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Updated: May 19, 2025
See account of him in the Gent. Mag. Feb. 1785. BOSWELL, see ante, i. 243, note 3. Mrs. 'Content thyself to be obscurely good. Addisons Cato, act. iv. sc. 4. In both editions of Sir John Hawkins's Life of Dr. Johnson, 'letter'd ignorance' is printed. BOSWELL. Mr. Boswell is habitually unjust to Sir J. Hawkins. As some kind of balance, I suppose, to this injustice, he suppresses this note.
The following lines were by mistake omitted; they were designed to have been inserted after l. 102, p. 153. Green swells the beech, the widening knots improve, So spread the tender growths of culture'd love; Wave follows wave, the letter'd lines decay, So Love's soft forms neglected melt away. Additional note to Bellis.
With various stores of erudition fraught, The lively image, the deep-searching thought, Slept in repose; but when the moment press'd, The bright ideas stood at once confess'd; Instant his genius sped its vigorous rays, And o'er the letter'd world diffus'd a blaze: As womb'd with fire the cloud electrick flies, And calmly o'er th' horizon seems to rise; Touch'd by the pointed steel, the lightning flows, And all th' expanse with rich effulgence glows.
"I suppose the letter'd be opened." "It would," said the outlaw. "You're sure a clever feller, Gus. You c'n see a white hoss in the sunlight. Now what d'you suppose they'd think if they opened a letter addressed to Dan Barry and read something like this: "'Dear Dan: You made great play for L.H. None of us is going to forget it. Maybe the thing for you to do is to lay low for a while.
They make altogether a huge cluster, with the additional tents, extra wards for contagious diseases, guard-houses, sutler's stores, chaplain's house; in the middle will probably be an edifice devoted to the offices of the surgeon in charge and the ward surgeons, principal attaches, clerks, &c. The wards are either letter'd alphabetically, ward G, ward K, or else numerically, 1, 2, 3, &c.
In studious deshabille behold her sit, A letter'd gossip and a housewife wit: At once invoking, though for different views, Her gods, her cook, her milliner, and muse. Round her strew'd room a frippery chaos lies, A chequer'd wreck of notable and wise.
Me though no peculiar fair Touches with a lover's care; Though the pride of my desire Asks immortal friendship's name, Asks the palm of honest fame And the old heroic lyre; Though the day have smoothly gone, Or to letter'd leisure known, Or in social duty spent; Yet at the eve my lonely breast Seeks in vain for perfect rest, Languishes for true content.
Renouncing every pleasing page From authors of historic use; Preferring to the letter'd sage The square of the hypotenuse. Still harmless are these occupations, That hurt none but the hapless student, Compared with other recreations Which bring together the imprudent. "We are sorry to hear so bad an account of the college-psalmody, as is contained in the following attic stanzas
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