She had lived with him many years in great
confidence, and they had mingled minds; I do not think he could have
found any wife that would have made him so happy. The woman was very
attentive and civil to me; she pressed me to fix a day for dining with
them, and to say what I liked, and she would be sure to get it for me.
Poor Sack! He is very ill, indeed. We parted as never to meet again.
It has quite broke me down.' This pathetic narrative was strangely
diversified with the grave and earnest defence of a man's having married
his maid. I could not but feel it as in some degree ludicrous.
In the morning of Tuesday, June 15, while we sat at Dr. Adams's, we
talked of a printed letter from the Reverend Herbert Croft, to a young
gentleman who had been his pupil, in which he advised him to read to the
end of whatever books he should begin to read. JOHNSON. 'This is surely
a strange advice; you may as well resolve that whatever men you happen
to get acquainted with, you are to keep to them for life.
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