I made a visit to poor Dr. Johnson, to inquire after his health. I found him better, but extremely far from well. One thing, however, gave me infinite satisfaction. He was so good as to ask me after Charles, and said, "I shall be glad to see him: pray tell him to call upon me." I thanked him very much, and said how proud he would be of such a permission. "I should be glad," said he, still more kindly, "to see him, if he were not your brother; but were he a dog, a cat, a rat, a frog, and belonged to you, I must needs be glad to see him."-Madame D'Arblay.

Sentiment and Dr. Johnson seem to be incongruous ideas, yet the rugged old man was at times very sentimental, occasionally in a rather comical way. His friend, Dr. Nugent, was very fond of omelet, and he and Johnson often feasted together upon that dish at the club. Mrs. Piozzi tells us that "Johnson felt very painful sensations at the sight of that dish, soon after Nugent's death, and cried, 'Ah, my poor, dear friend, I shall never eat omelet with thee again!' quite in an agony."

Mrs. Thrale's marriage with Piozzi was the cause of sore displeasure and reproach; it raised a tumult against her which now seems irrational and impertinent. Johnson shared in the general feeling about the match, and in one of his letters to her, endeavoring to dissuade her from the step, he indulged himself in the following effusion: "When Queen Mary took the resolution of sheltering herself in England, the Archbishop of St. Andrews, attempting to dissuade her, attended her on her journey; and when they came to the irremeable stream that separated the two kingdoms, walked by her side into the water, in the middle of which he seized her bridle, and with earnestness proportioned to her danger and his own affection besought her to return. The Queen went forward- If the parallel reaches thus far, may it go no farther. The tears stand in my

eyes."

On the occasion of his leaving Streatham, which had for many years been a pleasant refuge for him, he notes in his journal: "I was called early. I packed up my bundles, and used the foregoing prayer" (which, besides being irrelevant, is somewhat long for quotation), "with my morning devotions somewhat, I think, enlarged. Being earlier than the family, I read St. Paul's farewell in the Acts, and then read fortuitously in the Gospels, which was my parting use of the library." In one of his memorandum-books he made this note of his last Sunday at Streatham: "Went to church at Streatham. Templo valedixi cum osculo!" But our sympathy and pensive enjoyment are somewhat disturbed, when we find that, upon this same Sunday, he made yet another Latin entry in his memorandum-book, an entry which Mr. Hayward, the editor of Mrs. Thrale's autobiography, thus translates: "I dined at Streatham on boiled leg of lamb, with spinach, the stuffing of flour and raisins, round of beef, and turkey poult; and after the meat service, figs, grapes, not yet ripe in consequence of the bad season, with peaches, also hard. I took my place at the table in no joyful mood, and partook of the food moderately, lest I should finish by intemperance. If I rightly remember, the banquet at the funeral of Hadon came into my mind. When shall I revisit Streatham ?"-Editor.

ANTI-SENTIMENTALITY.

Johnson: "No, sir; violent pain of mind, like violent pain. of body, must be severely felt." Boswell: "I own, sir, I have not so much feeling for the distress of others as some people have, or pretend to have; but I know this, that I would do all in my power to relieve them." Johnson: "Sir, it is affectation to pretend to feel the distress of others as much as they do themselves. It is equally so, as if one should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's leg is

cutting off, as he does. No, sir; you have expressed the rational and just nature of sympathy."-Boswell.

Talking of our feeling for the distresses of others, Johnson: "Why, sir, there is much noise made about it, but it is greatly exaggerated. No, sir; we have a certain degree of feeling to prompt us to do good; more than that Providence does not intend. It would be misery to no purpose." Boswell: "But suppose now, sir, that one of your intimate friends were apprehended for an offence for which he might be hanged." Johnson: "I should do what I could to bail him, and give him any other assistance; but if he were once fairly hanged, I should not suffer." Boswell: "Would you eat your dinner that day, sir?" Johnson: "Yes, sir, and eat it as if he were eating with me. Why, there's Baretti, who is to be tried for his life to-morrow. Friends have

risen up for him on every side; yet, if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice of plum-pudding the less. Sir, that sympathetic feeling goes a very little way in depressing the mind."

I told him that I had dined lately at Foote's, who showed me a letter which he had received from Tom Davies, telling him that he had not been able to sleep, from the concern he felt on account of "this sad affair of Baretti," begging of him to try if he could suggest anything that might be of service; and, at the same time, recommending to him an industrious young man who kept a pickle shop. Johnson: "Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathya friend hanged, and a cucumber pickled. We know not whether Baretti or the pickle-man has kept Davies from sleep, nor does he know himself. And as to his not sleeping, sir, Tom Davies is a very great man; Tom has been upon the stage, and knows how to do those things: I have not been upon the stage, and cannot do those things." Boswell: "I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as sensibly as many say they do." Johnson: "Sir,

don't be duped by them any more.

You will find these very feeling people are not very ready to do you good. They pay you by feeling."-Boswell.

In the evening our gentleman-farmer and two others entertained themselves and the company with a great number of tunes on the fiddle. Johnson desired to have "Let ambition fire thy mind," played over again, and appeared to give a patient attention to it; though he owned to me that he was very insensible to the power of music. I told him that it affected me to such a degree as often to agitate my nerves painfully, producing in my mind alternate sensations of pathetic dejection, so that I was ready to shed tears; and of daring resolution, so that I was inclined to rush into the thickest part of the battle. "Sir," said he, "I should never hear it, if it made me such a fool."-Boswell.

I repeated to him an argument of a lady of my acquaintance, who maintained that her husband's having been guilty of numberless infidelities, released her from conjugal obligations, because they were reciprocal. Johnson: "This is miserable stuff, sir. To the contract of marriage, besides the man and wife, there is a third party-society; and, if it be considered as a vow-GOD: and therefore it cannot be dissolved by their consent alone. Laws are not made for particular cases, but for men in general. A woman may be unhappy with her husband; but she cannot be freed from him without the approbation of the civil and ecclesiastical power. A man may be unhappy, because he is not so rich as another; but he is not to seize upon another's property with his own hand." Boswell: "But, sir, this lady does not want that the contract should be dissolved; she only argues that she may indulge herself in gallantries, with equal freedom as her husband does, provided she takes care not to introduce a spurious issue into his family. You know, sir, what Macrobius has told of Julia." John

son: "This lady of yours, sir, I think, is very fit for a brothel."-Boswell.

On Friday, May 7th, I breakfasted with him at Mr. Thrale's, in the Borough. While we were alone, I endeavored as well as I could to apologize for a lady who had been divorced. from her husband by Act of Parliament. I said that he had used her very ill, had behaved brutally to her, and that she could not continue to live with him without having her delicacy contaminated; that all affection for him was thus destroyed; that, the essence of conjugal union being gone, there remained only a cold form, a mere civil obligation; that she was in the prime of life, with qualities to produce happiness; that these ought not to be lost; and that the gentleman on whose account she was divorced had gained her heart while thus unhappily situated. Seduced, perhaps, by the charms of the lady in question, I thus attempted. to palliate what I was sensible could not be justified; for when I had finished my harangue, my venerable friend gave me a proper check: "My dear sir, never accustom your mind to mingle virtue and vice. The woman's a whore, and there's an end on't."—Boswell.

I have no minute of any interview with Johnson till Thursday, May 15th, when I find what follows. Boswell: "I wish much to be in Parliament, sir." Johnson: "Why, sir, unless you come resolved to support any administration, you would be the worse for being in Parliament, because you would be obliged to live more expensively." Boswell: 'Perhaps, sir, I should be the less happy for being in Parliament. I never would sell my vote, and I should be vexed if things went wrong." Johnson: "That's cant, sir. It would not vex you more in the House than in the gallery: public affairs vex no man." Boswell: "Have not they vexed yourself a little, sir? Have not you been vexed by all the turbulence of this reign, and by that absurd vote of the