By the time when we returned to Ashbourne, Dr. Taylor was gone to bed.  Johnson and I sat up a long time by ourselves.

On Saturday, September 20, after breakfast, when Taylor was gone out to his farm, Dr. Johnson and I had a serious conversation by ourselves on melancholy and madness.

We entered seriously upon a question of much importance to me, which Johnson was pleased to consider with friendly attention.  I had long complained to him that I felt myself discontented in Scotland, as too narrow a sphere, and that I wished to make my chief residence in London, the great scene of ambition, instruction, and amusement:  a scene, which was to me, comparatively speaking, a heaven upon earth.  Johnson.  ’Why, Sir, I never knew any one who had such a gust for London as you have:  and I cannot blame you for your wish to live there:  yet, Sir, were I in your father’s place, I should not consent to your settling there; for I have the old feudal notions, and I should be afraid that Auchinleck would be deserted, as you would soon find it more desirable to have a country-seat in a better climate.’

I suggested a doubt, that if I were to reside in London, the exquisite zest with which I relished it in occasional visits might go off, and I might grow tired of it.  Johnson.  ’Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London.  No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.’

He said, ’A country gentleman should bring his lady to visit London as soon as he can, that they may have agreeable topicks for conversation when they are by themselves.’

We talked of employment being absolutely necessary to preserve the mind from wearying and growing fretful, especially in those who have a tendency to melancholy; and I mentioned to him a saying which somebody had related of an American savage, who, when an European was expatiating on all the advantages of money, put this question:  ’Will it purchase occupation?’ Johnson.  ’Depend upon it, Sir, this saying is too refined for a savage.  And, Sir, money will purchase occupation; it will purchase all the conveniences of life; it will purchase variety of company; it will purchase all sorts of entertainment.’

I talked to him of Forster’s Voyage to the South Seas, which pleased me; but I found he did not like it.  ’Sir, (said he,) there is a great affectation of fine writing in it.’  Boswell.  ’But he carries you along with him.’  Johnson.  ’No, Sir; he does not carry me along with him:  he leaves me behind him:  or rather, indeed, he sets me before him; for he makes me turn over many leaves at a time.’

On Sunday, September 21, we went to the church of Ashbourne, which is one of the largest and most luminous that I have seen in any town of the same size.  I felt great satisfaction in considering that I was supported in my fondness for solemn publick worship by the general concurrence and munificence of mankind.