wish both her and you very many years, and
very happy.

'For some months past I have been so withdrawn from the world, that I
can send you nothing particular. All your friends, however, are well,
and will be glad of your return to London.

'I am, dear Sir,

'Yours most affectionately,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'January 5, 1782.'

At a time when he was less able than he had once been to sustain a
shock, he was suddenly deprived of Mr. Levett, which event he thus
communicated to Dr. Lawrence:--

'SIR,

'Our old friend, Mr. Levett, who was last night eminently cheerful, died
this morning. The man who lay in the same room, hearing an uncommon
noise, got up and tried to make him speak, but without effect. He then
called Mr. Holder, the apothecary, who, though when he came he thought
him dead, opened a vein, but could draw no blood. So has ended the long
life of a very useful and very blameless man.

'I am, Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Jan. 17, 1782.'

In one of his memorandum-books in my possession, is the following
entry:--

'January 20, Sunday. Robert Levett was buried in the church-yard of
Bridewell, between one and two in the afternoon. He died on Thursday 17,
about seven in the morning, by an instantaneous death. He was an old and
faithful friend; I have known him from about 46. _Commendavi_. May GOD
have mercy on him. May he have mercy on me.'

Such was Johnson's affectionate regard for Levett[433], that he honoured
his memory with the following pathetick verses:--

'Condemd'd to Hope's delusive mine,
As on we toil from day to day,
By sudden blast or slow decline
Our social comforts drop away.

Well try'd through many a varying year,
See LEVETT to the grave descend;
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of every friendless name the friend[434].

Yet still he fills affection's eye,
Obscurely wise[435], and coarsely kind;
Nor, letter'd arrogance[436], deny
Thy praise to merit unrefin'd.

When fainting Nature call'd for aid,
And hov'ring Death prepar'd the blow,
His vigorous remedy display'd
The power of art without the show.

In Misery's darkest caverns known,
His ready help was ever nigh,
Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan,
And lonely want retir'd to die[437].

No summons mock'd by chill delay,
No petty gains disdain'd b