“May 21, 1831.—­Tom was from London at the time my mother’s death occurred, and things fell out in such a manner that the first information he received of it was from the newspapers.  He came home directly.  He was in an agony of distress, and gave way at first to violent bursts of feeling.  During the whole of the week he was with us all day, and was the greatest comfort to us imaginable.  He talked a great deal of our sorrow, and led the conversation by degrees to other subjects, bearing the whole burden of it himself and interesting us without jarring with the predominant feeling of the time.  I never saw him appear to greater advantage—­never loved him more dearly.

“September 1831.—­Of late we have walked a good deal.  I remember pacing up and down Brunswick Square and Lansdowne Place for two hours one day, deep in the mazes of the most subtle metaphysics;- -up and down Cork Street, engaged over Dryden’s poetry and the great men of that time;—­making jokes all the way along Bond Street, and talking politics everywhere.

“Walking in the streets with Tom and Hannah, and talking about the hard work the heads of his party had got now, I said: 

“’How idle they must think you, when they meet you here in the busy part of the day!’ ‘Yes, here I am,’ said he, ’walking with two unidea’d girls. [Boswell relates in his tenth chapter how Johnson scolded Langton for leaving “his social friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched unidea’d girls.”] However, if one of the Ministry says to me, “Why walk you here all the day idle?” I shall say, “Because no man has hired me."’

“We talked of eloquence, which he has often compared to fresco-painting:  the result of long study and meditation, but at the moment of execution thrown off with the greatest rapidity; what has apparently been the work of a few hours being destined to last for ages.

“Mr. Tierney said he was sure Sir Philip Francis had written Junius, for he was the proudest man he ever knew, and no one ever heard of anything he had done to be proud of.

“November 14, 1831, half-past-ten.—­On Friday last Lord Grey sent for Tom.  His note was received too late to be acted on that day.  On Saturday came another, asking him to East Sheen on that day, or Sunday.  Yesterday, accordingly, he went, and stayed the night, promising to be here as early as possible to-day.  So much depends upon the result of this visit!  That he will be offered a place I have not the least doubt.  He will refuse a Lordship of the Treasury, a Lordship of the Admiralty, or the Mastership of the Ordnance.  He will accept the Secretaryship of the Board of Control, but will not thank them for it; and would not accept that, but that he thinks it will be a place of importance during the approaching discussions on the East Indian monopoly.

“If he gets a sufficient salary, Hannah and I shall most likely live with him.  Can I possibly look forward to anything happier?  I cannot imagine a course of life that would suit him better than thus to enjoy the pleasures of domestic life without its restraints; with sufficient business, but not, I hope, too much.