’I forget whether I told you that Rasay[484] has been here; we dined cheerfully together.  I entertained lately a young gentleman from Corrichatachin[485].

’I received your letters only this morning.  I am, dear Sir,

’Yours &c.

‘SAM.  JOHNSON.’

‘London, Sept. 7, 1782.’

In answer to my next letter, I received one from him, dissuading me from hastening to him as I had proposed[486]; what is proper for publication is the following paragraph, equally just and tender:—­

’One expence, however, I would not have you to spare:  let nothing be omitted that can preserve Mrs. Boswell, though it should be necessary to transplant her for a time into a softer climate.  She is the prop and stay of your life.  How much must your children suffer by losing her.’

My wife was now so much convinced of his sincere friendship for me, and regard for her, that, without any suggestion on my part, she wrote him a very polite and grateful letter:—­

’DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL.

’DEAR LADY,

’I have not often received so much pleasure as from your invitation to Auchinleck.  The journey thither and back is, indeed, too great for the latter part of the year; but if my health were fully recovered, I would suffer no little heat and cold, nor a wet or a rough road to keep me from you.  I am, indeed, not without hope of seeing Auchinleck again; but to make it a pleasant place I must see its lady well, and brisk, and airy.  For my sake, therefore, among many greater reasons, take care, dear Madam, of your health, spare no expence, and want no attendance that can procure ease, or preserve it.  Be very careful to keep your mind quiet; and do not think it too much to give an account of your recovery to, Madam,

’Yours, &c.

‘SAM.  JOHNSON.’

‘London, Sept. 7, 1782.’

’To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

’DEAR SIR,

’Having passed almost this whole year in a succession of disorders, I went in October to Brighthelmston, whither I came in a state of so much weakness, that I rested four times in walking between the inn and the lodging.  By physick and abstinence I grew better, and am now reasonably easy, though at a great distance from health[487].  I am afraid, however, that health begins, after seventy, and long before, to have a meaning different from that which it had at thirty.  But it is culpable to murmur at the established order of the creation, as it is vain to oppose it.  He that lives must grow old; and he that would rather grow old than die, has GOD to thank for the infirmities of old age[488].

’At your long silence I am rather angry.  You do not, since now you are the head of your house, think it worth your while to try whether you or your friend can live longer without writing[489], nor suspect that after so many years of friendship, that when I do not write to you, I forget you.  Put all such useless jealousies out of your head, and disdain to regulate your own practice by the practice of another, or by any other principle than the desire of doing right.