Polly, and Lucy--and Dr. Samuel Johnson,
blind, peevish Mrs. Williams, and lean, lank, preaching Mrs. Hall, was
exquisite.

I stole away to Coachmakers'-hall, and heard the difficult text of which
we had talked, discussed with great decency, and some intelligence, by
several speakers. There was a difference of opinion as to the appearance
of ghosts in modern times, though the arguments for it, supported by Mr.
Addison's authority[308], preponderated. The immediate subject of debate
was embarrassed by the _bodies_ of the saints having been said to rise,
and by the question what became of them afterwards; did they return
again to their graves? or were they translated to heaven? Only one
evangelist mentions the fact[309], and the commentators whom I have
looked at, do not make the passage clear. There is, however, no occasion
for our understanding it farther, than to know that it was one of the
extraordinary manifestations of divine power, which accompanied the most
important event that ever happened.

On Friday, April 20, I spent with him one of the happiest days that I
remember to have enjoyed in the whole course of my life. Mrs. Garrick,
whose grief for the loss of her husband was, I believe, as sincere as
wounded affection and admiration could produce, had this day, for the
first time since his death, a select party of his friends to dine with
her[310]. The company was Miss Hannah More, who lived with her, and whom
she called her Chaplain[311]; Mrs. Boscawen[312], Mrs. Elizabeth Carter,
Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Burney, Dr. Johnson, and myself. We found
ourselves very elegantly entertained at her house in the Adelphi[313],
where I have passed many a pleasing hour with him 'who gladdened
life[314].' She looked well, talked of her husband with complacency, and
while she cast her eyes on his portrait, which hung over the
chimney-piece, said, that 'death was now the most agreeable object to
her[315].' The very semblance of David Garrick was cheering. Mr.
Beauclerk, with happy propriety, inscribed under that fine portrait of
him, which by Lady Diana's kindness is now the property of my friend Mr.
Langton, the following passage from his beloved Shakspeare:--

'A merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest;
Which his fair t