’I am, dear Madam,

’Your most humble servant,

‘SAM.  JOHNSON.’

‘Feb. 4, 1782.’

’To EDMOND MALONE, ESQ.

’SIR,

’I have for many weeks been so much out of order, that I have gone out only in a coach to Mrs. Thrale’s, where I can use all the freedom that sickness requires.  Do not, therefore, take it amiss, that I am not with you and Dr. Farmer.  I hope hereafter to see you often.

’I am, Sir,

’Your most humble servant,

‘SAM.  JOHNSON.’

‘Feb. 27, 1782.’

To THE SAME.

’DEAR SIR,

’I hope I grow better, and shall soon be able to enjoy the kindness of my friends.  I think this wild adherence to Chatterton[447] more unaccountable than the obstinate defence of Ossian.  In Ossian there is a national pride, which may be forgiven, though it cannot be applauded.  In Chatterton there is nothing but the resolution to say again what has once been said.

’I am, Sir,

’Your humble servant,

‘SAM.  JOHNSON.’

‘March 7, 1782.’

These short letters shew the regard which Dr. Johnson entertained for Mr. Malone, who the more he is known is the more highly valued.  It is much to be regretted that Johnson was prevented from sharing the elegant hospitality of that gentleman’s table, at which he would in every respect have been fully gratified.  Mr. Malone, who has so ably succeeded him as an Editor of Shakspeare, has, in his Preface, done great and just honour to Johnson’s memory.

’TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD.

’DEAR MADAM,

’I went away from Lichfield ill, and have had a troublesome time with my breath; for some weeks I have been disordered by a cold, of which I could not get the violence abated, till I had been let blood three times.  I have not, however, been so bad but that I could have written, and am sorry that I neglected it.

’My dwelling is but melancholy; both Williams, and Desmoulins, and myself, are very sickly:  Frank is not well; and poor Levett died in his bed the other day, by a sudden stroke; I suppose not one minute passed between health and death; so uncertain are human things.

’Such is the appearance of the world about me; I hope your scenes are more cheerful.  But whatever befalls us, though it is wise to be serious, it is useless and foolish, and perhaps sinful, to be gloomy.  Let us, therefore, keep ourselves as easy as we can; though the loss of friends will be felt, and poor Levett had been a faithful adherent for thirty years.

’Forgive me, my dear love, the omission of writing; I hope to mend that and my other faults.  Let me have your prayers.

’Make my compliments to Mrs. Cobb, and Miss Adey, and Mr. Pearson, and the whole company of my friends.

I am, my dear,

’Your most humble servant,

‘SAM.  JOHNSON.’

‘London, March 2, 1782.’