. He observed, indeed very justly,
that 'their loss was an additional reason for their going abroad; and
if it had not been fixed that he should have been one of the party, he
would force them out; but he would not advise them unless his advice was
asked, lest they might suspect that he recommended what he wished on
his own account.' I was not pleased that his intimacy with Mr.
Thrale's family, though it no doubt contributed much to his comfort and
enjoyment, was not without some degree of restraint: not, as has been
grossly suggested, that it was required of him as a task to talk for the
entertainment of them and their company; but that he was not quite
at his ease; which, however, might partly be owing to his own honest
pride--that dignity of mind which is always jealous of appearing too
compliant.

On Sunday, March 31, I called on him, and shewed him as a curiosity
which I had discovered, his Translation of Lobo's Account of Abyssinia,
which Sir John Pringle had lent me, it being then little known as one
of his works. He said, 'Take no notice of it,' or 'don't talk of it.' He
seemed to think it beneath him, though done at six-and-twenty. I said to
him, 'Your style, Sir, is much improved since you translated this.' He
answered with a sort of triumphant smile, 'Sir, I hope it is.'

On Wednesday, April 3, in the morning I found him very busy putting his
books in order, and as they were generally very old ones, clouds of dust
were flying around him. He had on a pair of large gloves such as hedgers
use. His present appearance put me in mind of my uncle, Dr. Boswell's
description of him, 'A robust genius, born to grapple with whole
libraries.'

He had been in company with Omai, a native of one of the South Sea
Islands, after he had been some time in this country. He was struck with
the elegance of his behaviour, and accounted for it thus: 'Sir, he had
passed his time, while in England, only in the best company; so that
all that he had acquired of our manners was genteel. As a proof of this,
Sir, Lord Mulgrave and he dined one day at Streatham; they sat
with their backs to the light fronting me, so that I could not see
distinctly; and there was so little of the savage in Omai, that I was
afraid to speak to either, lest I should mistake one for the other.'

We agreed to dine to-day at the Mitre-tavern after the rising of the
House of Lords, where a branch of the litigation concerning the Douglas
Estate, in which I was on