shire to recover his strength by a change of air. During his absence he conceived that his life might be prolonged by his removal to a warmer climate, and the Lord Chancellor undertook to recommend his case, with a view to obtain an addition to his pension, but he was unsuccessful, and though he offered to advance 500l. towards his travelling expenses, from his own private purse, and Dr. "Vene-Brocklesby also offered him an annuity of 100. the Doctor thought proper to reject both these liberal proposals, and returned to London in November, seriously afflicted with an asthma and the dropsy. loss of Mr. Thrale, Johnson was deprived of many of the comforts of his life; and his visits becoming less agreeable at Streatham, he took his final leave of Mrs. Thrale in April 1783, after a connexion of nearly twenty years. It appears from the anecdotes of Mrs. Piozzi, (formerly Mrs. Thrale,) that her politeness to Johnson was principally in consequence of an habitual yoke imposed upon her by her husband. ration," says she, "for his virtues, reverence for his talents, and an habitual endurance of which my husband bore his share for seventeen years, made me go on so long with Mr. Johnson; but the perpetual confinement I will own to have been terrifying in the first years of our friendship, and irksome in the last, nor would I p 1 pre tend to support it when my coadjutor was no more." Previous to her marriage with the Italian musick-master, Johnson sent her a severe remonstrance, on her intimation of her intentions, which she answered by an indignant vindication of her conduct. From this time the malady with. which Johnson had been afflicted throughout his life, came upon him with redoubled violence, and his strength daily declined. In June 1783, he was afflicted with a parylitick stroke, which deprived him at first of his speech, but which he gradually recovered, so that in July he was able to pay a visit to Mr. Langton, at Rochester. He afterwards went to Mr. Bowles, at Hale, in Wiltshire, and during his visit Miss Williams expired. This, as he was ever agitated with the dread of his own dissolution, gave his mind a considerable shock; and he declared that his prospect of death was terrible. In November 1783, he was attacked by a dropsy, in consequence of which he was swelled from head to foot from this complaint however, he was relieved, and began to entertain hopes that his constitution was not entirely decayed. At Midsummer, 1784, he seemed in a state of convalescence, and went into Derby He He now felt his end approaching; and the strength of religion prevailed over the infirmity of nature. no longer dreaded the sentence of divine justice, but maintained a humble and pious hope of mercy. On the evening of Monday, December the 13th, 1784, he expired without a groan: and on the 20th his remains were deposited in Westminster Abbey, near the foot of Shakspeare's monument, and contiguous to the grave of Garrick. His schoolfellow and friend, Dr. Taylor, read the funeral service, and agreeably to his desire, a large blue flag stone was placed over his grave, with the following inscription: SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D. A monument has since been erected to his memory in the Cathedral Church of St. Paul. He left the bulk of his property, amounting to about 1500l. to his faithful black servant, Francis Barber, and appointed Sir John Hawkins and Sir William Scott, his executors. The death of Dr. Johnson excited the attention of the publick in an extraordinary degree, and the press teemed with literary effusions to his memory, in the form of Sermons, Elegies, Memoirs, Lives, Essays and Anecdotes. Those most distinguish ed were the Essay, by Samuel Hobhouse, Esq. and the "Political and Literary Review of Dr. Johnson's Character," by John Courtenay, Esq. M. P. but particularly the instructing and interesting Life of Johnson, by James Boswell, Esq. which appeared in two quarto volumes, in the year 1791. The person of Dr. Johnson was large and unwieldy; the disease of the scrophula affected his nerves, and his head and frame were subject to involuntary motions. He manifested on all occasons an independent spirit, which rendered him incessantly irritable, and carried his haughty temper beyond all bounds; while the habit of pronouncing decisions to friends and visitors, caused him to adopt a dictatorial manner, which was much enforced by a voice naturally loud and strong. His favourite topicks of discussion were, metaphysicks, moral and religious systems, literary anecdotes, but particularly biographical accounts of learned men. He however had an aversion from general history and antiquities, and would even be rude to the person who introduced those subjects in conversation. There is no doubt that the great trait in Johnson's mind was gigantick vigour. He was born a logician, and loved argumentation, while he argued with such profound investigation, that. a fallacy was sure to be refuted by his strength of reasoning. It is also. certain that with great powers of mind he possessed a considerable share of wit and humour; though he does not seem to have been able in conversation to command his passions. general philanthropy were unbounded; and it has been justly observed, that in his house the lame, the blind and the sorrowful found a sure retreat. He always considered a strict adherence to truth as a sacred obligation, and in relating the most trivial anecdote he would not allow himself the smallest addition in the way of embellishment. In short, his veracity was so rigid that Mr. Tyers, who was well acquainted with his manner, was accustomed to observe that he conversed as if he was talking upon oath. Dr. Johnson's failings, when contrasted with his virtues, sink into insignificance, and may be compared to specks on the sun. His piety and goodness of heart form a noble subject for imitation, his works will always remain a monument of genius and erudition; and by a diligent attention to them every mind may advance in virtue. We shall conclude this sketch by a quotation from Horace, which may be considered as Johnson's picture in miniature. "Iracundior est paulo minus aptus acutis Naribus horum hominum, rideri possit eo quod Rusticius tonso toga defluit, et male laxus In pede calceus hæret. At est bonus ut melior vir Non alius quisquam; at tibi amicus, at ingenium ingens Inculto latet hoc sub corpore...." MERRIMENT. M. de la Farre had long possessed. an affection for Madame de la Sabbere. Visiting her one morning, and fixing his eyes steadily on her countenance, he suddenly exclaimed, "Bless me, what is the matter with your right eye?" "Ah! la Farre,' replied she, "you no longer love me, I have had the same defect my whole life, but passion blinded you too much to discover it till this day." The price of the Port Foios Six Dollars per annum, to be paid in advance. Printed and Published, for the Editor, by SMITH & MAXWELL, NO. 28. NORTH SECOND-STREET. (NEW SERIES) BY OLIVER OLDSCHOOL, ESQ. Various, that the mind of desultory man, studious of change and pleased with novelty, may be indulged-Cowp Vol. VI. Philadelphia, Saturday, December 10, 1808. For The Port Folio. TRAVELS. ORIGINAL PAPERS. LETTERS FROM GENEVA AND FRANCE. Written during a residence of between two and three years in different parts of those countries, and addressed to a lady in Virginia. LETTER LVII. PARIS, February 21, 1806. I AM at length, my able to write to you from Paris, where we have passed three months, which have been pretty well filled up. I have, as usual, kept a regular journal of every thing we have seen and done, and have it open upon the table before me-but before I speak of Paris, I must give you some idea of our journey from Geneva. It was, I forget what day, in the last week of October, that we left Secheron, with heavy hearts at the thought of quitting F. but yielding to the necessity of turning our faces homewards, and not sorry that Paris lay in our way. There was a melancholy group to pass through on our way to the carriage-it consisted of our A 3 No. 24. faithful housekeeper, who had been also our cook; of the chairman who used to rub our floors; of the blanchisseuse, you will allow it to be a much prettier name than washer-woman; of the little sempstress that had worked for us; of the gardener and the gardener's wife-they were, all of them, I really believe, sorry to part with us, and the women showed it in their eyes: we left them, howthe sort of consolation which, as Cervantes says, was so efficacious in allaying the grief of Don Quixote's family, and the probability is, that they were not inconsolable. As it ever, was late when we set out, we went no farther than Nion, of which I have more than once given you some account, I believe, in my excursions through La Cote-it was once a Roman station, and while the waters of the lake protected the right flank of the garrison, their left was defended by a wall, which extended to the foot of Mount Jura: some remains of this, I am told, might be still traced; but I am surprised how any one can ever have mistaken them for the vestiges of the work which Cæsar threw up to prevent the incursions of the see in Voltaire's Age of Louis XIV how easily this country was taken from the king of Spain, to whom it had descended from Charles V; The village of Morée, where we stopt for an hour or two, may be considered as the commercial metropolis of these mountains-it is situ ated in a deep valley, the bare and perpendicular sides of which rise to the height of 1200 feet, leaving only room enough at bottom for two rows of houses and a narrow street, which is the high road to Paris-but the ani mating genius of Industry, guided by Ingenuity, resides in this apparently sequestered spot; the little stream which in former times covered the valley, is now restrained to a narrow channel, and is rendered useful in twenty y different ways it sets a variety of mills in motion, and is the principal instrument of plenty, and even of opulence to a district that could not otherwise perhaps, have maintained its inhabitants for four days in a year. Poligny, which is the last town the traveller passes through on his way to Dijon, is at the termination of the mountainous part of Jura, and at the foot of a very high hill, not less perhaps than 1000 or 1200 feet, and presents a very singular appearance. We arrived on the eminence which overhangs the town, about sunset, the fogs had already covered the plains below, and they exhibited what might have seemed an immense ocean, and such they really were in all probability, some centuries ago, if we may judge at least by the marine fossils which appear in the side of the winding terrace that leads down to Poligny. On the other side, and of a clear day, the traveller might suppose himself on the Italian side of the Alps-every species of vegetation in the highest cultivation, with here and there a canal, and rows or clusters of poplar, with one never-ending plain, present a perfect resemblance of Lombardy, while the bilious countenances of the peasantry bespeak the price they pay for the advantages which nature has bestowed upon them; I should prefer the solitude and almost eternal winter of the mountains, or even the laborious life of the middle country, where wine 1 is made in some places at an expense of manual labour that our negroes in South Carolina would certainly sink under; for manure, and frequently the soil itself, is to be carried up several hundred feet on the shoulders of the cultivator. Figure to yourself a peasant setting out from his native village in the valley, of a winter's morning, to get fuel for his family, and making up a parcel of it, which he confines in a sort of rude sledge, on the brink of some neighbouring mountain; he then takes his station on the load, so that he can touch the ground at pleasure with his feet, and committing himself to a narrow, winding, slippery path, and frequently of beaten snow, and generally bordered from place to place by precipices, he gets back to his family with almost ærial velocity. Others again live in villages, on the top of some naked hill, and are obliged to repair to the forest on the neighbouring mountain, in quest of wood, this they throw down some precipice and afterwards carry home upon their shoulders. The proverb of the country is, that wood warms a man twice. Their winter in those parts of Jura are very long, and the snow frequently accumulates in such a manner that they have no means of egress from their houses, but by the chimney, from which they may be seen sallying upon occasion, with snow shoes, to prevent their sinking. People so situated pay, I presume, no idle visits, and their fare is not such as would tempt one to ask hospitality: it consists of bread baked at the setting in of the winter, very ordinary cheese, and a little smoked beef for particular and very great occasions; their drink is of the same humble description, and when best, is but a sort of cider, made of wild apples, mixed with all the various sorts of berries which the woods afford: surely our negroes are better off. Of this interesting country, its lakes and mountains, its streams and forests, its towns, castles, and ancient convents, and of all that can engage the attention of the natural philosopher and the agriculturist, Mr. Lequinio, whose name I have frequently_mentioned to you, has composed two interesting volumes; and it were to be wished, that his talents of observation could now be as well directed to the neighbourhood of Edgefield Court House, in South Carolina, where he has found repose after the tumults of a life long agitated by the storms and horrours of the French revolution. I remember travelling through this very country of Franche Comté thirtytwo years ago, and having been tired of hills and valleys, and of what appeared an uninteresting uniformity; had I possessed as good a guide as Mr. Lequinio, and that little degree of knowledge which I have since been able to acquire, and which is essentially necessary in order to understand in some measure, and to admire the wonders of nature and the works of art, I might have employed some weeks to great advantage and very agreeably; I would have visited their mines and salt works, and their various manufactories, from the forge to the watch-maker's shop; have observed their improvements in agriculture and irrigation, and have inquired into their modes of life and domestick comforts, from the cluster of families who reside under one common roof with their cattle, in the pure air of the mountains, to the manufacturer in the village, who gives to iron and to steel all the forms they admit of, or the wants of mankind require, and even to the solitary miller at the source of the Seille, who never, even for a moment, in the longest days of summer, can enjoy the vivifying rays of the sun, or scarcely ever behold from his deep recess, any of the celestial bodies but the north star. The summer of the lofty mountains, though short, is sufficient for a crop of barley, oats and potatoes, some hay is also made, and the natural herbage affords pasturage to great numbers of cows, who are driven up from the vallies-80 cows give 50 lb. of cheese a day when the grass is at its best, besides which the milking of the evening is made to |