His fervent attachment to Dr. Johnson at the early age of three-and-twenty, when the dissipation and amusements of London hold out to men of such lively parts as he possessed irresistible attraction, reflects great credit on his memory. His veneration and esteem for his friend induced him, at a subsequent period, to go through the laborious task of arranging and digesting the immense mass of materials with which his own diligence and the kindness of his friends had furnished him; and of forming his history of the life of that excellent and extraordinary man; one of the most instructive and entertaining books in the English language.... Mr. Boswell undoubtedly possessed considerable intellectual powers, for which he has not had sufficient credit; many supposing him to be a mere relator of the sayings of others: but it is manifest to every reader of any discernment that he never could have collected such a mass of information and just observation on human life as his very valuable work contains, without great strength of mind and much various knowledge; as he never could have displayed his collections in so lively a manner as he has done, had he not possessed a very picturesque imagination, or, in other words, had he not had a very happy turn for poetry as well as for humour and for wit. Mr. Malone ends his letter by paying a final tribute to the affection of Boswell's friends: He will long be regretted by a wide circle of friends, to whom his good qualities and social talents always made his company a valuable accession; and by none more sincerely than the present vindicator of his fame. * * * * * Life is commonly somewhat of a battle. Blows are given and received. Flags are lost and won. Positions are captured and surrendered. Limbs are crushed and amputated. There are many ugly wounds; some bleed and fester; some are healed. It is natural to look back on life, as the general surveys the battlefield and the hospitals, to count the score. At the end of all the struggle and the horror, the strange joys and the fantastic dreams, what has happened? What view does the fighter take himself? Was the cause worth struggling for, after all is done? Would he fight on the same side if he could start again? Would he refrain from fighting? Or would he fight with a different object? Is the essential man the same? Or have his ambitions and desires and the vital force of the man been modified? And if so how much? Can they be recognised as the same equipment with which he set forth, or has the consuming fire burnt out, and the bright flame grown pale and dim?