Sur un mince chrystal l'hyver conduit leurs pas,

Le precipice est sous la glace;

Telle est de nos plaisirs la legere surface,

Glissez mortels; n'appayez pas.

And I begged translations from every body: Dr. Johnson gave me this;

O'er ice the rapid skaiter flies,

With sport above and death below:
Where mischief lurks in gay disguise,
Thus lightly touch and quickly go.

He was however most exceedingly enraged when he knew that in the course of the season I had asked half a dozen acquaintance to do the same thing; and said, it was a piece of treachery, and done to make every body else look little when compared to my favourite friends the Pepyses, whose translations were unquestionably the best. I will insert them because he did say so. This is the distich given me by sir Lucas, to whom I owe more solid obligations, no less than the power of thanking him for the life he saved, and whose least valuable praise is the correctness of his taste:

O'er the ice as o'er pleasure you lightly should glide,
Both have gulfs which their flattering surfaces hide.

This other more serious one was written by his brother:

Swift o'er the level how the skaiters slide,

And skim the glitt'ring surface as they go:
Thus o'er life's specious pleasures lightly glide,
But pause not, press not on the gulf below.

Dr. Johnson seeing this last, and thinking a moment, repeated,

O'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound,
With nimble glide the skaiters play;
O'er treacherous pleasure's flow'ry ground
Thus lightly skim, and haste away.

and

Though thus uncommonly ready both to give and take offence, Mr. Johnson had many rigid maxims concerning the necessity of continued softness and compliance of disposition when I once mentioned Shenstone's idea, that some little quarrel among lovers, relations, and friends, was useful, and contributed to their general happiness upon the whole, by making the soul feel her elastic force, and return to the beloved object with renewed delight:-"Why, what a pernicious maxim is this now (cries Johnson), all quarrels ought to be avoided studiously, particularly conjugal ones, as no one can possibly tell where they

may end; besides that lasting dislike is often the consequence of occasional disgust, and that the cup of life is surely bitter enough, without squeezing in the hateful rind of resentment." It was upon something like the same principle, and from his general hatred of refinement, that when I told him how Dr. Collier, in order to keep the servants in humour with his favourite dog, by seeming rough with the animal himself on many occasions, and crying out, Why will nobody knock this cur's brains out? meant to conciliate their tenderness towards Pompey; he returned me for answer, "that the maxim was evidently false, and founded on ignorance of human life: that the servants would kick the dog the sooner for having obtained such a sanction to their severity: and I once (added he) chid my wife for beating the cat before the maid, who will now (said I) treat puss with cruelty perhaps, and plead her mistress's example."

I asked him upon this, if he ever disputed with his wife? (I had heard that he loved her passionately.) "Perpetually (said he): my wife had a particular reverence for cleanliness, and desired the praise of neatness in her dress and furniture, as many ladies do, till they be

come troublesome to their best friends, slaves to their own besoms, and only sigh for the hour of sweeping their husbands out of the house as dirt and useless lumber: a clean floor is so comfortable, she would say sometimes, by way of twitting; till at last I told her, that I thought we had had talk enough about the floor, we would now have a touch at the cieling."

On another occasion I have heard him blame her for a fault many people have, of setting the miseries of their neighbours half unintentionally, half wantonly, before their eyes, shewing them the bad side of their profession, situation, &c. He said, "she would lament the dependance of pupillage to a young heir, &c. and once told a waterman who rowed her along the Thames in a wherry, that he was no happier than a galley-slave, one being chained to the oar by authority, the other by want. I had however (said he, laughing,) the wit to get her daughter on my side always before we began the dispute. She read comedy better than any body he ever heard (he said); in tragedy she mouthed too much."

Garrick told Mr. Thrale however, that she

was a little painted puppet, of no value at all, and quite disguised with affectation, full of odd airs of rural elegance; and he made out some comical scenes, by mimicking her in a dialogue he pretended to have overheard: I do not know whether he meant such stuff to be believed or no, it was so comical; nor did I indeed ever see him represent her ridiculously, though my husband did. The intelligence I gained of her from old Levett, was only perpetual illness and perpetual opium. The picture I found of her at Litchfield was very pretty, and her daughter Mrs. Lucy Porter said it was like. Mr. Johnson has told me, that her hair was eminently beautiful, quite blonde like that of a baby; but that she fretted about the colour, and was always desirous to die it black, which he very judiciously hindered her from doing. His account of their wedding we used to think ludicrous enough-"I was riding to church (says Johnson), and she following on another single horse she hung back however, and I turned about to see whether she could get her steed along, or what was the matter. I had however soon occasion to see it was only coquetry, and that I despised, so quickening my