ed, and move his legs, which were in much pain; when
he regularly addressed himself to fervent prayer; and though, sometimes,
his voice failed him, his senses never did, during that time. The only
sustenance he received, was cyder and water. He said his mind was
prepared, and the time to his dissolution seemed long. At six in the
morning, he enquired the hour, and, on being informed, said that all
went on regularly, and he felt he had but a few hours to live.

'At ten o'clock in the morning, he parted from Cawston, saying, "You
should not detain Mr. Windham's servant:--I thank you; bear my
remembrance to your master." Cawston says, that no man could appear more
collected, more devout, or less terrified at the thoughts of the
approaching minute.

'This account, which is so much more agreeable than, and somewhat
different from, yours, has given us the satisfaction of thinking that
that great man died as he lived, full of resignation, strengthened in
faith, and joyful in hope.'

A few days before his death, he had asked Sir John Hawkins, as one of
his executors, where he should be buried; and on being answered,
'Doubtless, in Westminster-Abbey,' seemed to feel a satisfaction, very
natural to a Poet; and indeed in my opinion very natural to every man of
any imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be laid
with his fathers. Accordingly, upon Monday, December 20, his remains
were deposited in that noble and renowned edifice; and over his grave
was placed a large blue flag-stone, with this inscription:--

'SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.
_Obiit_ XIII _die Decembris_,
_Anno Domini_
M. DCC. LXXXIV.
Aetatis suoe_ LXXV.'

His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends,
particularly such of the members of the LITERARY CLUB as were then in
town; and was also honoured with the presence of several of the Reverend
Chapter of Westminster. Mr. Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Windham, Mr.
Langton, Sir Charles Bunbury, and Mr. Colman, bore his pall[1271]. His
schoolfellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the
burial service[1272].

I trust, I shall not be accused of affectation, when I declare, that I
find myself unable to express all that I felt upon the loss of such a
'Guide[1273], Philosopher, and Friend[1274].' I shall, therefore, not
say one word of my own, but adopt those of an eminent friend[1275],
which he uttered with an abrupt felicity, superior to all