and improvement. Life, to be worthy of a rational being, must be always in progression; we must always purpose to do more or better than in time past. The mind is enlarged and elevated by mere purposes, though they end as they begin, by airy contemplation. We compare and judge, though we do not practise.

She will go back to her arithmetic again: a science which will always delight her more, as by advancing further she discerns more of its use; and a science suited to Sophy's ease of mind, for you told me, last winter, that she loved metaphysics more than romances. choice is certainly as laudable as it is uncommon. God bless you and your children! so says, dear madam, your old friend,

Her

Samuel Johnson.

LETTER XXVIII.

To Mrs. Thrale.

London, Dec. 27, 1783.

Dear madam,

The time of the year, for I hope the fault is rather in the weather than in me, has been very hard upon me. The muscles of my breast are much convulsed. Dr. Heberden recommends opiates, of which I have such horror that I do not think of them but in extremes. I was however driven to them last night for refuge. Having taken the usual quantity, I durst not go to bed, for fear of that uneasiness to which a supine posture exposes me: but I rested all night in a chair, with much relief; and I have been to-day more warm, active, and cheerful.

You have more than once wondered at my complaint of solitude, when you hear that I am crowded with visits. Visiters are no proper companions in the cham

ber of sickness. They come when I could sleep or read ; they stay till I am weary; they force me to attend when my mind calls for relaxation, and to speak when my powers will hardly actuate my tongue. The amusements and consolations of languor and depression, are conferred by familiar and domestic companions; who can be visited or called at will, and can occasionally be quitted or dismissed; who do not obstruct accommodation by ceremony, or destroy indolence by awakening effort. Such society I had with Levet and Williams; such I had where I am never likely to have it more.

I wish, dear lady, to you and your dear girls many a cheerful and pious Christmas.

I am your &c.

Dear sir,

Samuel Johnson.

LETTER XXIX.

To the rev. Dr. Taylor.

London, April 12, 1784.

What can be the reason that I do not hear from you? I hope nothing disables you from writing. Do not omit giving me the comfort of knowing, that, after all my losses, I have yet a friend left.

My life is very solitary, and very cheerless. Though it has pleased God wonderfully to deliver me from the dropsy, I am still very weak; and I have not passed the door since the thirteenth of December. I hope for some help from warm weather, which will surely come in time. I could not have the consent of the physicians to go to church yesterday; I therefore received the holy sacrament at home, in the room where I communicated with dear Mrs. Williams, a little before her death.

It is vain to look round for that help which cannot be

had. Yet we hope and hope, and fancy that he who has lived to-day may live to-morrow. But let us learn to derive our hope only from God.

In the mean time, let us be kind to one another. I have no friend now living, but you and Mr. Hector, that was the friend of my youth. Do not neglect, dear sir,

Yours affectionately,

Samuel Johnson.

CHAPTER XIII.

LETTERS OF MR. COWPER.

Dear Joe,

LETTER I.

To Joseph Hill, Esq.

Huntingdon, June 24, 1765.

The only recompense I can make you for your kind attention to my affairs, during my illness, is to tell you, that, by the mercy of God, I am restored to perfect health, both of mind and body. This, I believe, will give you pleasure; and I would gladly do any thing from which you could receive it.

I left St Alban's on the seventeenth, and arrived that day at Cambridge; spent some time there with my brother; and came hither on the twenty second. I have a lodging that puts me continually in mind of our summer excursions; we have had many worse, and except the size of it, (which however is sufficient for a single man,) but few better. I am not quite alone, having brought a servant with me from St. Alban's; who is the very mirror of fidelity and affection for his master. The Turkish Spy says, he kept no servant because he would not have an enemy in his house; I hired mine, because I would have a friend. Men do. not usually bestow these encomiums on their laekeys; nor do they usually deserve them but I have had experience of mine, both in sickness and in health; and I never saw his fellow.

The river Ouse, (I forget how they spell it,) is the most agreeable circumstance in this part of the world. At this town, it is, I believe, as wide as the Thames at Windsor: nor does the silver Thames. better deserve

that epithet, nor has it more flowers upon its banks; these being attributes which, in strict truth, belong to neither. There is salmon in both. The Ouse is a noble stream to bathe in; and I shall make that use of it three times a week, having introduced myself to it, for the first time, this morning.

I beg you will remember me to all my friends; which is a task that will cost you no great pains to execute. Particularly remember me to those of your own house; and believe me your very affectionate

LETTER II.

William Cowper.

To lady Hesketh.

My dear Lady Hesketh,

Huntingdon, July 1, 1765.

Since the visit you were so

kind as to pay me in the Temple, (the only time I ever saw you without pleasure,) what have I not suffered! And since it has pleased God to restore me to the use of my reason, what have I not enjoyed! You know by experience, how pleasant it is to feel the first approaches of health after a fever; but, oh the fever of the brain! to feel the quenching of that fire, is indeed a blessing which I think it is impossible to receive without the most consummate gratitude. Terrible as this chastisement has been, I acknowledge in it the hand of an infinite Justice; nor is it at all more difficult for me to perceive in it the hand of an infinite Mercy likewise, when I consider the effect it has had upon me. I am exceedingly thankful for it; and, without hypocrisy, esteem it the greatest blessing, next to life itself, which I ever received from the Divine bounty. I pray God that I may always retain this sense of it; and then I am sure I shall continue to be as I am at present, really happy.