To-day Mrs. Schwellenberg did me a real favour, and with real good- nature; for she sent me the letters of my poor lost friends, Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale, which she knew me to be almost pining to procure. The book belongs to the Bishop of Carlisle, who lent it to Mr. Turbulent, from whom it was again lent to the Queen, and so passed on to Mrs. Schwellenberg. It is still unpublished.

   With what a sadness have I been reading! what scenes has it revived! -- what regrets renewed! These letters have not been more improperly published in the whole, than they are injudiciously displayed in their several parts. She has given all -- every word -- and thinks that, perhaps, a justice to Dr. Johnson, which, in fact, is the greatest injury to his memory.

   The few she has selected of her own do her, indeed, much credit: she has discarded all that were trivial and merely local, and given only such as contain something instructive, amusing, or ingenious.

   About four of the letters, however, of my ever- revered Dr. Johnson are truly worthy his exalted

   Our name once occurs: how I started at its sight! -- "Tis to mention the party that planned the first visit to our house: Miss Owen, Mr. Seward, Mrs. and Miss Thrale, and Dr. Johnson. How well shall we ever, my Susan, remember that morning!

   He loved Dr. Johnson, -- -and Dr. Johnson returned his affection. Their political principles and connections were opposite, but Mr. Wyndham respected his venerable friend too highly to discuss any points that could offend him; and showed for him so true a regard, that, during all his late illnesses, for the latter part of his life, his carriage and himself were alike at his service, to air, visit, or go out, whenever he was disposed to accept them.

   Nor was this all; one tender proof he gave of warm and generous regard, that I can never forget, and that rose instantly to my mind when I heard his name, and gave him a welcome in my eyes when they met his face: it is this: Dr. Johnson, in his last visit to Lichfield, was taken ill, and waited to recover strength for travelling back to town in his usual

   For a young man of fashion, such a trait towards an old, however dignified philosopher, must surely be a mark indisputable of an elevated mind and character; and still the more strongly it marked a noble way of thinking, as it was done in favour of a person in open opposition to all his own party, and declared prejudices. . . .

   I reminded him of the airings, in which he gave his time with his carriage for the benefit of Dr. Johnson's health. "What an advantage!" he cried, "was all that to myself! I had not merely an admiration, but a tenderness for him, -- the more I knew him, the stronger it became. We never disagreed;, even in politics I found it rather words than things in which we differed."

   "And if you could so love him," cried I, "knowing him only in a general way, what would you have felt for him had you known him at Streatham?"

   I then gave him a little history of his manners and way of life there, -- his good humour, his sport, his kindness, his sociability, and all the many excellent qualities that, in the world at large, were by so many means obscured.

   He was extremely interested in all I told him, and regrettingly said he had only known him in his worst days, when his health was upon its decline, and infirmities were crowding fast upon him.

   "Had he lived longer," he cried, "I am satisfied I should have taken him to my heart! have looked up to him, applied to him, advised with him in the most essential occurrences of my life? I am sure too, -- though it is a proud assertion, -- he would have liked me, also, better, had we mingled more. I felt a mixed fondness and reverence growing so strong upon me, that I am satisfied the closest union would have followed his longer life."

   I then mentioned how kindly he had taken his visit to him at Lichfield during a severe illness. "And he left you," I said, "a book?"

   "Yes," he answered, "and he gave me one, also, just before he died. "You will look into this sometimes," he said, "and not refuse to remember whence you had it."

   And then he added he had heard him speak of me, -- and with so much kindness, that I was forced not to press a recapitulation: yet now I wish I had heard it."

   Just before we broke up, "There is nothing," he cried, with energy, "for which I look back upon myself with severer discipline than the time I have thrown away in other pursuits, that might else have been devoted to that wonderful man!",

   And now for a scene a little surprising.

   The beautiful chapel of St. George, repaired and finished by the best artists at an immense expense, which was now opened after a very long shutting up

   This I heard, in my way to the chapel, from Mr. Turbulent, who overtook me, and mentioned having met Mr. Boswell at the Bishop of Carlisle's the evening before. He proposed bringing him to call upon me; but this I declined, certain how little satisfaction would be given here by the entrance of a man so famous for compiling anecdotes. But yet I really wished to see him again, for old acquaintance" sake, and unavoidable amusement from his oddity and good humour, as well as respect for the object of his constant admiration, my revered Dr. Johnson. I therefore told Mr. Turbulent I should be extremely glad to speak with him after the service was over.

   Accordingly, at the gate of the choir, Mr. Turbulent brought him to me. We saluted with mutual glee: his comic-serious face and manner have lost nothing of their wonted singularity; nor yet have his mind and language, as you will soon confess.

   "I am extremely glad to see you indeed," he cried, "but very sorry to see you here. My dear ma"am, why do you stay? -- it won't do, ma"am! you must resign! 2 -- we can put up with it no longer. I told my good host the Bishop so last night; we are all grown quite outrageous!"

   Whether I laughed the most, or stared the most, I am at a loss to say; but I hurried away from the cathedral, not to have such treasonable declamtions overheard, for we were surrounded by a multitude.

   He accompanied me, however, not losing one moment in continuing his exhortations: "If you do not quit, ma"am, very soon, some violent measures, I assure you, will be taken. We shall address Dr. Burney in a body; I am ready to make the harangue myself. We shall fall upon him all at once."

   I stopped him to inquire about Sir Joshua; he said he saw him very often, and that his spirits were very good. I asked about Mr. Burke's book. "Oh" cried he, "it will come out next week: 'tis the first book in the world, except my own, and that's coming out also very soon; only I want your help."

   "My help?"

   "Yes, madam; you must give me some of your choice little notes of the Doctor's; we have seen him long enough upon stilts; I want to show him in a new light. Grave Sam, and great Sam, and solemn Sam, and learned Sam, -- all these he has appeared over and over. Now I want to entwine a wreath of the graces across his brow; I want to show him as gay Sam, agreeable Sam, pleasant Sam; so you must help me with some of his beautiful billets to yourself."

   I evaded this by declaring I had not any stores at hand. He proposed a thousand curious expedients to get at them, but I was invincible. The Bust of Johnson Frowning at Boswell,

    Courtenay, and Mrs. Thrale

   Then I was hurrying on, lest I should be too late. He followed eagerly, and again exclaimed, "But, ma"am, as I tell you, this won't do -- you must resign off-hand! Why, I would farm-you out myself for double, treble the money! I wish I had the regulation of such a farm, -- yet I am no farmer general. But I should like to farm you, and so I will tell Dr. Burney. I mean to address him; I have a speech ready for the first opportunity."

   He then told me his Life of Dr. Johnson was nearly printed, and took a proof-sheet out of his pocket to show me; with crowds passing and repassing, knowing me well, and staring well at him; for we were now at the iron rails of the Queen's Lodge.

   I stopped; I could not ask him in: I saw he expected it, and was reduced to apologize, and tell him I must attend the Queen immediately.

   He uttered again stronger and stronger exhortations for my retreat, accompanied by expressions which I was obliged to check in their bud. But finding he had no chance for entering, he stopped me again at the gate, and said he would read me a page of his work.

   There was no refusing this; and he began, with a letter of Dr. Johnson's to himself. He read it in strong imitation of the Doctor's manner, very well, and not caricature. But Mrs. Schwellenberg was at

   You may suppose I had inquiries enough, from all around, of "Who was the gentleman I was talking to at the rails?" And an injunction rather frank not to admit him beyond those limits.

   However, I saw him again the next morning, in coming from early prayers, and he again renewed his remonstrance, and his petition for my letters of Dr. Johnson.

   I cannot consent to print private letters, even of a man so justly celebrated, when addressed to myself; no, I shall hold sacred those revered and but too scarce testimonies of the high honour his kindness conferred upon me. One letter I have from him that is a masterpiece of elegance and kindness united. "Twas his last.