Johnson was, that I might hear mine host's
notion of him. 'Sir, (said he,) Johnson, the great writer; _Oddity_, as
they call him. He's the greatest writer in England; he writes for the
ministry; he has a correspondence abroad, and lets them know what's
going on[591].'
My friend, who had a thorough dependance upon the authenticity of my
relation without any _embellishment_[592], as _falsehood_ or _fiction_ is
too gently called, laughed a good deal at this representation of
himself.
'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, Sept. 29, 1777.
'MY DEAR SIR,
'By the first post I inform you of my safe arrival at my own house, and
that I had the comfort of finding my wife and children all in good
health.
'When I look back upon our late interview, it appears to me to have
answered expectation better than almost any scheme of happiness that I
ever put in execution. My Journal is stored with wisdom and wit[593]; and
my memory is filled with the recollection of lively and affectionate
feelings, which now, I think, yield me more satisfaction than at the
time when they were first excited. I have experienced this upon other
occasions.
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