Now for this morning's breakfast.

Dr. Johnson, as usual, came last into the library ; he was in high spirits, and full of mirth and sport. I had the honour of sitting next to him: and now, all at once, he flung aside his reserve, thinking, perhaps, that it was time I should fling aside mine.

Mrs. Thrale told him that she intended taking me to Mr. T—'s.

"So you ought, madam," cried he; "'tis your business to be Cicerone to her."

Then suddenly he snatched my hand, and kissing it, "Ah!" he added, "they will little think what a tartar you carry to them!"

"No, that they won't!" cried Mrs. Thrale; "Miss Burney looks so meek and so quiet, nobody would suspect what a comical girl she is - but I believe she has a great deal of malice at heart."

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"Oh, she's a toad!" cried the doctor, laughing—"a sly young rogue! with her Smiths and her Branghtons!"

"Why, Dr. Johnson said Mrs. Thrale, "I hope you are well this morning! if one may judge by your spirits and good humour, the fever you threatened us with is gone off."

He had complained that he was going to be ill last night.

"Why no, madam, no," answered he, " "I am not yet well. I could not sleep at all; there I lay, restless and uneasy, and thinking all the time of Miss Burney. Perhaps I have offended. her, thought I; perhaps she is angry - I have seen her but once and I talked to her of a rasher!—Were you angry?"

I think I need not tell you my answer.

"I have been endeavouring to find some excuse," continued he, "and, as I could not sleep, I got up, and looked for some authority for the word; and I find, madam, it is used by Dryden: in one of his prologues, he says—'And snatch a homely rasher from the coals.' So You must not mind me, madam; I say strange things, but I mean no harm."

I was almost afraid he thought I was really idiot enough to have taken him seriously; but, a few minutes after, he put his hand on my arm, and shaking his head, exclaimed, "Oh, you are a sly little rogue!—what a Holborn beau have you drawn!"

"Ay, Miss Burney," said Mrs, Thrale, "the Holborn beau is Dr Johnson's favourite ; and we have all your characters by heart, from Mr. Smith up to Lady Louisa."

"Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith is the man !" cried he, laughing violently. "Harry Fielding never drew so good a character!— such a fine varnish of low politeness!—such a struggle to appear a gentleman! Madam, there is no character better drawn anywhere—in any book or by any author."

I almost poked myself under the table. Never did I feel so delicious a confusion since I was born ! But he added a great deal more, only I cannot recollect his exact words, and I do not choose to give him mine.

About noon when I went into the library, book hunting, Mrs. Thrale came to me. We had a very nice confab about various books, and exchanged opinions and imitations of Baretti; she told me many excellent tales of him, and I, in return, related my stories.

She gave me a long and very entertaining account of Dr. Goldsmith, who was intimately known here; but in speaking of "The Good-natured Man," when I extolled my favourite 84

Croaker, I found that admirable character was a downright theft from Dr. Johnson. Look at "The Rambler," and you will find Suspirius is the man, and that not merely the idea, but the particulars of the character, are all stolen thence!(48)

While we were yet reading this "Rambler," Dr. Johnson came in: we told him what we were about.

"Ah, madam," cried he, "Goldsmith was not scrupulous but he would have been a great man had he known the real value of his own internal resources."

"Miss Burney," said Mrs. Thrale, "is fond of his 'Vicar of Wakefield.' and so am I;—don't you like it, sir?"

" No, madam, it is very faulty ; there is nothing of real life in it, and very little of nature. It is a mere fanciful performance."

He then seated himself upon a sofa, and calling to me, said Come,—Evelina,—come and sit by me."

I obeyed; and he took me almost in his arms,—that is, one of his arms, for one would go three times, at least, round me, -and, half laughing, half serious, he charged me to "be a good girl!"

"But, my dear," continued he with a very droll look, "what makes you so fond of the Scotch? I don't like you for that;—I hate these Scotch, and so must you. I wish Branghton had sent the dog to jail! That Scotch dog Macartney."

"Why, sir," said Mrs. Thrale, " don't you remember he says he would, but that he should get nothing by it?"

" Why, ay, true," cried the doctor, see-sawing very solemnly, "that, indeed, is some palliation for his forbearance. But I must not have you so fond of the Scotch, my little Burney; make your hero what you will but a Scotchman. Besides, you write Scotch—you say 'the one'—my dear, that's not English, Never use that phrase again."

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Thrale, "it may be used in Macartney's letter, and then it will be a propriety."

"No, madam, no!" cried he; "you can't make a beauty of it - it is in the third volume; put it in Macartney's letter, and welcome— that, or any thing that is nonsense."

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"Why, surely," cried I, "the poor man is used ill enough by the Branghtons."

"But Branghton," said he, "only hates him because of his wretchedness—poor fellow!—But, my dear love, how should he ever have eaten a good dinner before he came to England? And then he laughed violently at young Branghton's idea.

"Well," said Mrs. Thrale, "I always liked Macartney; he is a very pretty character, and I took to him, as the folks say." " Why, madam," answered he, "I like Macartney myself. yes, poor fellow, I liked the man, but I love not the nation." And then he proceeded, in a dry manner, to make at once sarcastic reflections on the Scotch, and flattering speeches to me.(49)

DR. JOHNSON ON SOME "LADIES" OF HIS ACQUAINTANCE

Saturday.—Dr. Johnson was again all himself; and so civil to me!—even admiring how I dressed myself! Indeed, it is well I have so much of his favour - for it seems he always speaks his mind concerning the dress of ladies, and all ladies who are here obey his injunctions implicitly, and alter whatever he disapproves. This is a part of his character that much surprises me: but notwithstanding he is sometimes so absent, and always so near sighted, he scrutinizes into every part of almost everybody's appearance. They tell me of a Miss Brown, who often visits here, and who has a slovenly way of dressing. "And when she comes down in a morning," says Mrs. Thrale, "her hair will be all loose, and her cap half off; and then Dr. Johnson, who sees something is wrong, and does not know where the fault is, concludes it is in the cap, and says, "My dear, what do you wear such a vile cap for?" "I'll change it, Sir!" cries the poor girl, "if you don't like it." Ay, do,'he says; and away runs poor Miss Brown; but when she gets on another, it's the same thing, for the cap has nothing to do with the fault. And then she wonders Dr. Johnson should not like the cap, for she thinks it very pretty. And so on with her gown, which he also makes her change; but if the poor girl 86

were to change through all her wardrobe, unless she could put her things on better, he would still find fault."

When Dr. Johnson was gone, she told me of my mother's(50) being obliged to change her dress.

"Now," said she " Mrs. Burney had on a very pretty linen jacket and coat, and was going to church; but Dr. Johnson, who, I suppose, did not like her in a jacket, saw something was the matter, and so found fault with the linen: and he looked and peered, and then said, 'Why, madam, this won't do! you must not go to church so!' So away went poor Mrs. Burney, and changed her gown! And when she had done so, he did not like it, but he did not know why, so he told her she should not wear a black hat and cloak in summer! "How he did bother poor Mrs. Burney! and himself too, for if the things had been put on to his mind, he would have taken no notice of them."

"Why," said Mr. Thrale, very drily, "I don't think Mrs. Burney a very good dresser."

"Last time she came," said Mrs. Thrale, "she was in a white cloak, and she told Dr. Johnson she had got her old white cloak scoured on purpose to oblige him! 'Scoured!' says he; 'ay, have you, madam?'—so he see-sawed, for he could not for shame find fault, but he did not seem to like the scouring.'

And now let me try to recollect an account he gave of certain celebrated ladies of his acquaintance: an account in which, had you heard it from himself, would have made you die with laughing, his manner is so peculiar, and enforces his humour so originally. It was begun by Mrs. Thrale's apologising to him for troubling him with some question she thought trifling—O, I remember! We had been talking of colours, and of the fantastic names given to them, and why the palest lilac should b called a soupir 'etouff'e; and when Dr. Johnson came in, she applied to him.

"Why, madam," said he, with wonderful readiness, "it is called a stifled sigh because it is checked in its progress, and only half a colour."

I could not help expressing my amazement at his universal readiness upon all subjects, and Mrs. Thrale said to him, "Sir, Miss Burney wonders at your patience with such stuff, but I tell her you are used to me, for I believe I torment you with more foolish questions than anybody else dares do."

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"No, madam," said he; 'you don't torment me;—you teaze me, indeed, sometimes."

"Ay, so I do, Dr. Johnson, and I wonder you bear with my nonsense."

No, madam, you never talk nonsense; you have as much sense and more wit, than any woman I know."

"Oh," cried Mrs. Thrale, blushing, "it is my turn to go under the table this morning, Miss Burney!"

"And yet," continued the doctor, with the most comical look, "I have known all the wits, from Mrs. Montagu down to Bet Flint."

"Bet Flint cried Mrs. Thrale -pray, who is she?"

"Such a fine character, madam! She was habitually a slut and a drunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot."

"And, for heaven's sake, how came you to know her?"

"Why, madam, she figured in the literary world, too! Bet Flint wrote her own life, and called herself Cassandra, and it was in verse;—it began:

'When Nature first ordained my birth, A diminutive I was born on earth: And then I came from a dark abode, Into a gay and gaudy world.'(51)

So Bet brought me her verses to correct; but I gave her half-a-crown, and she liked it as well. Bet had a fine spirit;— she advertised for a husband, but she had no success, for she told me no man aspired to her! Then she hired very handsome lodgings and a footboy; and she got a harpsichord, but Bet could not play; however, she put herself in fine attitudes, and drummed."

Then he gave an account of another of these geniuses, who called herself by some fine name, I have forgotten what.

"She had not quite the same stock of virtue," continued he, "nor the same stock of honesty as Bet Flint; but I suppose she envied her accomplishments, for she was so little moved by the power of harmony, that while Bet Flint thought she was drumming very divinely, the other jade had her indicted for a nuisance!"

"And pray what became of her, sir?

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"Why, madam, she stole a quilt from the man of the house, and he had her taken up: but Bet Flint had a spirit not to be subdued; so when she found herself obliged to go to jail, she ordered a sedan chair, and bid her footboy walk before her. However, the boy proved refractory, for he was ashamed, though his mistress was not.""

"And did she ever get out of jail again, sir?" "Yes, madam; when she came to her trial the judge acquitted her. 'So now,' she said to me, 'the quilt is MY own, and now I'll make a petticoat of it.' Oh, I loved Bet Flint!"(52)

Oh, how we all laughed! Then he gave an account of another lady, who called herself Laurinda, and who also wrote verses and stole furniture; but he had not the same affection for her, he said, though she too "was a lady who had high notions of honour."

Then followed the history of another, who called herself Hortensia, and who walked up and down the park repeating a book of Virgil. But," said he " "though I know her story, I never had the good fortune to see her."

After this he gave us an account of the famous Mrs. Pinkethman: "And she," he said, "told me she owed all her misfortunes to her wit; for she was so unhappy as to marry a man who thought himself also a wit, though I believe she gave him not implicit credit for it, but it occasioned much contradiction and ill-will."

"Bless me, sir," cried Mrs. Thrale, "how can all these vagabonds contrive to get at you, of all people?"

"O the dear creatures!" cried he, laughing heartily, "I can't but be glad to see them."

"Why, I wonder, sir, you never went to see Mrs. Rudd,(53) among the rest."

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"Why, madam, I believe I should," said he, "if it was not for the newspapers; but I am prevented many frolics that I should like very well, since I am become such a theme for the papers."

Now, would you ever have imagined this? Bet Flint, it seems, took Kitty Fisher(54) to see him, but to his no little regret he was not at home. "And Mrs. Williams,"(55) he added, "did not love Bet Flint, but Bet Flint made herself very easy about that."

A LEARNED MAN ON "EVELINA."

When we were dressed for dinner, and went into the parlour, we had the agreeable surprise of seeing Mr. Seward. There was also Mr. Lort,(56) who is reckoned one of the most learned men alive, and is also a collector of curiosities,, alike in literature and natural history. His manners are somewhat blunt and odd, and he is altogether out of the common road, without having chosen a better path.

The day was passed most agreeably. In the evening we had, as usual, a literary conversation. Mr. Lort produced several curious MSS. of the famous Bristol Chatterton; among others, his will, and divers verses written against Dr. Johnson, as a placeman and pensioner; all of which he read aloud, with a steady voice and unmoved countenance.

I was astonished at him; Mrs. Thrale not much pleased; Mr. Thrale silent and attentive; and Mr. Seward was slily laughing. Dr. johnson himself listened profoundly and laughed openly. Indeed, I believe he wishes his abusers no other Thiing than a good dinner, like Pope.(57)

Just as we had got our biscuits and toast-and-water, which make the Streatham supper, and which, indeed, is all there is any chance of eating after our late and great dinners, Mr. Lort suddenly said,

"Pray, ma'am, have you heard anything of a novel that runs about a good deal, called 'Evelina'?"

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What a ferment did this question, before such a set, Put me in! I did not know whether he spoke to me, or Mrs. Thrale, and Mrs. Thrale was in the same doubt, and as she owned, felt herself in a little palpitation for me, not knowing what might come next, Between us both, therefore, he had no answer. "It has been recommended to me," continued he; "but I have no great desire to see it, because it has such a foolish name. Yet I have heard a great deal of it, too."

He then repeated "Evelina"—in a very languishing and ridiculous tone.

My heart beat so quick against my stays that I almost panted with extreme agitation, from the dread either of hearing some horrible criticism, or of being betrayed: and I munched my biscuit as if I had not eaten for a fortnight.

I believe the whole party were in some little consternation Dr. Johnson began see-sawing; Mr. Thrale awoke; Mr. E—' who I fear has picked up some notion of the affair from being so much in the house, grinned amazingly; and Mr. Seward, biting his nails and flinging himself back in his chair, I am sure had wickedness enough to enjoy the whole scene.

Mrs. Thrale was really a little fluttered, but without looking at me, said, "And pray what, Mr. Lort, what have you heard of it?"

"Why they say," answered he, "that it's an account of a young lady's first entrance into company, and of the scrapes she gets into; and they say there's a great deal of character in it, but I have not cared to look in it, because the name is so foolish- -'Evelina'!"

"Why foolish, sir?" cried Dr. Johnson. "Where's the folly of it?"

"Why, I won't say much for the name myself," said Mrs. Thrale, "to those who don't know the reason of it, which I found out, but which nobody else seems to know." She then explained the name from Evelyn, according to my own meaning.

"Well," said Dr. Johnson, " if that was the reason, it is a very good one."

"Why, have you had the book here?" cried Mr. Lort, staring.

"Ay, indeed, have we," said Mrs. Thrale; "I read it When I was last confined, and I laughed over it, and I cried over it!"

"O ho!" said Mr. Lort, "this is another thing! If you have had it here, I will certainly read it."

"Had it? ay," returned she; "and Dr. Johnson, who would

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not look at it at first, was so caught by it when I put it in the coach with him, that he has sung its praises ever since,—and he says Richardson would have been proud to have written it."

"O ho! this is a good hearing," cried Mr. Lort; "if Dr. Johnson can read it, I shall get it with all speed."

"You need not go far for it," said Mrs. Thrale, "for it's now upon yonder table."

I could sit still no longer; there was something so awkward, so uncommon, so strange in my then situation, that I wished myself a hundred miles off, and indeed, I had almost choked myself with the biscuit, for I could not for my life swallow it: and so I got up, and, as Mr. Lort wen to the table to look for "Evelina," I left the room, and was forced to call for water to wash down the biscuit, which literally stuck in my throat.

I heartily wished Mr. Lort at jerusalem. I did not much like going back, but the moment I recovered breath, I resolved not to make bad worse by staying longer away: but at the door of the room, I met Mrs. Thrale, who, asking me if I would have some water, took me into a back room, and burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"This is very good sport," cried she; "the man is as innocent about the matter as a child, and we shall hear what he says about it to-morrow morning at breakfast. I made a sign to Dr. Jonnson and Seward not to tell him."

she found I was not in a humour to think it such good sport as she did, she grew more serious,. and taking my hand kindly said, "May you never, Miss Burney, know any other pain than that of hearing yourself praised! and I am sure that you must often feel."

When I told her how much I dreaded being discovered, and beggt her not to betray me any further, she again began laughing, and openly declared she should not consult me about the matter. But she told me that, as soon as I had left the room, when Mr. Lort took up "Evelina," he exclaimed contemptuously "Why, it's printed for Lowndes!" and that Dr. Johnson then told him there were things and characters in it more than worthy of Fielding. "Oh ho!" cried Mr. Lort; "what, is it better than Fielding?" "Harry Fielding," answered Dr. Johnson, "knew nothing but the shell of life."

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"So you, ma'am," added the flattering Mrs. Thrale, "have found the kernel."

Are they all mad? or do they only want to make me so

CURIOSITY REGARDING THE AUTHOR OF "EVELINA."

Streatham, Sept.— Our Monday's intended great party was very small, for people are so dispersed at present in Various quarters: we had, therefore, only Sir Joshua Reynolds, two Miss Palmers, Dr. Calvert, Mr. Rose Fuller, and Lady Ladd.(58) Dr. Johnson did not return.

Sir Joshua I am much pleased with: I like his ccountenance, and I like his manners; the former I think expressive, and sensible; the latter gentle, unassuming, and engaging.

The dinner, in quantity as well as quality, would have sufficed for forty people. Sir Joshua said, when the dessert appeared, "Now if all the company should take a fancy to the same dish, there would be sufficient for all the company from any one."

After dinner, as usual, we strolled out: I ran first into the hall for my cloak-, and Mrs. Thrale, running after me, said in a low voice,

"If you are taxed with 'Evelina,' don't own it; I intend to say it is mine, for sport's sake."

You may think how much I was surprised, and how readily I agreed not to own it; but I could ask no questions, for the two Miss Palmers followed close, saying,

"Now pray, ma'am, tell us who it is?"

"No, no," cried Mrs. Thrale, "who it is, you must find out. I have told you that you dined with the author; but the rest you must make out as you can."

Miss Thrale began tittering violently, but I entreated her not to betray me; and, as soon as I could, I got Mrs. Thrale to tell me what all this meant. She then acquainted me, that, when she first came into the parlour, she found them all busy in talking of "Evelina," and heard that Sir Joshua had declared he would give fifty pounds to know the author!

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"Well," said Mrs. Thrale, "thus much, then, I Will tell you; the author will dine with you to-day."

They were then all distracted to know the party.

"Why," said she, "we shall have Dr. Calvert, Lady Ladd, Rose Fuller, and Miss Burney."

"Miss Burney?" quoth they, "which Miss Burney?"

"Why, the eldest, Miss Fanny Burney; and so out of this list you must make out the author."

I shook my head at her, but begged her, at least, to go no further.

"No, no," cried she, laughing, "leave me alone; the fun will be to make them think it me."

Howeverp as I learnt at night, when they were gone, Sir Joshua was so very importunate with Mr. Thrale, and attacked him with such eagerness, that he made him confess who it was, as soon as the ladies retired.

Well, to return to our walk. The Miss Palmers grew more and more urgent.

"Did we indeed," said the eldest, "dine with the author of 'Evelina?'"

"Yes, in good truth did you."

"Why then, ma'am, it was yourself."

"I shan't tell you whethir it was or not; but were there not other people at dinner besides me? What think you of Dr. Calvert?"

"Dr. Calvert? no! no; I am sure it was not he: besides, they say it was certainly written by a woman."

"By a woman? nay, then, is not here Lady Ladd, and Miss Burney, and Hester?"(59)

"Lady Ladd I am sure it was not, nor could it be Miss Thrale's. O maam! I begin to think it was really yours! Now, was it not, Mrs. Thrale?"

Mrs. Thrale only laughed.

"A lady of our acquaintance," said Miss Palmer, "Mrs. Cholmondeley, went herself to the printer, but he would not tell."

"Would he not?" cried Mrs. Thrale, "why, then, he's an honest man."

"Oh, is he so?—nay, then, it is certainly Mrs. Thrale's."

"well, well, I told you before I should not deny it."

"Miss Burney," said she, "pray do you deny it?" in a

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voice that seemed to say,—I must ask round, though rather from civility than suspicion.

"Me?" cried I, "well no: if nobody else will deny it, why should I? It does not seem the fashion to deny it."

"No, in truth," cried she; "I believe nobody would think of denying it that could claim it, for it is the sweetest book in the world. My uncle could not go to bed till he had finished it, and he says he is sure he shall make love to the author, if ever he meets with her, and it should really be a woman!"

"Dear madam," cried Miss Offy, "I am sure it was you but why will you not own it at once?"

"I shall neither own nor deny anything about it."

"A gentleman whom we know very well," said Miss Palmer, "when he could learn nothing at the printer's, took the trouble to go all about Snow Hill, to see if he could find any silversmith's." "Well, he was a cunning creature!" said Mrs. Thrale; "but Dr. Johnson's favourite is Mr. Smith."

"So he is of everybody," answered she: "he and all that family; everybody says Such a family never was drawn before. But Mrs. Cholmondeley's favourite is Madame Duval; she acts her from morning to night, and ma-foi's everybody she sees. But though we all want so much to know the author, both Mrs. Cholmondeley and my uncle himself say they should be frightened to death to be in her company, because she must be such a very nice observer, that there would be no escaping her with safety."

What strange ideas are taken from mere book-reading! But what follows gave me the highest delight I can feel.

"Mr. Burke,"(60) she continued, "doats on it: he began it one morning at seven o'clock, and could not leave it a moment; he sat up all night reading it. He says he has not seen such a book he can't tell when."

Mrs. Thrale gave me involuntarily a look of congratulation, and could not forbear exclaiming, "How glad she was Mr. Burke approved it!" This served to confirm the Palmers in their mistake, and they now, without further questioning, quietly and unaffectedly concluded the book to be really Mrs. Thrale's and Miss Palmer said,—"Indeed, ma'am, you Ought to write a novel every year: nobody can write like you!"

I was both delighted and diverted at this mistake, and they 95

grew so easy and so satisfied under it, that the conversation dropped, and offy went to the harpsichord.

Not long after, the party broke up, and they took leave. I had no conversation with Sir Joshua all day; but I found myself more an object of attention to him than I wished; and he several times spoke to me, though he did not make love!

When they rose to take leave, Miss Palmer, with the air of asking the greatest of favours, hoped to see me when I returned to town; and Sir Joshua, approaching me with the most profound respect, inquired how long I should remain at Streatham? A week, I believed: and then he hoped, when I left it, they should have the honour of seeing me in Leicester Square.(61)

In short, the joke is, the people speak as if they were afraid of me, instead of my being afraid of them. It seems, when they got to the door, Miss Palmer said to Mrs. Thrale,

"Ma'am, so it's Miss Burney after all!"

"Ay, sure," answered she, "who should it be?"

"Ah! why did not you tell us sooner?" said Offy, "that we might have had a little talk about it?"

Here, therefore, end all my hopes of secrecy!



THE MEMBERS OF DR. JOHNSON'S HOUSEHOLD.

At tea-time the subject turned upon the domestic economy "' of Dr. Johnson's household. Mrs. Thrale has often acquainted me that his house is quite filled and overrun with all sorts of strange creatures, whom he admits for mere charity, and because nobody else will admit them,—for his charity is unbounded; or, rather, bounded only by his circumstances.

The account he gave of the adventures and absurdities of the set, was highly diverting, but too diffused for writing—though one or two speeches I must give. I think I shall occasionally theatricalise my dialogues.

Mrs. Thrale-Pray, Sir, how does Mrs. Williams like all this tribe?

Johnson-Madam, she does not like them at all: but their fondness for her is not greater. She and De Mullin(62)

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quarrel incessantly; but as they can both be occasionally of service to each other, and as neither of them have a place to go to, their animMOSity does not force them to separate.

Mrs. T.-And pray, sir, what is Mr. Macbean?(63)

Dr. J.-Madam, he is a Scotchman: he is a man of great learning, and for his learning I respect him, and I wish to serve him. He knows many languages, and knows them well; but he knows nothing of life. I advised him to write a geographical dictionary; but I have lost all hopes of his doing anything properly, since I found he gave as much labour to Capua as to Rome.

Mr. T.-And pray who is clerk of your kitchen, sir?

Dr. J.-Why, sir, I am afraid there is none; a general anarchy prevails in my kitchen, as I am told by Mr. Levat,(64) who says it is not now what it used to be!

Mrs. T.-Mr. Levat, I suppose, sir, has the office of keeping the hospital in health? for he Is an apothecary.

Dr. J.-Levat, madam, is a brutal fellow, but I have a good regard for him; for his brutality is in his manners, not his mind.

Mr. T.-But how do you get your dinners drest ?

Dr. J.-Why De Mullin has the chief management of the kitchen; but our roasting is not magnificent, for we hav no jack.

Mr. T.-No jack? Why, how do they manage without?

Dr. J.-Small joints, I believe, they manage with a string, larger are done at the tavern. I have some thoughts (with profound gravity) of buying a jack, because I think a jack is some credit to a house.

Mr. T.-Well, but you'll have a spit, too?

Dr. J.-No, sir, no; that would be superfluous; for we shall never use it; and if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed!

Mrs. T.-But pray, sir, who is the Poll you talk of? She 97 that you used to abet in her quarrels with Mrs. Williams, and call out, "At her again, Poll! Never flinch, Poll>"(65)

Dr. J.-Why, I took to Poll very well at first, but she won't do upon a nearer examination.

Mrs. T.-How came she among you, sir?

Dr. J.-Why I don't rightly remember, but we could spare her very well from us. Poll is a stupid slut; I had some hopes of her at first; but when I talked to her tightly and closely, I could make nothing of her; she was wiggle waggle, and I could never persuade her to be categorical, I wish Miss Burney would come among us; if she would Only give US a week, we should furnish her with ample materials for a new scene in her next work.

ANTICIPATED VISIT FROM MRS. MONTAGU.

("The great Mrs. Montagu" deserves a somewhat longer notice than can be conveniently compressed within the limits of a footnote. She was as indisputably, in public estimation, the leading literary lady of the time, as Johnson was the leading man of letters. Her maiden name was Elizabeth Robinson. She was born at York in the year 1720, and married, in 1742, Edward Montagu, grandson of the first Earl of Sandwich. Her husband's death, in 1775, left her in the possession of a handsome fortune. Mrs. Montagu's literary celebrity was by no means dearly bought, for it rested, almost exclusively, on her "Essay on the Writings and Genius of Shakespear," published by Dodsley in 1769. Indeed, the only other writings which she committed to the press were three "Dialogues of the Dead," appended to the Well-known "Dialogues" of her friend, Lord Lyttelton. The "Essay" is an elegantly written little work, superficial when regarded in the light of modern criticism, but marked by good sense and discrimination. One of the chief objects of the authoress was to defend Shakespeare against the strictures of Voltaire, and in this not very difficult task she has undoubtedly succeeded. Johnson's opinion of the "Essay" was unfavourable. To Sir Joshua Reynolds's remark, that it did honour to its authoress, he replied: "Yes Sir: it does her honour, but it would do nobody else honour;" and he goes on to observe that "there is not one sentence of true criticism in the book." But if the

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general applause which the book had excited was out of all proportion to its merits, Johnson's unqualified condemnation was more than equally disproportionate to its defects.

Of Mrs. Montagu's conversational abilities Johnson entertained a higher opinion. " Sir," he would say, "that lady exerts more mind in conversation than any person I ever met with" (Miss Reynolds's Recollections). It was probably, indeed, to the fame of her conversation, and of the has biem parties which assembled at her house, that she owed the greater part of her reputation. She was the acknowledged " Queen of the Blue Stockings,, although the epithet originated with a rival giver of literary parties, Mrs. Vesey, who, replying to the apology of a gentleman who declined an invitation to one of her meetings on the plea of want of dress, exclaimed, "Pho, pho! don't mind dress! Come in your blue stockings!" The term "Blue Stocking" (bas bleu) was thenceforward applied to the set which met at Mrs. Vesey's, and was gradually extended to other coteries of similar character.

The charitable and beneficient disposition of Mrs. Montagu was as notorious as her intellectual superiority. It may be interesting here to observe that after her husband's death, in 1775, she doubled the income of poor Anna Williams, the blind poetess who resided with Dr. Johnson, by settling upon her an annuity of ten pounds. The publication of Johnson's "Lives of the Poets," in 1781, occasioned a coolness between the doctor and Mrs. Montagu, on account of the severity with which, in that work, he had handled the character of Lord Lyttelton. In September, 1783, however, Dr. Johnson wrote to the lady to announce the death of her pensioner, Miss Williams; and shortly afterwards he informs Mrs. Thrale that he has received a reply "not only civil but tender; so I hope peace is proclaimed." Mrs. Montagu died at her house in Portman Square, in the year 1800.-ED.]

I was looking over the " Life of Cowley," which Dr. Johnson had himself given me to read, at the same time that he gave to Mrs. Thrale that of Waller.' But he bade me put it away.

"Do," cried he, "put away that now, and prattle with us; I can't make this little Burney prattle, and I am sure she prattles well; but I shall teach her another lesson than to sit thus silent before I have done with her."

"To talk," cried I, "is the only lesson I shall be backward to learn from you, sir."

"You shall give me," cried he, "a discourse upon the passions: come, begin! Tell us the necessity of regulating them

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Watching over and curbing them! Did you ever read Norris's "Theory of Love?"(67)

"No, sir," said I, laughing, yet staring a little.

Dr. J.-It is well worth your reading. He will make you see that inordinate love is the root of all evil" inordinate love of wealth brings on avarice; of wine, brings on intemperance; of power, brings on cruelty; and so on. He deduces from inordinate love all human frailty."

Mrs. T.-To-morrow, sir, Mrs. Montagu dines here, and then you will have talk enough.

Dr. Johnson began to see-saw, with a countenance strongly expressive of inward fun, and after enjoying it Some time in silence, he suddenly, and with great animation, turned to me and cried,

"Down with her, Burney!—down with her!—spare her not!—attack her, fight her, and down with her at once! You are a rising wit, and she is at the top; and when I was beginning the world, and was nothing and nobody, the joy of my life was to fire at all the established wits! and then everybody loved to halloo me on. But there is no game now; every body would be glad to see me conquered: but then, when I was new, to vanquish the great ones was all the delight of my poor little dear soul! So at her, Burney—at her, and down with her!"

Oh, how we were all amused! By the way I must tell you that Mrs. Montagu is in very great estimation here, even with Dr. Johnson himself, when others do not praise her improperly. Mrs. Thrale ranks her as the first of women in the literary way. I should have told you that Miss Gregory, daughter of the Gregory who wrote the "Letters," or, "Legacy of Advice," lives with Mrs. Montagu, and was invited to accompany her.(68)

"Mark now," said Dr. Johnson, "if I contradict her tomorrow. I am determined, let her say what she will, that I will not contradict her."

Mrs. T.-Why, to be sure, sir, you did put her a little out Of countenance the last time she came. Yet you were neither rough, nor cruel, nor ill-natured, but still, when a lady changes colour, we imagine her feelings are not quite composed.

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Dr. j.-Why, madam, I won't answer that I shan't Contradict her again, if she provokes me as she did then ; but a less provocation I will withstand. I believe I am not high in her good graces already ; and I begin (added he, laughing heartily), to tremble for my admission into her new house. I doubt I shall never see the inside of it.

(Mrs. Montagu is building a most superb house.)(69)

Mrs. T.-Oh, I warrant you, she fears you, indeed; but that, you know, is nothing uncommon: and dearly I love to hear your disquisitions; for certainly she is the first woman for literary knowledge in England, and if in England, I hope I may say in the world.

Dr. J.-I believe you may, madam. She diffuses more knowledge in her conversation than any woman I know, or, indeed, almost any man. Mrs. T.-I declare I know no man equal to her, take away yourself and Burke, for that art. And you who love magnificence, won't quarrel with her, as everybody else does, for her love of finery.

Dr. J.-No, I shall not quarrel with her upon that topic.



FANNY BURNEY'S INTRODUCTION TO A CELEBRATED "BLUE-STOCKING."

Wednesday.-We could not prevail with Dr. Johnson to stay till Mrs. Montagu arrived, though, by appointment, she came very early. She and Miss Gregory came by one o'clock.

There was no party to meet her. She is middle-sized, very thin, and looks infirm ; she has a sensible and penetrating countenance, and the air and manner of a woman accustomed to being distinguished, and of great parts. Dr. Johnson, who agrees in this, told us that a Mrs. Hervey, of his acquaintance, says she can remember Mrs. Montagu trying for this same air and manner. Mr. Crisp has said the same: however, nobody can now impartially see her, and not confess that she has extremely well succeeded.

My expectations, which were compounded of the praise of Mrs. Thrale, and the abuse of Mr. Crisp, were most exactly, answered, for I thought her in a medium way.

Miss Gregory is a fine young woman, and seems gentle and well-bred. A bustle with the dog Presto—Mrs. Thrale's favourite—a t

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the entrance of these ladies into the library, prevented any formal reception; but as soon as Mrs. Montagu heard my name, she inquired very civilly after my father, and made many speeches concerning a volume of "Linguet,"(70) which she has lost; but she hopes soon to be able to replace it. I am sure he is very high in her favour, because she did me the honour of addressing herself to me three or four times.

But my ease and tranquillity were soon disturbed: for she had not been in the room more than ten minutes, ere, turning to Mrs. Thrale, she said,

"Oh, ma'am—but your 'Evelina'—I have not yet got it. I sent for it, but the bookseller had it not. However, I will certainly have it."

"Ay, I hope so," answered Mrs. Thrale, "and I hope you Will like it too; for 'tis a book to be liked."

I began now a vehement nose-blowing, for the benefit of handkerchiefing my face. "

I hope though," said Mrs. Montagu, drily, "it is not in verse? I can read anything in prose, but I have a great dread of a long story in verse."

"No, ma'am, no; 'tis all in prose, I assure you. 'Tis a novel; and an exceeding—but it does nothing good to be praised too much, so I will say nothing more about it: only this, that Mr. Burke sat up all night to read it."

" Indeed? Well, I propose myself great pleasure from it and I am gratified by hearing it is written by a woman."

"And Sir Joshua Reynolds," continued Mrs. Thrale, "has been offering fifty pounds to know the author."

"Well, I will have it to read on my journey; I am going to Berkshire, and it shall be my travelling book."

" No, ma'am if you please you shall have it now. Queeny, do look it for Mrs. Montagu, and let it be put in her carriage, and go to town with her."

Miss Thrale rose to look for it, and involuntarily I rose too, intending to walk off, for my situation was inexpressibly awkward; but then I recollected that if I went away, it might seem like giving Mrs. Thrale leave and opportunity to tell my tale, and therefore I stopped at a distant window, where I busied myself in contemplating the poultry.

"And Dr. Johnson, ma'am," added my kind puffer, "says

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Fielding never wrote so well—never wrote equal to this book; he says it is a better picture of life and manners than is to be found anywhere in Fielding."

"Indeed?" cried Mrs. Montagu, surprised; "that I did not expect, for I have been informed it is the work of a young lady and therefore, though I expected a very pretty book, I supposed it to be a work of mere imagination, and the name I thought attractive; but life and manners I never dreamt of finding."

"Well, ma'am, what I tell you is literally true; and for my part, I am never better pleased than when good girls write clever books—and that this is clever—But all this time we are killing Miss Burney, who wrote the book herself."

What a clap of thunder was this !-the last thing in the world I should have expected before my face? I know not what bewitched Mrs. Thrale, but this was carrying the jest further than ever. All retenu being now at an end, I fairly and abruptly took to my heels, and ran out of the room with the utmost trepidation, amidst astonished exclamations from Mrs, Montagu and Miss Gregory.

I was horribly disconcerted, but I am now so irrecoverably in for it, that I begin to leave off reproaches and expostulations; indeed, they have very little availed me while they might have been of service, but now they would pass for mere parade and affectation; and therefore since they can do no good, I gulp them down. I find them, indeed, somewhat hard of digestion, but they must make their own way as well as they can.

I determined not to make my appearance again till dinner was upon table; yet I could neither read nor write, nor indeed do any thing but consider the new situation in life into which I am thus hurried—I had almost said forced—and if I had, methinks it would be no untruth.

Miss Thrale came laughing up after me, and tried to persuade me to return. She was mightily diverted all the morning, and came to me with repeated messages of summons to attend the company, but I could not brave it again into the roon', and therefore entreated her to say I was finishing a letter. Yet I was sorry to lose so much of Mrs. Montagu.

When dinner was upon table, I followed the procession, in a tragedy step, as Mr. Thrale will have it, into the dining parlour. Dr. Johnson was returned.

The conversation was not brilliant, nor do I remember much

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of it; but Mrs. Montagu behaved to me just as I could have wished, since she spoke to me very little, but spoke that little with the utmost politeness. But Miss Gregory, though herself a modest girl, quite stared me out of countenance, and never took her eyes off my face.

When Mrs. Montagu's new house was talked of, Dr. Johnson, in a jocose manner, desired to know if he should be invited to see it.

"Ay, sure," cried Mrs. Montagu, looking well pleased; "or I shan't like it: but I invite you all to a house warming; I shall hope for the honour of seeing all this company at my new house next Easter day: I fix the day now that it may be remembered.'

Everybody bowed and accepted the invite but me, and I thought fitting not to hear it; for I have no notion of snapping at invites from the eminent. But Dr. Johnson, who sat next to me, Was determined I should be of the party, for he suddenly clapped his hand on my shoulder, and called out aloud,

"Little Burney, you and I will go together?"

"Yes, surely," cried Mrs. Montagu, "I shall hope for the pleasure of seeing 'Evelina.'"

"'Evelina>'" repeated he; "has Mrs. Montagu then found out 'Evelina?'"

"Yes," cried she, "and I am proud of it: I am proud that a work so commended should be a woman's."

hhow my face burnt!

"Has Mrs. Montagu," asked Dr. Johnson, "read 'Evelina?'"

"No, sir, not yet; but I shall immediately, for I feel the greatest eagerness to read it."

"I am very sorry, madam," replied he, "that you have not already, read it, because you cannot speak of it with a full conviction of its merit: which, I believe, when you have read it, you will have great pleasure in acknowledging."

Some other things were said, but I remember them not, for I could hardly keep my place: but my sweet, naughty Mrs. Thrale looked delighted for me......

When they were gone, how did Dr. Johnson astonish me by asking if I had observed what an ugly cap Miss Gregory had on? Then taking both my hands, and looking at me with an expression of much kindness, he said,

"Well, Miss Burney, Mrs. Montagu now will read 'Evelina'"...... 104 Mrs. Thrale then told me such civil things. Mrs. Montagu, it seems, during my retreat, inquired very particularly what kind of book it was?

"And I told her," continued Mrs. Thrale, "that it was a picture of life, manners, and characters. 'But won't she go on,' says she; 'surely she won't stop here?'

"'Why,' said I, 'I want her to go on in a new path—I want her to write a comedy.'

"'But,' said Mrs. Montagu, 'one thing must be considered; Fielding, who was so admirable in novel writing, never succeeded when he wrote for the stage.'"

"Very well said," cried Dr. Johnson "that was an answer which showed she considered her subject."

Mrs. Thrale continued :

"'Well, but 'a propos,' said Mrs. Montagu, 'if Miss Burney does write a play, I beg I may know of it; or, if she thinks proper, see it; and all my influence is at her service. We shall all be glad to assist in spreading the fame of Miss Burney.'"

I tremble for what all this will end in. I verily think I had best stop where I am, and never again attempt writing: for after so much honour, so much success—how shall I bear a downfall?

DR. JOHNSON'S COMPLIMENTS AND GROSS SPEECHES.

Monday, Sept. 21.-I have had a thousand delightful conversations with Dr. Johnson, who, whether he loves me or not, I am sure seems to have some opinion of my discretion, for he speaks of all this house to me with unbounded confidence, neither diminishing faults, nor exaggerating praise.

Whenever he is below stairs he keeps me a prisoner, for he does not like I should quit the room a moment; if I rise he constantly calls out, "Don't you go, little Burney!"

Last night, when we were talking of compliments and of gross speeches, Mrs. Thrale most justly said, that nobody could make either like Dr. Johnson. "Your compliments, sir, are made seldom, but when they are made they have an elegance unequalled; but then when you are angry! who dares make speeches so bitter and so cruel?"

Dr. J.-Madam, I am always sorry when I make bitter speeches, and I never do it, but when I am insufferably vexed.

Mrs. T-Yes, Sir; but you suffer things to vex you, that 105

nobody else would vex at. I am sure I have had my share of scoldings from YOU!

Dr. J-It is true, you have ; but you have borne it like an angel, and you have been the better for it.

Mrs. T.-That I believe, sir: for I have received more instruction from You than from any man, or any book: and the vanity that you should think me worth instructing, always overcame the vanity(71) of being found fault with. And so you had the scolding, and I the improvement.

F.B.-And I am sure both make for the honour of both!

Dr J.-I think so too. But Mrs. Thrale is a sweet creature, and never angry; she has a temper the most delightful of any woman I ever knew.

Mrs. T-This I can tell you, sir, and without any flattery— I not only bear your reproofs when present, but in almost everything I do in your absence, I ask myself whether you would like it, and what you would say to it. Yet I believe there is nobody you dispute with oftener than me.

F.B.-But you two are so well established with one another, that you can bear a rebuff that would kill a stranger.

Dr. J.-Yes; but we disputed the same before we were so well established with one another.

Mrs. T.-Oh, sometimes I think I shall die no other death than hearing the bitter things he says to others. What he says to myself I can bear, because I know how sincerely he is my friend, and that he means to mend me; but to others it is cruel.

Dr. j.-Why, madam, you often provoke me to say severe things, by unreasonable commendation. If you would not call for my praise, I would not give you my censure; but it constantly moves my indignation to be applied to, to speak well of a thing which I think contemptible.

F.B.-Well, this I know, whoever I may hear complain of Dr. Johnson's severity, I shall always vouch for his kindness, as far as regards myself, and his indulgence.

Mrs. T.-Ay, but I hope he will trim you yet, too!

Dr. J.-I hope not: I should be very sorry to say anything that should vex my dear little Burney.

F.B.-If you did, sir, it would vex me more than you can imagine. I should sink in a minute.

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Mrs-. T.-I remember, sir, when we were travelling in Wales, how you called me to account for my civility to the people. 'Madam,' you said, 'let me have no more of this idle commendation of nothing. Why is it, that whatever You see, and whoever you see, you are to be so indiscriminately lavish of praise?' 'Why! I'll tell you, sir,' said I, 'when I am with you and Mr. Thrale, and Queeny, I am obliged to be civil for four!'"

There was a cutter for you! But this I must say, for the honour of both—Mrs. Thrale speaks to Dr. Johnson with as much sincerity, (though with greater softness,) as he does to her.



SUGGESTED HUSBANDS FOR FANNY BURNEY.

Sept. 26-The present chief sport with Mrs. Thrale is disposing of me in the holy state of matrimony, and she offers me whoever comes to the house. This was begun by Mrs. Montagu, who, it seems, proposed a match for me in my absence, with Sir Joshua Reynolds!-no less a man, I assure you!

When I was dressing for dinner, Mrs. Thrale told me that Mr. Crutchley was expected.

"Who's he?" quoth I.

" A young man of very large fortune, who was a ward of Mr. Thrale. Queeny, what do you say of him for Miss Burney?"

"Him?" cried she; "no, indeed; what has Miss Burney done to have him?"

" Nay, believe me, a man of his fortune may offer himself anywhere. However, I won't recommend him."

" Why then, ma'am," cried I, with dignity, "I reject him!"

This Mr. Crutchley stayed till after breakfast the next morning. I can't tell you anything, of him, because I neither like nor dislike him. Mr. Crutchley was scarce gone, ere Mr. Smith arrived. Mr. Smith is a second cousin to Mr. Thrale, and a modest pretty sort of young man. He stayed till Friday morning. When he was gone,

"What say you to him, Miss Burney?" cried Mrs. Thrale; "I'm sure I offer you variety."

"Why I like him better than Mr. Crutchley, but I don't think I shall pine for either of them."

, Dr. Johnson," said Mrs. Thrale, "don't you think Jerry Crutchley very much improved?"

Dr. J.-Yes, madam, I think he is.

Mrs. T.-Shall he have Miss Burney? 107

Dr. J.-Why, I think not; at least I must know more about him; I Must inquire into his connections, his recreations, his employments, and his character, from his intimates, before I trust Miss Burney with him. And he must come down very handsomely with a settlement. I will not have him left to his generosity; for as he will marry her for her wit, and she him for his fortune, he ought to bid well, and let him come down with what he will, his price will never be equal to her worth.

Mrs. T.-She says she likes Mr. Smith better.

Dr. J.-Yes, but I won't have her like Mr. Smith without money, better than Mr. Crutchley with it. Besides, if she has Crutchley, he will use her well, to vindicate his choice. the world, madam, has a reasonable claim upon all mankind to account for their conduct; therefore, if with his great wealth, he marries a woman who has but little, he will be more attentive to display her merit, than if she was equally rich,—in order to show that the woman he has chosen deserves from the world all the respect and admiration it can bestow, or that else she would not have been his choice.

Mrs. T.-I believe young Smith is the better man.

F.B.-Well, I won't be rash in thinking of either; I will take some time for consideration before I fix.

Dr. J.-Why, I don't hold it to be delicate to offer marriage to ladies, even in jest, nor do I approve such sort of jocularity; yet for once I must break through the rules of decorum, and Propose a match myself for Miss Burney. I therefore nominnate Sir J- L-.(72)

Mrs. T.-I'll give you my word, sir, you are not the first to say that, for my master the other morning, when we were alone, said 'What would I give that Sir J— L—- was married to Miss Burney; it might restore him to our family.' So spoke his Uncle and guardian.

F.B.-He, he! Ha, ha! He, he! Ha, ha!

Dr. J.-That was elegantly said of my master, and nobly said, and not in the vulgar way we have been saying it. And madam, where will you find another man in trade who will make such a speech- -who will be capable of making such a speech? Well, I am glad my master takes so to Miss Burney; I would have everybody take to Miss Burney, so as they allow 108 me to take to her most! Yet I don't know whether Sir J_ L— should have her, neither; I should be afraid for her; I don't think I would hand her to him.

F.B.-Why, now, what a fine match is here broken off!

Some time after, when we were in the library, he asked me very gravely if I loved reading?

"Yes," quoth I.

"Why do you doubt it, sir ?" cried MrsThrale.

"Because," answered he, "I never see her with a book in her hand. I have taken notice that she never has been reading whenever I have come into the room."

" Sir," quoth I, courageously, " I'm always afraid of being caught reading, lest I should pass for being studious or affected, and therefore instead of making a display of books, I always try to hide them, as is the case at this very time, for I have now your ' Life of Waller' under my gloves behind me. However, since I am piqued to it, I'll boldly produce my voucher."

And so saying, I put the book on the table, and opened it with a flourishing air. And then the laugh was on my side, for he could not help making a droll face; and if he had known Kitty Cooke,' I would have called out, "There I had you, my lad!"

A STREATHAm DINNER PARTY.

Monday was the day for our great party; and the Doctor came home, at MrsThrale's request, to meet them. The party consisted of Mr. C—, who was formerly a timber-merchant, but having amassed a fortune of one million of pounds, he has left off business. He is a good-natured busy sort of man. ;

Mrs. C—, his lady, a sort of Mrs. Nobody.

Mr. N—, another rich business leaver-off.

Mrs. N—, his lady; a pretty sort of woman, who was formerly a pupil of Dr. Hawkesworth. I had a great deal of talk with her about him, and about my favourite miss Kinnaird, whom she knew very well.

Mr. George and Mr. Thomas N—, her sons-in-law.

Mr. R—-, of whom I know nothing but that he married into MrThrale's family.

Lady Ladd; I ought to have begun with her. I beg her ladyship a thousand pardons—though if she knew My offence,

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I am sure I should not obtain one. She is own sister to Mr. Thrale. She is a tall and stout woman, has an air of mingled dignity and haughtiness, both of which wear off in conversation. She dresses very youthful and gaily, and attends to her person with no little complacency. She appears to me uncultivated in knowledge, though an adept in the manners of the world, And all that. She chooses to be much more lively than her brother; but liveliness sits as awkwardly upon her as her pink ribbons. in talking her over with MrsThrale who has a very proper regard for her, but who, I am sure, cannot be blind to her faults, she gave me another proof to those I have already of the uncontrolled freedom of speech which Dr. Johnson exercised to everybody, and which everybody receives quietly from him. Lady Ladd has been very handsome, but is now, I think, quite ugly—at least she has the sort of face I like not. she was a little while ago dressed in so showy a manner as to attract the doctor's notice, and when he had looked at her some time, he broke out aloud into this quotation:

"With patches, paint, and jewels on, Sure Phillis is not twenty-one But if at night you Phillis see, The dame at least is forty-three!"

I don't recollect the verses exactly, but such was their purport.

"However," said Mrs. Thrale, "Lady Ladd took it very good- naturedly, and only said, 'I know enough of that forty-three—I don't desire to hear any more of it.'"

Miss Moss, a pretty girl, who played and sung, to the great fatigue of Mrs. Thrale; Mr. Rose Fuller, Mr. Embry, Mr. Seward, Dr. Johnson, the three Thrales, and myself, close the party.

In the evening the company divided pretty much into parties, and almost everybody walked upon the gravel-walk before the windows. I was going to have joined some of them, when Dr. Johnson stopped me, and asked how I did.

"I was afraid, sir," cried I "you did not intend to know me again, for you have not spoken to me before since your return from town."

"MY dear," cried he, taking both my hands, "I was not of You, I am so near sighted, and I apprehended making some Mistake." Then drawing me very unexpectedly towards him, he actually kissed me!

To be sure, I was a little surprised, having no idea of such 110

facetiousness from him, However, I was glad nobody was in the room but MrsThrale, who stood close to us, and Mr. Embry, who was lounging on a sofa at the furthest end of the room. Mrs. Thrale laughed heartily, and said she hoped I was contented with his amends for not knowing me sooner.

A little after she said she would go and walk with the rest, if she did not fear for my reputation in being left with the doctor"

"However, as Mr. Embry is yonder, I think he'll take some care of you," she added.

"Ay, madam," said the doctor, "we shall do very well; but I assure you I sha'n't part with Miss Burney!"

And he held me by both hands; and when MrsThrale went, he drew me a chair himself facing the window, close to his own; and thus t'ete-'a-t'ete we continued almost all the evening. I say t'ete- 'a-t'ete, because Mr, Embry kept at an humble distance, and offered us no interruption And though Mr, Seward soon after came in, he also seated himself at a distant corner, not presuming, he said, to break in upon us! Everybody, he added, gave way to the doctor.

Our conversation chiefly was upon the Hebrides, for he always talks to me of Scotland, out of sport; and he wished I had been of that tour—quite gravely, I assure you!

The P— family came in to tea. When they were gone Mrs. Thrale complained that she was quite worn out with that tiresome silly woman Mrs. P—, who had talked of her family and affairs till she was sick to death of hearing her.

"Madam," said Dr. Johnson, "why do you blame the woman for the only sensible thing she could do—talking of her family and her affairs? For how should a woman who is as empty as a drum, talk upon any other subject? If you speak to her of the sun, she does not know it rises in the east;—if you speak to her of the moon, she does not know it changes at the full ;—if you speak to her of the queen, she does not know she is the king's wife.—how, then, can you blame her for talking of her family and affairs?" (31) Fanny Burney's step-mother.-ED.

(32) Dr. Burney's daughter by his second wife.

(33) "Evelina; or a Young Lady's Entrance into the World.-This novel has given us so much pleasure in the perusal, that we do not hesitate to pronounce it one of the most sprightly, entertaining, and agreeable productions of this kind that has of late fallen under our notice. A great variety of natural incidents, some of the comic stamp, render the narrative extremely interesting. The characters, which are agreeably diversified, are conceived and drawn with propriety, and supported with spirit. The whole is written with great ease and command of language. From this commendation we must, however, except the character of a son of Neptune, whose manners are rather those of a rough, uneducated country squire than those of a genuine sea-captain." Monthly Review, April, 1778.

(34) " Evelina.-The history of a young lady exposed to very critical situations. There is much more merit, as well respecting style as character and incident, than is usually to be met with in modern novels." London Review, Feb., 1778.

(35) Fanny was no mistress of numbers; but the sincerity and warm affection expressed in every line of the Ode prefixed to "Evelina," would excuse far weaker verses. We quote it in full.-ED.

"Oh, Author of my being !-far more dear

To me than light, than nourishment, or rest, Hygeia's blessings, Rapture's burning tear, Or the life-blood that mantles in-my breast! If in my heart the love of Virtue glows, 'Twas planted there by an unerring rule >From thy example the pure flame arose, Thy life, my precept,—thy good works, my school. Could my weak pow'rs thy num'rous virtues trace, By filial love each fear should be repress'd; The blush of Incapacity I'd chace, And stand, Recorder of thy worth, confess'd But since my niggard stars that gift refuse, Concealment is the only boon I claim Obscure be still the unsuccessful Muse, Who cannot raise, but would not sink, thy fame, Oh! of my life at once the source and joy! If e'er thy eyes these feeble lines survey, Let not their folly their intent destroy; Accept the tribute-but forget the lay."

(36) Lady Hales was the mother of Miss Coussmaker, having been twice married, the second time to Sir Thomas Pym Hales, Bart., who died in 1773. They were intimate friends of the Burneys.-ED.

(37) Dr. Burney had brought the work under the notice of Mrs. Thrale. Mrs. Cholmondeley was a sister of the famous actress, Peg Woffington. Her husband, the Hon. and Rev. Robert Cholmondeley, was the second son of the Earl of Cholmondeley, and nephew of Horace Walpole.-ED.

(38) The sum originally paid for "Evelina" was twenty pounds, to which ten Pounds more were added after the third edition. "Evelina " passed through four editions within a year.-ED.

(39) Mrs. Greville, the wife of Dr, Burney's friend and early patron, Fulke Greville, was Fanny's godmother, and the author of a much admired "Ode to Indifference."-ED

(40) Her cousin, Charles Rousseau Burney-Hetty's husband.-ED.

(41) A French authoress, who wrote about the middle of the eighteenth century. Her novels, according to Dunlop ""A History of Fiction," chap. xiii.), "are distinguished by their delicacy and spirit." Her best works ar: "Miss jenny Salisbury," "Le Marquis de Cressy," "Letters of Lady Catesby," etc.-ED. (42) Mrs. Williams, the blind poetess, who resided in Dr. Johnson's house. She had written to Dr. Burney, requesting the loan of a copy of "Evelina."-ED.

(43) william Seward "a great favourite at Streatham," was the son of an eminent brewer, Mr. Seward, of the firm of Calvert and Seward, and was born in 1747. He was not yet a "literary lion," but he published some volumes—"Anecdotes of Distinguished Persons "—at a later date. He died in 1799.-ED.

(44) Miss Frances Reynolds—Dr. Johnson's "Renny"—was the sister of the great Sir Joshua, and a miniature painter of some talent.-ED.

(45) Her brother.-ED.

(46) Bennet Lanpton, of Langton in Lincolnshire, was an old and much loved friend of Dr. johnson, and is frequently mentioned in Boswell's "Life." He was born about 1737, was educated at Oxford, was a good Greek scholar, and, says Boswell, "a gentleman eminent not only for worth, and learning but for an inexhaustible fund of entertaining conversation." ." He succeeded Johnson, on the death of the latter, as Professor of Ancient History to the Royal Academy, and died in 1801. Boswell has printed a charming letter, written by johnson, a few months before his death, to Langton's little daughter jane, then in her seventh year.-ED.

(47) "My master" was a Common appellation for Mr, Thrale,—and One which he seems, in earnest, to have deserved. "I know no man," said johnson, "who is more master of his wife and family than Thrale, he but holds up a finger, he is obeyed." (Boswell.)- ED.

48) Suspirius the Screech Owl. See "Rambler" for Oct. 9, 1750. (This is unjust to Goldsmith. The general idea of the character of Croaker, no doubt, closely resembles that of Suspirius, and was probably borrowed from johnson; but the details which make the part so diverting are entirely of Goldsmith's invention, as anyone may see by comparing "The Good-natured Man" with "The Rambler."-ED.]

(49) Mrs. Thrale tells a good story of Johnson's irrational antipathy to the Scotch. A Scotch gentleman inLondon, "at his return from the Hebrides, asked him, with a firm tone of voice, 'what he thought of his country?' 'That it is a very vile country, to be sure, sir,' returned for answer Dr. Johnson. 'Well sir!' replies the other, somewhat mortified, 'God made it!' 'Certainly he did,' answers Mr. Johnson, again, 'but we must always remember that He made it for Scotchmen; and—comparisons are odious, Mr. S.—but God made hell!'—(Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson)-ED.

(50) Fanny's step-mother.-ED. (51) Boswell prints these lines as follows:

"When first I drew my vital breath, A little minikin I came upon earth And then I came from a dark abode, into this gay and gaudy world,"-ED,

(52) Malone gives some further particulars about Bet Flint in a note to Boswell's "Life of Johnson." She was tried, and acquitted, at the Old Bailey in September, 1758, the prosecutrix, Mary Walthow, being unable to prove "that the goods charged to have been stolen (a counterpane, a silver spoon, two napkins, etc.) were her property. Bet does not appear to have lived at that time in a very genteel style; for she paid for her ready- furnished room in Meard's-court, Dean-street, Soho, from which these articles were alleged to be stolen, only five shillings a week."-ED.

(53) Margaret Caroline Rudd was in great notoriety about the year 1776, from the fame of her powers of fascination, which, it was said, had brought a man to the gallows. This man, her lover, was hanged in January, 1776, for forgery, and the fascinating Margaret appeared as evidence against him. Boswell visited her in that year, and to a lady who expressed her disapprobation of such proceedings, Johnson said: "Nay, madam, Boswell is right: I should have visited her myself, were it not that they have got a trick of putting every thing into the newspapers."-ED.

(54) Kitty Fisher—more correctly, Fischer, her father being a German—an even more famous courtesan, who enjoyed the distinction of having been twice painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds -ED.

(55) The blind poetess, and inmate of Dr. Johnson's house.-ED.

(56) Michael Lort, D.D., Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, and subsequently Greek Professor. He was born in 1725, and died in 1799.-ED.

(57) "I wished the man a dinner and sat still."-Pope.

(58) The Miss Palmers were the nieces of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Mary, the elder, married, in 1792, the Earl of Inchiquin, afterwards created Marquis of Thomond; the younger, Theophila ("Offy"), married Robert Lovell Gwatkin, Esq. One of Sir Joshua's most charming pictures ("Simplicity") was painted, in 1788, from Offy's little daughter. Lady Ladd was the sister of Mr. Thrale.-ED.

(59) Miss Thrale.-ED.

(60) Edmund Burke, our "greatest man since Milton," as Macaulay called him.-ED.

(61) At Sir Joshua's town house, in Leicester Square. The house is now occupied by Messrs. Puttick and Simpson, the auctioneers.-ED.

(62) "de Mullin" is Mrs. Desmoulins, the daughter of Johnson's godfather, Dr. Swinfen, a physician in Lichfield. Left in extreme indigence by the deaths of her father and husband, she found for many years an asylum in the house of Dr. Johnson, whom she survived.-ED.

(63) Macbean was sometime Johnson's amanuensis. His "Dictionary of Ancient Geography" was published in 1773, with a Freface by Johnson.-ED

(64) Robert Levett—not Levat, as Fanny writes it—was a Lichfield man, "an obscure practiser in pbysick amongst the lower people," and an old acquaintance of Dr. Johnson's, in whose house he was supported for many years, until his death, at a very advanced age, in 1782, "So ended the long life of a very useful and very blameless man," Johnson wrote, in communicating the intelligence to Dr, Lawrence.-ED.

(65) Boswell tells us nothing of Poll, except that she was a Miss Carmichael. Domestic dissensions seem to have been the rule with this happy family, but Johnson's long-suffering was inexhaustible, On one occasion he writes Mrs. Thrale, "Williams hates everybody; Levett hates Desmoulins, who does not love Williams; Desmoulins hates them both; Poll loves none of them."-ED.

(66) The lives of Cowley and Waller, from Johnson's "Lives of the Poets." They were not published till 1781, but were already in print.-ED.

(67) "The Theory and Regulation of Love: A Moral Essay." By the Rev. John Norris, Oxford, 1688.-ED.

(68) Miss Gregory was the daughter of a Scotch physician. She married the Rev. Archibald Alison, and was the mother of Sir Archibald Alison, the historian.-ED.

(69) The house in which she died, in Portman Square.-ED.

(70) No doubt Simon Nicolas Henri Linguet, a French author, who published numerous works, historical and political, both before and after this date.-ED.

(71) IN the original edition: perhaps "vexation" was the word intended.-ED.

(72) Sir John Ladd, Mr, Thrale's sister's son, a young profligate who subsequently married, not Miss Burney, but a woman of the town! Dr. Johnson's satirical verses on his coming of age are printed near the end of Boswell's "Life."-ED.



111

SECTION 2 (1779)

THE AUTHOR OF "EVELINA" IN SOCIETY: SHE VISITS BRIGHTON AND TUNBRIDGE WELLS.

(Fanny's circle of acquaintance was largely extended in 1779, in which year she was introduced to Mrs. Horneck and her daughter Mary (Goldsmith's "Jessamy Bride"), to Mr. and Mrs. cholmondeley, to Arthur Murphy, the dramatist, and best of all, Richard Brinsley Sheridan and his beautiful wife. The Hornecks and the Cholmondeleys she met at one of those delightful parties at Sir Joshua Reynolds's house in Leicester Square,—parties composed of the wisest and wittiest in English society of the day, though nowhere among the guests could there be found a man of more genuine worth or more brilliant genius than the mild-mannered host. Mrs. Horneck had been a noted beauty in her younger days, and she, as well as her two lovely daughters, had been painted by Sir Joshua. The elder daughter, Catherine (Goldsmith's "Little Comedy"), was now (1779) Mrs. Bunbury, wife of Henry Bunbury the caricaturist. Mary, the younger, was at this time about twenty-six years of age, and was subsequently married to Colonel Gwynn, whom we shall meet with in Fanny's Diary of her Life at Court. Goldsmith, it is said, had loved Mary Horneck, though the ugly little man never ventured to tell his love; but when he died, five years before her meeting with fanny, the jessamy Bride caused his coffin to be reopened, and a lock of hair to be cut from the dead poet's head. This lock she treasured until her own death, nearly seventy years afterwards.

Mrs. Sheridan's maiden name was Eliza Anne Linley. There is an interesting notice of her in Fanny's "Early Diary" for the month of April, 1773. "Can I speak of music, and not mention Miss Linley? The town has rung of no other name this month. Miss Linley is daughter to a musician of Bath, a very sour, ill-bred, severe, and selfish man. She is believed to be very romantic; she has long been very celebrated for her singing, though never, till within this month, has she been in London. .

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She has long been attached to a Mr. Sheridan, a young man of great talents, and very well spoken of, whom it is expected she will speedily marry. She has performed this Lent at the Oratorio of Drury-lane, under Mr. Stanley's direction. The applause and admiration she has met with, can only be compared to what is given Mr. Garrick. The whole town seems distracted about her. Every other diversion is forsaken. Miss Linley alone engrosses all eyes, ears, hearts."

The "young man of great talents" was, when Fanny first met him, already renowned as the author of "The Rivals" and "The School for Scandal." His wife's extraordinary beauty has been perpetuated in one of Reynolds's masterpieces, in which she is represented as St. Cecilia, sitting at an organ. Her father seems to have fully deserved the character which Fanny gives him. In 1772 Eliza, then only nineteen, ran away to France with young Sheridan, who was just of age, and, it is reported, was privately married to him at the time. They were pursued, however, by old Linley, and Eliza was brought back, to become the rage of the town as a singer. Her lover married her openly in April, 1773, and thenceforward she sang no more in public.

Fanny's account of her visits to Tunbridge Wells and Brighton will recall, to readers of her novels, the delightfully humorous descriptions of the society at those fashionable resorts, in "Camilla" and "The Wanderer." Mount Ephraim, at Tunbridge Wells, where Sophy Streatfield resided, will be recognized as the scene of the accident in which Camilla's life is saved by Sir Sedley Clarendel.-ED.]

A QUEER ADVENTURE.

St. Martin's Street, January.

On Thursday, I had another adventure, and one that has made me grin ever since. A gentleman inquiring for my father, was asked into the parlour. The then inhabitants were only my mother and me. In entered a square old gentleman, well-wigged, formal, grave and important. He seated himself. My mother asked if he had any message for my father? "No, none." Then he regarded me with a certain dry kind of attention for some time; after which, turning suddenly to my mother, he demanded,

"Pray, ma'am, is this your daughter?"

"Yes, sir." 113

"O! this is Evelina, is it?"

"No, sir," cried I, staring at him, and glad none of you were in the way to say "Yes."

"No?" repeated he, incredulous; "is not your name Evelina, ma'am?"

"Dear, no, sir," again quoth I, staring harder.

"Ma'am," cried he, drily; "I beg your pardon! I had understood your name was Evelina."

Soon: after, he went away.

And when he put down his card, who should it prove but Dr. Franklin.(73) Was it not queer?



AN EVENING AT SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS'S: A DEMONSTRATIVE "EVELINA" ENTHUSIAST.

Now to this grand visit, which was become more tremendous than ever because of the pamphlet (74) business, and I felt almost ashamed to see Sir JOShua, and could not but conclude he would think of it too.

My mother, who changed her mind, came with me. My father promised to come before the Opera was half over.

We found the Miss Palmers alone. We were, for near an hour, quite easy, chatty, and comfortable; no pointed speech was made, and no starer entered. But when I asked the elder Miss Palmer if she would allow me to look at some of her drawings, she said,

"Not unless you will let me see something of yours."

"Of mine?" quoth I. "Oh,! I have nothing to show."

"I am sure you have; you must have."

"No, indeed; I don't draw at all."

"Draw? No, but I mean some of your writing."

"Oh, I never write—except letters."

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"Letters? those are the very things I want to see."

"Oh, not such as you mean."

" Oh now, don't say so; I am sure you are about something and if you would but show me—"

"No, no, I am about nothing—I am quite out of conceit with writing." I had my thoughts full of the vile Warley.

"You out of conceit?" exclaimed she; "nay, then, if you are, who should be otherwise!"

just then, Mrs. and Miss Horneck were announced. you may suppose I thought directly of the one hundred and sixty miles(75)—and may take it for granted I looked them very boldly in the face! Mrs. Horneck seated herself by my mother. Miss Palmer introduced me to her and her daughter, who seated herself next me; but not one word passed between us!

Mrs. Horneck, as I found in the course of the evening, is an exceedingly sensible, well-bred woman. Her daughter is very beautiful ; but was low-spirited and silent during the whole visit. She was, indeed, very unhappy, as Miss Palmer informed me, upon account of some ill news she had lately heard of the affairs of a gentleman to whom she is shortly to be married.

Not long after came a whole troop, consisting of Mr. Cholmondeley!—perilous name!—Miss Cholmondeley, and Miss Fanny Cholmondeley, his daughters, and Miss Forrest. Mrs. Cholmondeley, I found, was engaged elsewhere, but soon expected.(76) Now here was a trick of Sir Joshua, to make me meet all these people.

Mr. Cholmondeley is a clergyman; nothing shining either in person or manners, but rather somewhat grim in the first, and glum in the last. Yet he appears to have humour himself, and to enjoy it much in others.

Miss Cholmondeley I saw too little of to mention.

Miss Fanny Cholmondeley is a rather pretty, pale girl; very young and inartificial, and though tall and grown up, treated by her family as a child, and seemingly well content to really think herself such. She followed me whichever way I turned, and though she was too modest to stare, never ceased watching me the whole evening.

Miss Forrest is an immensely tall and not handsome young woman. Further I know not.

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Next came my father, all gaiety and spirits. Then Mr. William Burke.(77)

Soon after, Sir Joshua returned home. He paid his compliments to everybody, and then brought a chair next mine, and said,

"So you were afraid to come among us?"

I don't know if I wrote to you a speech to that purpose, which I made to the Miss Palmers? and which, I Suppose, they had repeated to him. He went on, saying I might as ,Well fear hobgoblins, and that I had only to hold up my head to be above them all.

After this address, his behaviour was exactly what my wishes would have dictated to him, for my own ease and quietness; for he never once even alluded to my book, but conversed rationally, gaily, and serenely: and so I became more comfortable than I had been ever since the first entrance of company. Our confab was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. King; a gentleman who is, it seems, for ever with the Burkes; -and presently Lord Palmerston(78) was announced.

Well, while this was going forward, a violent rapping bespoke, I was sure, Mrs. Cholmondeley, and I ran from the standers, and turning my back against the door, looked over Miss Palmer's cards; for you may well imagine, I was really in a tremor at a meeting which so long has been in agitation, and with the person who, of all persons, has been most warm and enthusiastic for my book.

She had not, however, been in the room half an instant, ere ,,my father came up to me, and tapping me on the shoulder, said, "Fanny, here's a lady who wishes to speak to you."

I curtsied in silence, she too curtsied, and fixed her eyes full on my face: and then tapping me with her fan, she cried,

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"Come, come, you must not look grave upon me."

Upon this, I te-he'd; she now looked at me yet more earnestly, and, after an odd silence, said, abruptly—

"But is it true?"

"What, ma'am?"

"It can't be!—tell me, though, is it true?"

I could only simper.

"Why don't you tell me?—but it can't be—I don't believe it!— no, you are an impostor!"

Sir Joshua and Lord Palmerston were both at her side—oh, how notably silly must I look! She again repeated her question of "Is it true?" and I again affected not to understand her: and then Sir Joshua, taking hold on her arm, attempted to pull her away, saying

"Come, come, Mrs. Cholmondeley, I won't have her overpowered here!"

I love Sir Joshua much for this, But Mrs. Cholmondeley, turning to him, said, with quickness and vehemence:—

"Why, I a'n't going to kill her! don't be afraid, I sha'n't compliment her!-I can't, indeed!"

Then, taking my hand, she led me through them all, to another part of the room, where again she examined my phiz, and viewed and reviewed my whole person.

"Now," said she, "do tell me; is it true?"

"What, ma'am?—I don't-I don't know what—"

"Pho! what,-why you know what: in short, can you read? and can you write?"

"No, ma'am!"

"I thought so," cried she I have suspected it was a trick, some time, and now I am sure of it. You are too young by half!-it can't be!"

I laughed, and would have got away, but she would not let me.

"No," cried she, "one thing you must, at least, tell me;—are you very conceited? Come, answer me," continued she. "You won't? Mrs. Burney, Dr. Burney,—come here,—tell me if she is not very conceited?—if she is not eat up with conceit by this time?"

They were both pleased to answer "Not half enough."

"Well," exclaimed she, "that is the most wonderful part of all! Why, that is yet more extraordinary than writing the book."

I then got away from her, and again looked over Miss Palmer's cards : but she was after me in a minute,

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"Pray, Miss Burney," cried she, aloud, "do you know any thing of this game?"

"No, ma'am."

"No?" repeated she, "ma foi, that's pity!"(79)

This raised such a laugh, I was forced to move on; yet everybody seemed to be afraid to laugh, too, and studying to be delicate, as if they had been cautioned; which, I have since found, was really the case, and by Sir Joshua himself.

Again, however, she was at my side.

"What game do you like, Miss Burney?" cried she.

"I play at none, ma'am."

"No? Pardie, I wonder at that! Did you ever know such a toad?"

Again I moved on, and got behind Mr. W. Burke, who, turning round to me, said,—

"This is not very politic in us, Miss Burney, to play at cards, and have you listen to our follies."

There's for you! I am to pass for a censoress now.

Mrs. Cholmondeley hunted me quite round the card-table, from chair to chair, repeating various speeches of Madame Duval; and when, at last, I got behind a sofa, out of her reach, she called out aloud, " Polly, Polly ! only think! miss has danced with a lord

Some time after, contriving to again get near me, she began flirting her fan, and exclaiming, "Well, miss, I have had a beau, I assure you! ay, and a very pretty beau too, though I don't know if his lodgings were so prettily furnished, and everything, as Mr. Smith's."(80)

Then, applying to Mr. Cholmondeley, she said, "Pray, sir, what is become of my lottery ticket?"

"I don't know," answered he.

" Pardie " cried she, "you don't know nothing

I had now again made off, and, after much rambling, I at last seated myself near the card-table : but Mrs. Cholmondeley was after me in a minute, and drew a chair next mine. I now found it impossible to escape, and therefore forced myself to sit still. Lord Palmerston and Sir Joshua, in a few moments, seated themselves by us.

I must now write dialogue-fashion, to avoid the enormous length of Mrs. C.'s name.

Mrs. C.-I have been very ill; monstrous ill indeed or

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else I should have been at your house long ago. Sir Joshua, pray how do you do? you know, I suppose, that I don't come, to see you?

Sir Joshua could only laugh, though this was her first address to him.

Mrs. C.-Pray, miss, what's your name?

F.B.-Frances, ma'am.

Mrs. C.-Fanny ? Well, all the Fanny's are excellent and yet, my name is Mary! Pray, Miss Palmers, how are you?—though I hardly know if I shall speak to you to-night, I thought I should have never got here! I have been so out of humour with the people for keeping me. If you but knew, cried I, to whom I am going to-night, and who I shall see to-night, you would not dare keep me muzzing here!

During all these pointed speeches, her penetrating eyes were fixed upon me; and what could I do?—what, indeed, could anybody do, but colour and simper?—all the company watching us, though all, very delicately, avoided joining the confab.

Mrs. C-My Lord Palmerston, I was told to-night that nobody could see your lordship for me, for that you supped at my house every night. Dear, bless me, no ! cried I, not every night! and I looked as confused as I was able; but I am afraid I did not blush, though I+ tried hard for it.

Then, again, turning to me,

That Mr. What-d'ye-call-him, in Fleet-street, is a mighty silly fellow;—perhaps you don't know who I mean?—one T. Lowndes,—but maybe you don't know such a person?

FB.-No, indeed, I do not!—that I can safely say.

Mrs. C.-I could get nothing from him: but I told him I hoped he gave a good price ; and he answered me that he always did things genteel. What trouble and tagging we had! Mr. [I cannot recollect the name she mentioned] laid a wager the writer was a man:—I said I was sure it was a woman: but now we are both out; for it's a girl!

In this comical, queer, flighty, whimsical manner she ran on, till we were summoned to supper ; for we were not allowed to break up before: and then, when Sir Joshua and almost everybody was gone down stairs, she changed her tone, and, with a face and voice both grave, said:

"Well, Miss Burney, you must give me leave to say One thing to you; yet, perhaps you won't, neither, will you?"

"What is it, ma'am?"

"Why it is, that I admire you more than any human being and that I can't help!" 119

Then suddenly rising, she hurried down stairs.

While we were upon the stairs, I heard Miss Palmer say to Miss Fanny Cholmondeley, "Well, you don't find Miss Burney quite so tremendous as you expected?"

Sir Joshua made me sit next him at supper; Mr. William Burke was at my other side; though, afterwards, I lost the knight of plimton,(81) who, as he eats no suppers, made way for Mr. Gwatkin,(82) and, as the table was crowded, himself stood at the fire. He was extremely polite and flattering in his manners to me, and entirely avoided all mention or hint at "Evelina" the whole evening: indeed, I think I have met more scrupulous delicacy from Sir Joshua than from anybody, although I have heard more of his approbation than of almost any other person's.

Mr. W. Burke was immensely attentive at table; but, lest he should be thought a Mr. Smith for his pains, he took care, whoever he helped, to add, "You know I am all for the ladies!"