I assured him, that in the extensive and various range of his acquaintance there never had been any one who had a more sincere respect and affection for him than I had. He said, 'I believe it, Sir. Were I in distress, there is no man to whom I should sooner come than to you. I should like to come and have a cottage in your park, toddle about, live mostly on milk, and be taken care of by Mrs. Boswell. She and I are good friends now; are we not?'
Talking of devotion, he said, 'Though it be true that "GOD dwelleth not in temples made with hands[702]," yet in this state of being, our minds are more piously affected in places appropriated to divine worship, than in others. Some people have a particular room in their house, where they say their prayers; of which I do not disapprove, as it may animate their devotion.'
He embraced me, and gave me his blessing, as usual when I was leaving him for any length of time. I walked from his door to-day, with a fearful apprehension of what might happen before I returned.
'To THE RIGHT HONOURABLE WILLIAM WINDHAM.
Sir, The bringer of this letter is the father of Miss Philips[703], a singer, who comes to try her voice on the stage at Dublin.
Mr. Philips is one of my old friends; and as I am of opinion that neither he nor his daughter will do any thing that can disgrace their benefactors, I take the liberty of entreating you to countenance and protect them so far as may be suitable to your station[704] and character; and shall consider myself as obliged by any favourable notice which they shall have the honour of receiving from you.
I am, Sir, Your most humble servant,
SAM JOHNSON. London, May 31, 1783.'
The following is another instance of his active benevolence:—
'To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.