to the delight of such universal kindness of reception, anything can be added by knowing that you retain my good will, you may indulge yourself in the full enjoyment of that small addition.
In the place where you now are, there is much to be observed. . . . But what will you do to keep away the black dog[1] that worries you at home? . . . The great direction which Burton has left to men disordered like you, is this: Be not solitary; be not idle: which I would thus modify—If you are idle, be not solitary; if you are solitary, be not idle.
There is a letter for you, from
Your humble servant,
October 27th 1779.
To Dr. Lawrence
Dear Sir,
At a time when all your friends ought to shew their kindness, and with a character which ought to make all that know you your friends, you may wonder that you have yet heard nothing from me. . . .
The loss, dear Sir, which you have lately suffered, I felt many years ago, and know there-
- ↑ Boswell's melancholy.
