“The doctor, from the time that he was certain his death was near, appeared to be perfectly resigned, was seldom or never fretful or out of temper, and often said to his faithful servant, ‘Attend, Francis, to the salvation of your soul, which is the object of the greatest importance:’ he also explained to him passages in the scripture, and seemed to have pleasure in talking upon religious subjects. “On Monday the 13th of December, the day on which he died, a Miss Morris, daughter to a particular friend of his, called, and said to Francis, that she begged to be permitted to see the doctor, that she might earnestly request of him to give her his blessing. Francis went into the room followed by the young lady, and delivered the message. The doctor turned himself in the bed, and said, ‘God bless you, my dear!’ These were the last words he spoke.---His difficulty of breathing increased, ’till about seven o’clock in the evening, when Mr. Barber, and Mr. Desmoulins, who were sitting in the room, observing that the noise he made in breathing had ceased, went to the bed, and found he was dead. “A few days before this awful event, he had asked Sir John Hawkins, as one of his executors, where he should be buried; and on being answered, ‘Doubtless in Westminster Abbey,’ seemed to feel a satisfaction very natural to a poet, and indeed very natural to every man of any imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be laid with his fathers. Accordingly, upon Monday, December 20, his remains were deposited in that noble and renowned edifice; and over his grave was placed a large blue flag stone, with this inscription: SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D. Obiit xiii die Decembris, Anno Domini M. DCC. LXXXIV. Ætatis suæ LXXV. “His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends, particularly by many of the members of the Literary Club, who were then in town; and was also honoured by the presence of several of the reverend chapter of Westminster. His school-fellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the service.” * * * * * * * * * A STRIKING SPECIMEN OF INDIAN ELOQUENCE, _In a Speech of the Chief of the Mickmakis or Maricheets Savages, dependent on the government of Cape Breton._ When all the peltry of the beasts killed in the enemy’s country, (with whom they are about to declare war) is piled in a heap, the oldest samago, or chieftain of the assembly, gets up and asks what weather it is? is the sky clear? does the sun shine? On being answered in the affirmative, he orders the young men to carry the pile of peltry to a rising ground or eminence, at some little distance from the field or place of assembly. As this is instantly done, he follows them, and as he walks along, begins and continues his address to the sun in the following terms: