done right.  She had lived with him many years in great confidence, and they had mingled minds; I do not think he could have found any wife that would have made him so happy.  The woman was very attentive and civil to me; she pressed me to fix a day for dining with them, and to say what I liked, and she would be sure to get it for me.  Poor Sack!  He is very ill, indeed.  We parted as never to meet again.  It has quite broke me down.’  This pathetic narrative was strangely diversified with the grave and earnest defence of a man’s having married his maid.  I could not but feel it as in some degree ludicrous.

In the morning of Tuesday, June 15, while we sat at Dr. Adams’s, we talked of a printed letter from the Reverend Herbert Croft, to a young gentleman who had been his pupil, in which he advised him to read to the end of whatever books he should begin to read.  Johnson.  ’This is surely a strange advice; you may as well resolve that whatever men you happen to get acquainted with, you are to keep to them for life.  A book may be good for nothing; or there may be only one thing in it worth knowing; are we to read it all through?  These Voyages, (pointing to the three large volumes of Voyages to the South Sea, which were just come out) who will read them through?  A man had better work his way before the mast, than read them through; they will be eaten by rats and mice, before they are read through.  There can be little entertainment in such books; one set of Savages is like another.’  Boswell.  ’I do not think the people of Otaheite can be reckoned Savages.’  Johnson.  ’Don’t cant in defence of Savages.’  Boswell.  ‘They have the art of navigation.’  Johnson.  ’A dog or a cat can swim.’  Boswell.  ‘They carve very ingeniously.’  Johnson.  ’A cat can scratch, and a child with a nail can scratch.’  I perceived this was none of the mollia tempora fandi; so desisted.

Upon his mentioning that when he came to College he wrote his first exercise twice over; but never did so afterwards; miss Adams.  ’I suppose, Sir, you could not make them better?’ Johnson.  ’Yes, Madam, to be sure, I could make them better.  Thought is better than no thought.’  Miss Adams.  ‘Do you think, Sir, you could make your Ramblers better?’ Johnson.  ‘Certainly I could.’  Boswell.  ’I’ll lay a bet, Sir, you cannot.’  Johnson.  ’But I will, Sir, if I choose.  I shall make the best of them you shall pick out, better.’  Boswell.  ’But you may add to them.  I will not allow of that.’  Johnson.  ’Nay, Sir, there are three ways of making them better;—­putting out,—­adding,—­or correcting.’