We next called on Mr. Lloyd, one of the people called Quakers.  He too was not at home; but Mrs. Lloyd was, and received us courteously, and asked us to dinner.  Johnson said to me, ’After the uncertainty of all human things at Hector’s, this invitation came very well.’  We walked about the town, and he was pleased to see it increasing.

Mr. Lloyd joined us in the street; and in a little while we met Friend Hector, as Mr. Lloyd called him.  It gave me pleasure to observe the joy which Johnson and he expressed on seeing each other again.  Mr. Lloyd and I left them together, while he obligingly shewed me some of the manufactures of this very curious assemblage of artificers.  We all met at dinner at Mr. Lloyd’s, where we were entertained with great hospitality.  Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had been married the same year with their Majesties, and like them, had been blessed with a numerous family of fine children, their numbers being exactly the same.  Johnson said, ’Marriage is the best state for a man in general; and every man is a worse man, in proportion as he is unfit for the married state.’

Dr. Johnson said to me in the morning, ’You will see, Sir, at Mr. Hector’s, his sister, Mrs. Careless, a clergyman’s widow.  She was the first woman with whom I was in love.  It dropt out of my head imperceptibly; but she and I shall always have a kindness for each other.’  He laughed at the notion that a man never can be really in love but once, and considered it as a mere romantick fancy.

On our return from Mr. Bolton’s, Mr. Hector took me to his house, where we found Johnson sitting placidly at tea, with his first love; who, though now advanced in years, was a genteel woman, very agreeable, and well-bred.

Johnson lamented to Mr. Hector the state of one of their school-fellows, Mr. Charles Congreve, a clergyman, which he thus described:  ’He obtained, I believe, considerable preferment in Ireland, but now lives in London, quite as a valetudinarian, afraid to go into any house but his own.  He takes a short airing in his post-chaise every day.  He has an elderly woman, whom he calls cousin, who lives with him, and jogs his elbow when his glass has stood too long empty, and encourages him in drinking, in which he is very willing to be encouraged; not that he gets drunk, for he is a very pious man, but he is always muddy.  He confesses to one bottle of port every day, and he probably drinks more.  He is quite unsocial; his conversation is quite monosyllabical:  and when, at my last visit, I asked him what a clock it was? that signal of my departure had so pleasing an effect on him, that he sprung up to look at his watch, like a greyhound bounding at a hare.’  When Johnson took leave of Mr. Hector, he said, ’Don’t grow like Congreve; nor let me grow like him, when you are near me.’