intervention.  My last letter told you of my advance in health, which, I think, in the whole still continues.  Of the hydropick tumour there is now very little appearance; the asthma is much less troublesome, and seems to remit something day after day.  I do not despair of supporting an English winter.  At Chatsworth, I met young Mr. Burke, who led me very commodiously into conversation with the Duke and Duchess.  We had a very good morning.  The dinner was publick[1133].’

Sept. 18.  ’I flattered myself that this week would have given me a letter from you, but none has come.  Write to me now and then, but direct your next to Lichfield.  I think, and I hope, am sure, that I still grow better; I have sometimes good nights; but am still in my legs weak, but so much mended, that I go to Lichfield in hope of being able to pay my visits on foot, for there are no coaches.  I have three letters this day, all about the balloon, I could have been content with one.  Do not write about the balloon, whatever else you may think proper to say[1134].’

October 2.  ’I am always proud of your approbation, and therefore was much pleased that you liked my letter.  When you copied it[1135], you invaded the Chancellor’s right rather than mine.  The refusal I did not expect, but I had never thought much about it, for I doubted whether the Chancellor had so much tenderness for me as to ask.  He, being keeper of the King’s conscience, ought not to be supposed capable of an improper petition.  All is not gold that glitters, as we have often been told; and the adage is verified in your place[1136] and my favour; but if what happens does not make us richer, we must bid it welcome, if it makes us wiser.  I do not at present grow better, nor much worse; my hopes, however, are somewhat abated, and a very great loss is the loss of hope, but I struggle on as I can.’

TO MR. JOHN NICHOLS:—­

Lichfield, Oct. 20.  ’When you were here, you were pleased, as I am told, to think my absence an inconvenience.  I should certainly have been very glad to give so skilful a lover of antiquities any information about my native place, of which, however, I know not much, and have reason to believe that not much is known.  Though I have not given you any amusement, I have received amusement from you.  At Ashbourne, where I had very little company, I had the luck to borrow Mr. Bowyer’s Life[1137]; a book so full of contemporary history, that a literary man must find some of his old friends.  I thought that I could, now and then, have told you some hints[1138] worth your notice; and perhaps we may talk a life over.  I hope we shall be much together; you must now be to me what you were before, and what dear Mr. Allen was, besides.  He was taken unexpectedly away, but I think he was a very good man.  I have made little progress in recovery.  I am very weak, and very sleepless; but I live on and hope[1139].’

This various mass of correspondence, which I have thus brought together, is valuable, both as an addition to the store which the publick already has of Johnson’s writings, and as exhibiting a genuine and noble specimen of vigour and vivacity of mind, which neither age nor sickness could impair or diminish.