physically considered; morally there is.' BOSWELL. 'But may not a man
attain to such a degree of hope as not to be uneasy from the fear of
death?' JOHNSON. 'A man may have such a degree of hope as to keep him
quiet. You see I am not quiet, from the vehemence with which I talk; but
I do not despair.' MRS. ADAMS. 'You seem, Sir, to forget the merits
of our Redeemer.' JOHNSON. 'Madam, I do not forget the merits of my
Redeemer; but my Redeemer has said that he will set some on his right
hand and some on his left.' He was in gloomy agitation, and said, 'I'll
have no more on't.' If what has now been stated should be urged by
the enemies of Christianity, as if its influence on the mind were
not benignant, let it be remembered, that Johnson's temperament was
melancholy, of which such direful apprehensions of futurity are often a
common effect. We shall presently see that when he approached nearer to
his aweful change, his mind became tranquil, and he exhibited as much
fortitude as becomes a thinking man in that situation.

From the subject of death we passed to discourse of life, whether it was
upon the whole more happy or miserable. Johnson was decidedly for the
balance of misery: in confirmation of which I maintained, that no man
would choose to lead over again the life which he had experienced.
Johnson acceded to that opinion in the strongest terms.

On Sunday, June 13, our philosopher was calm at breakfast. There was
something exceedingly pleasing in our leading a College life, without
restraint, and with superiour elegance, in consequence of our living
in the Master's house, and having the company of ladies. Mrs. Kennicot
related, in his presence, a lively saying of Dr. Johnson to Miss Hannah
More, who had expressed a wonder that the poet who had written Paradise
Lost should write such poor Sonnets:--'Milton, Madam, was a genius
that could cut a Colossus from a rock; but could not carve heads upon
cherry-stones.'

On Monday, June 14, and Tuesday, 15, 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; I find he has married
his maid; he has done