’Since I saw you, I have had a long conversation with Cawston[1270], who sat up with Dr. Johnson, from nine o’clock, on Sunday evening, till ten o’clock, on Monday morning.  And, from what I can gather from him, it should seem, that Dr. Johnson was perfectly composed, steady in hope, and resigned to death.  At the interval of each hour, they assisted him to sit up in his bed, and move his legs, which were in much pain; when he regularly addressed himself to fervent prayer; and though, sometimes, his voice failed him, his senses never did, during that time.  The only sustenance he received, was cyder and water.  He said his mind was prepared, and the time to his dissolution seemed long.  At six in the morning, he enquired the hour, and, on being informed, said that all went on regularly, and he felt he had but a few hours to live.

’At ten o’clock in the morning, he parted from Cawston, saying, “You should not detain Mr. Windham’s servant:—­I thank you; bear my remembrance to your master.”  Cawston says, that no man could appear more collected, more devout, or less terrified at the thoughts of the approaching minute.

’This account, which is so much more agreeable than, and somewhat different from, yours, has given us the satisfaction of thinking that that great man died as he lived, full of resignation, strengthened in faith, and joyful in hope.’

A few days before his death, he had asked Sir John Hawkins, as one of his executors, where he should be buried; and on being answered, ‘Doubtless, in Westminster-Abbey,’ seemed to feel a satisfaction, very natural to a Poet; and indeed in my opinion very natural to every man of any imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be laid with his fathers.  Accordingly, upon Monday, December 20, his remains were deposited in that noble and renowned edifice; and over his grave was placed a large blue flag-stone, with this inscription:—­

’SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. Obiit XIII die Decembris, Anno Domini M. DCC.  LXXXIV.  Aetatis suoe_ LXXV.’

His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends, particularly such of the members of the LITERARY CLUB as were then in town; and was also honoured with the presence of several of the Reverend Chapter of Westminster.  Mr. Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Windham, Mr. Langton, Sir Charles Bunbury, and Mr. Colman, bore his pall[1271].  His schoolfellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the burial service[1272].

I trust, I shall not be accused of affectation, when I declare, that I find myself unable to express all that I felt upon the loss of such a ‘Guide[1273], Philosopher, and Friend[1274].’  I shall, therefore, not say one word of my own, but adopt those of an eminent friend[1275], which he uttered with an abrupt felicity, superior to all studied compositions:—­’He has made a chasm, which not only nothing can fill up, but which nothing has a tendency to fill up.  Johnson is dead.  Let us go to the next best:—­there is nobody; no man can be said to put you in mind of Johnson[1276].’