishes to know, his own character in the world, or, rather as a convincing proof that Johnson's roughness was only external, and did not proceed from his heart, I insert the following dialogue. Johnson. It is wonderful, Sir, how rare a quality good humour is in life. We meet with a very few good humoured men. I mentioned four of our friends, none of whom he would allow to be good humoured. One was acid, another was muddy, and to the others he had objections which have escaped me. Then, shaking his head and stretching himself at his ease in the coach, and smiling with much complacency, he turned to me and said, I look upon myself as a good humoured fellow. The epithet fellow, applied to the great Lexicographer, the stately Moralist, the masterly Critic, as if he had been Sam Johnson, a mere pleasant companion, was highly diverting; and this light notion of himself struck me with wonder. I answered, also smiling, No, no, Sir; that will not do. You are good natured, but not good humoured: you are irascible. You have not patience with folly and absurdity. I believe you would pardon them, if there were time to deprecate your vengeance; but punishment follows so quick after sentence, that they cannot escape.

I had brought with me a large bundle of Scotch magazines and newspapers, in which his "Journey to the Western Islands" was attacked in every mode; and I read a great part of them to him, knowing they would afford him entertainment. I wish the writers of them had been present: they would have been sufficiently vexed. One ludicrous imitation of his style, by Mr. Maclaurin, now one of the Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord Dreghorn, was distinguished by him from the rude mass. This (said he,) is the best. But I could caricature my own style much better myself. He defended his remark upon the general insufficiency of education in Scotland; and confirmed to me the authenticity of his witty saying on the learning of the Scotch;-Their learning is like bread in a besieged town: every man gets a little, but no man gets a full meal. There is (said he,) in Scotland a diffusion of learning, a certain portion of it widely and thinly spread. A merchant has as much learning as one of their clergy.

He talked of Isaac Walton's Lives, which was one of his most favourite books. Dr. Donne's Life, he said, was the most perfect of them. He observed, that it was wonderful that Walton, who was in a very low situation in life, should have been familiarly received by so many great men, and that at a time when the ranks of society were kept more separate than they are now. He supposed that Walton had then given up bis business as a linen-draper and sempster, and was only an author; and No. 6.

3 H

added, that he was a great panegyrist. Boswell. No quality will get a man more friends than a disposition to admire the qualities of others. I do not mean flattery, but a sincere admiration. Johnson. Nay, Sir, flattery pleases very generally. In the first place, the flatterer may think what he says to be true: but, in the second place, whether he thinks so or not, be certainly thinks those whom he flatters of consequence enough to be flattered.

No sooner had we made our bow to Mr. Cambridge, in his library, than Johnson ran eagerly to one side of the room, intent on poring over the backs of the books. Sir Joshua observed, (aside,) He runs to the books as I do to the pictures; but I have the advantage. I can see much more of the pictures than he can of the books. Mr. Cambridge, upon this, politely said, Dr. Johnson, I am going, with your pardon, to accuse myself, for I have the same custom which I perceive you have. But it seems odd that one should have such a desire to look at the backs of books. Johnson, ever ready for contest, instantly started from his reverie, wheeled about and answered, Sir, the reason is very plain; knowledge is of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it. When we enquire into any subject; the first thing we have to do is to know what books have treated of it. This leads us to look at catalogues, and the backs of books in libraries. Sir Joshua observed to me the extraordinary promptitude with which Johnson flew upon an argument. Yes, (said I), he has no formal preparation, no flourishing with his sword; he is through your body in an instant.

Johnson was here solaced with an elegant entertainment, a very accomplished family, aud much good company; among whom was Mr. Harris of Salisbury, who paid him many compliments on his Journey to the Western Islands.'

The common remark as to the utility of reading history being made; -Johnson. We must consider how very little history there is; I mean real authentic history. That certain kings reigned, and certain battles were fought, we can depend upon as true; but all the colouring, all the philosophy of history is conjecture. Boswell. Then, Sir, you would reduce all history to uo better than an almanack, a mere chronological series of remarkable events. Mr. Gibbon, who must at that time have been employed upon his history, of which he published the first volume in the following year, was present: but did not step forth in defence of that species of writing. He probably did not like to trust himself with Johnson.

Johnson observed, that the force of our early habits was so great, that though reason approved, nay, though our senses relished a different course, almost every man returned to them. I do not believe there is any observation upon human nature better founded than this; and in many cases, it is a very painful truth; for where early habits have been mean and wretched, the joy and elevation resulting from better modes of