Johnson told me, with an amiable fondness, a little pleasing
circumstance relative to this work. Mrs. Johnson, in whose judgement and
taste he had great confidence, said to him, after a few numbers of The
Rambler had come out, 'I thought very well of you before; but I did not
imagine you could have written any thing equal to this.' Distant praise,
from whatever quarter, is not so delightful as that of a wife whom a
man loves and esteems. Her approbation may be said to 'come home to his
bosom;' and being so near, its effect is most sensible and permanent.

Mr. James Elphinston, who has since published various works, and who
was ever esteemed by Johnson as a worthy man, happened to be in Scotland
while The Rambler was coming out in single papers at London. With a
laudable zeal at once for the improvement of his countrymen, and the
reputation of his friend, he suggested and took the charge of an edition
of those Essays at Edinburgh, which followed progressively the London
publication.

This year he wrote to the same gentleman upon a mournful occasion.


'To MR. JAMES ELPHINSTON.

September 25, 1750.

'DEAR SIR, You have, as I find by every kind of evidence, lost an
excellent mother; and I hope you will not think me incapable of
partaking of your grief. I have a mother, now eighty-two years of age,
whom, therefore, I must soon lose, unless it please GOD that she
rather should mourn for me. I read the letters in which you relate your