to aid either his sister or his kinsman in their trouble. I never
asked him, thank Heaven, to assist me in my own; though, to do him
justice, no man could express himself more amiably, and with a joy which
I believe was quite genuine, when my days of poverty were ended.

As for my Uncle Warrington, and his virtuous wife and daughters, let
me do them justice likewise, and declare that throughout my period of
trial, their sorrow at my poverty was consistent and unvarying. I still
had a few acquaintances who saw them, and of course (as friends will)
brought me a report of their opinions and conversation; and I never
could hear that my relatives had uttered one single good word about me
or my wife. They spoke even of my tragedy as a crime--I was accustomed
to hear that sufficiently maligned--of the author as a miserable
reprobate, for ever reeling about Grub Street, in rags and squalor. They
held me out no hand of help. My poor wife might cry in her pain,
but they had no twopence to bestow upon her. They went to church a
half-dozen times in the week. They subscribed to many public charities.
Their tribe was known eighteen hundred years ago, and will flourish as
long as men endure. They will still thank Heaven that they are not as
other folks are; and leave the wounded and miserable to other succour.

I don't care to recall the dreadful doubts and anxieties which began to
beset me; the plan after plan which I tried, and in which I failed, for
procuring work and adding to our dwindling stock of money. I bethought
me of my friend Mr. Johnson, and when I think of the eager kindness with
which he received me, am ashamed of some pert speeches which I own
to have made regarding his manners and behaviour. I told my story and
difficulties to him, the circumstance of my marriage, and the prospects
before me. He would not for a moment admit they were gloomy, or, si male
nunc, that they would continue to be so. I had before me the chances,
certainly very slender, of a place in England; the inheritance which
must be mine in the course of nature, or at any rate would fall to the
heir I was expecting. I had a small stock of money for present actual
necessity--a possibility, "though, to be free with you, sir" (says
he), "after the performance of your tragedy, I doubt whether nature
has endowed you with those peculiar qualities which are necessary for
achieving a remarkable literary success"--and finally a submission to
the maternal rule,