. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, when you are of consequence enough
to oppose the practice of consulting upon Sunday, you should do it: but
you may go now. It is not criminal, though it is not what one should do,
who is anxious for the preservation and increase of piety, to which a
peculiar observance of Sunday is a great help. The distinction is clear
between what is of moral and what is of ritual obligation.'

On Saturday, May 13, I breakfasted with him by invitation, accompanied
by Mr. Andrew Crosbie, a Scotch Advocate, whom he had seen at Edinburgh,
and the Hon. Colonel (now General) Edward Stopford, brother to Lord
Courtown, who was desirous of being introduced to him. His tea and rolls
and butter, and whole breakfast apparatus were all in such decorum,
and his behaviour was so courteous, that Colonel Stopford was quite
surprized, and wondered at his having heard so much said of Johnson's
slovenliness and roughness.

I passed many hours with him on the 17th, of which I find all my
memorial is, 'much laughing.' It should seem he had that day been in
a humour for jocularity and merriment, and upon such occasions I never
knew a man laugh more heartily. We may suppose, that the high relish
of a state so different from his habitual gloom, produced more than
ordinary exertions of that distinguishing faculty of man, which
has puzzled philosophers so much to explain. Johnson's laugh was as
remarkable as any circumstance in his manner. It was a kind of good
humoured growl. Tom Davies described it drolly enough: 'He laughs like a
rhinoceros.'

'TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,--I have an old amanuensis in great distress. I have given
what I think I can give, and begged till I cannot tell where to beg
again. I put into his hands this morning four guineas. If you could
collect three guineas more, it would clear him from his present
difficulty. I am, Sir, your most humble servant,

'May 21, 1775.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

After my return to Scotland, I wrote three letters to him.

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,--I am returned from the annual ramble into the middle
counties. Having seen nothing I had not seen before, I have nothing
to relate. Time has left that part of the island few antiquities; and
commerce has left the people no singularities. I was glad to go abroad,
and, perhaps, glad to come home; which is, in other words, I was, I am
afraid, weary of being at home, and weary of being abroad. Is not this
the state