'I am sorry that your health is impaired; perhaps the spring and the
summer may, in some degree, restore it: but if not, we must submit to
the inconveniences of time, as to the other dispensations of Eternal
Goodness. Pray for me, and write to me, or let Mr. Pearson write
for you.
'I am, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'London, Nov. 29, 1783.'
1784: Aetat. 75.--And now I am arrived at the last year of the life of
SAMUEL JOHNSON, a year in which, although passed in severe
indisposition, he nevertheless gave many evidences of the continuance of
those wondrous powers of mind, which raised him so high in the
intellectual world. His conversation and his letters of this year were
in no respect inferiour to those of former years.
The following is a remarkable proof of his being alive to the most
minute curiosities of literature.
'To MR. DILLY, BOOKSELLER, IN THE POULTRY.
'SIR,
'There is in the world a set of books which used to be sold by the
booksellers on the bridge[802], and which I must entreat you to procure
me. They are called _Burton's Books_[803]; the title of one is
_Admirable Curiosities, Rarities, and Wonders in England_.
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