a lie to a sick man, for fear of alarming him. (1) You have no business with consequences; you are to tell the truth. Besides, you are not sure what effect your telling him that he is in danger may have. It may bring his distemper to a crisis, and that may cure him. Of all lying, I have the greatest abhorrence of this, because I believe it has been frequently practised on myself." I cannot help thinking that there is much weight in the opinion of those who have held that truth, as an eternal and immutable principle, ought upon no account whatever to be violated, from supposed previous or superior obligations, of which every man being to judge for himself, there is great danger that we too often, from partial motives, persuade ourselves that they exist; and probably whatever extraordinary instances may sometimes occur, where some evil may be prevented by violating this noble principle, it would be found that human happiness would, upon the whole, be more perfect were truth universally preserved. (1) Of this opinion was Archbishop Secker: "Plausible as He plea of concealment, in the case of sickness, may appear, the need and the benefit of employing falsehood even in these circumstances, for the most part at least, cometh of evil." (Sermons, vol. v. 153.) Still, this eminent prelate admits that on such occasions there are sometimes difficulties, but that if the truth be departed from, it should be "almost extorted, and conscientiously restrained to things in themselves the least exceptionable." What is the course which ought to be pursued, whether in withholding or making a patient acquainted with the probable issue of a malady manifesting mortal symptoms, has been laid down by a very distinguished physician of the present day, in terms which do honour to his piety, his judgment, and his feelings. See Sir Henry Halford's Essays, p. 79. -- MARE LAND. In the notes to the "Dunciad," we find the fol owing verses addressed to Pope (1): "While malice, Pope, denies thy page While critics, and while bards in rage, "While wayward pens thy worth assail, These times, though many a friend bewail, "But when the world's loud praise is thine, "When none shall rail, and every lay That day (for come it will) that day Shall I lament to see." It is surely not a little remarkable that they should appear without a name. Miss Seward, knowing Dr. Johnson's almost universal and minute literary information, signified a desire that I should ask him who was the author. He was prompt with his an swer: Why, Sir, they were written by one Lewis, who was either under-master or an usher of Westminster-school, and published a Miscellany, in which 'Grongar Hill' first came out." (2) Johnson (1) The annotator calls them "amiable verses.” — B. — The annotator was Pope himself. - C. (2) Lewis's verses addressed to Pope (as Mr. Bindley suggests to me) were first published in a collection of Pieces in verse and prose on occasion of "The Dunciad," 8vo. 1732. They are there called an Epigram. Lewis was author of Philip of Macedon," a tragedy, published in 1727, and dedicated to Pope and in 1730 he published a second volume of miscellaneous poems. As Dr. Johnson settled in London not one praised them highly, and repeated them with a noble animation. In the twelfth line, instead of " established fame," he repeated 66 one unclouded flame," which he thought was the reading in former editions; but I believe was a flash of his own genius. It is much more poetical than the other. On Monday, 14th June, and Tuesday, 15th, Dr. Johnson and I dined, on one of them, I forget which, with Mr. Mickle, translator of the " "Lusiad," at Wheatley, a very pretty country place a few miles from Oxford; and on the other with Dr. Wetherell, Master of University College. From Dr. Wetherell's he went to visit Mr. Sackville Parker, the bookseller; and when he returned to us gave the following account of his visit, saying "I have been to see my old friend, Sack, Parker, ong after the verses addressed to Pope first appeared, he pro bably then obtained some information concerning their author, David Lewis, whom he has described as an usher of Westminster-school: yet the Dean of Westminster, who has been pleased to make some inquiry on this subject, has not found any vestige of his having ever been employed in this situation. Á late writer ("Environs of London," iv. 171.) supposed that the following inscription in the churchyard of the church of Low Leyton, in Essex, was intended to commemorate this poet: "Sacred to the memory of David Lewis, Esq., who died the 8th day of April, 1760, aged 77 years; a great favourite of the Muses, as his many excellent pieces in poetry sufficiently testify. Inspired verse may on this marble live, But can no honour to thy ashes give.'”. But it appears to me improbable that this monument was erected for the author of the verses to Pope, and of the tragedy already mentioned: the language both of the dedication prefixed to that piece, and of the dedication addressed to the Earl of Shaftsbury, and prefixed to the Miscellanies, 1730, denoting a person who moved in a lower sphere than this Essex squire seems to have done. - M. I find he has married his maid; he has 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. (1) We parted as never to meet again. It has quite broken 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, 15th of June, 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' (2) which were just come out) who will read them through? A man had better work his way (1) He died at Oxford in his eighty-ninth year, Dec. 10. 1796.-M. before the mast than read them though; 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 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 colege 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." During our visit at Oxford, the following conversation passed between him and me on the subject of my trying my fortune at the English bar. Having asked whether a very extensive acquaintance in London, which was very valuable, and of great ad |