wear a black hat and cloak in summer! Oh, 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."

66

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 us of certain celebrated ladies of his acquaintance: an account which, had you heard from himself, would have made you die with laughing, his manner is so peculiar, and he 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 be called a soupir étouffé; and when Dr. Johnson came in she applied to him.

66

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."

"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."

66

'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?” "Oh, a fine character, madam! She was habitually a slut and a drunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot."

66

66

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

Bet

Why, madam, she figured in the literary world, too! 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.'

So Bet brought me her verses to correct; but I gave her half-acrown, 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?"

66

‘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 footboy 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!

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.

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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 among the rest?"

“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, once took Kitty Fisher to see him, but to his no little regret he was not at home." "And Mrs. Williams," he added, "did not love Bet Flint, but Bet Flint made herself very easy about that."

How Mr. Crisp would have enjoyed this account!

He gave

it all with so droll a solemnity, and it was all so unexpected, that Mrs. Thrale and I were both almost equally diverted.

(Vol I., page 67.)

*

[AUG. 26, 1778.] Dr. Johnson came home to dinner.

In the evening he was as lively and full of wit and sport as I have ever seen him; and Mrs. Thrale and I had him quite to ourselves; for Mr. Thrale came in from giving an election dinner (to which he sent two bucks and six pine-apples) so tired that he neither opened his eyes nor mouth, but fell fast asleep. Indeed, after tea he generally does.

Dr. Johnson was very communicative concerning his present work of the Lives of the Poets; Dryden is now in the press, and he told us he had just been writing a dissertation upon Hudibras.

He gave us an account of Mrs. Lennox. Her "Female Quixote" is very justly admired here. But Mrs. Thrale says, that though her books are generally approved, nobody likes her. I find she, among others, waited on Dr. Johnson upon her commencing writer, and he told us that, at her request, he carried her to Richardson.

"Poor Charlotte Lennox!" continued he; "when we came to the house, she desired me to leave her, 'for,' says she, 'I am under great restraint in your presence; but if you leave me alone with Richardson, I'll give you a very good account of him: however, I fear poor Charlotte was disappointed, for she gave me no account at all."

He then told us of two little productions of our Mr. Harris, which we read; they are very short and very clever: one is called “Fashion," the other "Much Ado," and they are both of them full of a sportive humour that I had not suspected to belong to Mr. Harris, the learned grammarian.

"Miss

Some time after, turning suddenly to me, he said, Burney, what sort of reading do you delight in? History, travels, poetry, or romances?"

"O sir!" cried I, "I dread being catechised by you. I dare not make any answer, for I fear whatever I should say would be wrong!"

"Whatever you should say-how's that?"

"Why, not whatever I should, but whatever I could say." He laughed, and to my great relief spared me any further questions upon the subject.

In the

[AUG. 1778.] The day was passed most agreeably. evening we had, as usual, a literary conversation. I say we, only because Mrs. Thrale will make me take some share, by perpetually applying to me; and, indeed, there can be no better house for rubbing up the memory, as I hardly ever read, saw, or heard of any book that by some means or other has not been mentioned here.

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 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 thing than a good dinner, like Pope.

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:

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

What a ferment did this question, before such a set, put me in!

(Vol. I., page 92.)

[SEPT. 1778.] Before dinner, to my great joy, Dr. Johnson returned home from Warley Common. I followed Mrs. Thrale into the library to see him, and he is so near-sighted, that he took me for Miss Streatfield: but he did not welcome me less kindly when he found his mistake, which Mrs. Thrale made known by saying "No, 'tis Miss Streatfield's rival, Miss Burney."

At tea-time the subject turned upon the domestic economy of Dr. Johnson's own 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 ?

Dr. Johnson-Madam, she does not like them at all; but their fondness for her is not greater. She and De Mullin