ds, one day at dinner, I was saying that Mr. Swinton
the chaplain of the gaol, and also a frequent preacher before the
University, a learned man, but often thoughtless and absent, preached
the condemnation-sermon on repentance, before the convicts, on the
preceding day, Sunday; and that in the close he told his audience, that
he should give them the remainder of what he had to say on the subject,
the next Lord's Day. Upon which, one of our company, a Doctor of
Divinity, and a plain matter-of-fact man, by way of offering an apology
for Mr. Swinton, gravely remarked, that he had probably preached the
same sermon before the University: "Yes, Sir, (says Johnson) but the
University were not to be hanged the next morning."

'I forgot to observe before, that when he left Mr. Meeke, (as I have
told above) he added, "About the same time of life, Meeke was left
behind at Oxford to feed on a Fellowship, and I went to London to get my
living: now, Sir, see the difference of our literary characters!"'

The degree of Master of Arts, which, it has been observed, could not be
obtained for him at an early period of his life, was now considered as
an honour of considerable importance, in order to grace the title-page
of his Dictionary; and his character in the literary world being by this
time deservedly high, his friends thought that, if proper exertions were
made, the University of Oxford would pay him the compliment.

To THE REVEREND THOMAS WARTON.

'DEAR SIR,--I am extremely sensible of the favour done me, both by Mr.
Wise and yourself. The book* cannot, I think, be printed in less than
six weeks, nor probably so soon; and I will keep back the title-page,
for such an insertion as you seem to promise me. . . .

'I had lately the favour of a letter from your brother, with some
account of poor Collins, for whom I am much concerned. I have a notion,
that by very great temperance, or more properly abstinence, he may yet
recover. . . .

'You know poor Mr. Dodsley has lost his wife; I believe he is much
affected. I hope he will not suffer so much as I yet suffer for the loss
of mine.

[Greek text omitted]

I have ever since seemed to myself broken off from mankind; a kind of
solitary wanderer in the wild of life, without any direction, or
fixed point of view: a gloomy gazer on a world to which I have little
relation. Yet I would endeavour, by the help of you and your brother,
to supply the want of closer union, by friendship: and