With the exception of some political pamphlets, an account of his Scottish tour, and a series of _Lives of the Poets_, he wrote little of importance after 1762, comparing himself to a soldier who has fought a good many campaigns and is not to be blamed for retiring to ease and tranquillity. BOSWELL. 'But I wonder, Sir, you have not more pleasure in writing than in not writing.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you _may_ wonder.' FOOTNOTES: [5] This Saturday was in fact 14 March. [6] Johnson originally wrote _garret_, but, after his treatment by Lord Chesterfield, altered it to _patron_. [7] This is now disputed, as it has been shown that there are in the second edition many variations from the original text. [8] This was omitted in later editions and the following version retained: "A slave of state hired by a stipend to obey his master." See also the lines quoted from _London_, page 22. [9] The Prime Minister. [10] The degree of Doctor of Laws was conferred on him by the University of Dublin in 1765 and by the University of Oxford in 1775. _Johnson's Household_ So far we have seen little of Johnson's domestic life. He was happiest in a club or a tavern and, in the early days of struggle, home was not much more for him than the place where he sat down to write for a living. In his garret, which he considered as his library, a visitor would find "about five or six Greek folios, a deal writing-desk, and a chair and a half. Johnson giving to his guest the entire seat, tottered himself on one with only three legs and one arm." But the household which he gradually gathered round him was a remarkable one. Of Mrs Johnson's life in London we do not know much; but Johnson, being slovenly in his habits and cantankerous about his food, was bound to have "little disagreements" with a tidy housewife. "My wife" he told Mrs Thrale "had a particular reverence for cleanliness, and desired the praise of neatness in her dress and furniture, as many ladies do, till they become troublesome to their best friends, slaves to their own besoms, and only sigh for the hour of sweeping their husbands out of the house as dirt and useless lumber." When asked whether he ever "huffed his wife about his dinner," he replied: "So often that at last she called to me, and said, 'Nay, hold, Mr Johnson, and do not make a farce of thanking God for a dinner which in a few minutes you will protest not eatable.'" Sometimes she would get tired of the dirt and poverty of Fleet Street and stay for a time at Hampstead; but she could appreciate her husband's work and of Johnson's fondness for "his dear Tetty" there can be no doubt. She died in March 1752, when Johnson had just finished the last number of _The Rambler_ and was still in the middle of his labours on the Dictionary. Here is the letter he wrote on the following day to his friend, Dr Taylor: "DEAR SIR, Let me have your company and instruction. Do not live away from me. My distress is great.