eritas, a man who is well
warmed with wine will speak truth. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that may be an
argument for drinking, if you suppose men in general to be liars. But,
Sir, I would not keep company with a fellow, who lyes as long as he is
sober, and whom you must make drunk before you can get a word of truth
out of him.'

At this time it appears from his Prayers and Meditations, that he had
been more than commonly diligent in religious duties, particularly in
reading the Holy Scriptures. It was Passion Week, that solemn season
which the Christian world has appropriated to the commemoration of
the mysteries of our redemption, and during which, whatever embers of
religion are in our breasts, will be kindled into pious warmth.

I paid him short visits both on Friday and Saturday, and seeing his
large folio Greek Testament before him, beheld him with a reverential
awe, and would not intrude upon his time. While he was thus employed to
such good purpose, and while his friends in their intercourse with him
constantly found a vigorous intellect and a lively imagination, it is
melancholy to read in his private register, 'My mind is unsettled and my
memory confused. I have of late turned my thoughts with a very useless
earnestness upon past incidents. I have yet got no command over my
thoughts; an unpleasing incident is almost certain to hinder my rest.'
What philosophick heroism was it in him to appear with such manly
fortitude to the world while he was inwardly so distressed! We may
surely believe that the mysterious principle of being 'made perfect
through suffering' was to be strongly exemplified in him.

On Sunday, April 19, being Easter-day, General Paoli and I paid him a
visit before dinner.

We talked of sounds. The General said, there was no beauty in a simple
sound, but only in an harmonious composition of sounds. I presumed to
differ from this opinion, and mentioned the soft and sweet sound of a
fine woman's voice. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, if a serpent or a toad uttered
it, you would think it ugly.' BOSWELL. 'So you would think, Sir, were
a beautiful tune to be uttered by one of those animals.' JOHNSON. 'No,
Sir, it would be admired. We have seen fine fiddlers whom we liked as
little as toads.' (laughing.)

While I remained in London this spring, I was with him at several other
times, both by himself and in company. I dined with him one day at the
Crown and Anchor tavern, in the Strand, with Lord Elibank, Mr. Langton,