one hotel to another on a gliding pavement, she is already worn out with being hurried from morning till night from one sight to another.  She rises every morning so fatigued with the toils of the preceding day, that she has not strength, if she had inclination, to observe the least, or the finest thing she sees!  She came hither to-day to a great breakfast I made for her, with her eyes a foot deep in her head, her hands dangling, and scarce able to support her knitting-bag.  She had been yesterday to see a ship launched, and went from Greenwich by water to Ranelagh.  Madame Dusson, who is Dutch-built, and whose muscles are pleasure-proof, came with her; there were besides, Lady Mary Coke, Lord and Lady Holdernesse, the Duke and Duchess of Grafton, Lord Hertford, Lord Villiers, Offley, Messieurs de Fleury, D’Eon,[2] et Duclos.[3] The latter is author of the Life of Louis Onze; dresses like a dissenting minister, which I suppose is the livery of a bel esprit, and is much more impetuous than agreeable.  We breakfasted in the great parlour, and I had filled the hall and large cloister by turns with French horns and clarionettes.  As the French ladies had never seen a printing-house, I carried them into mine; they found something ready set, and desiring to see what it was, it proved as follows:—­

The Press speaks—­

FOR MADAME DE BOUFFLERS.

    The graceful fair, who loves to know,
    Nor dreads the north’s inclement snow;
    Who bids her polish’d accent wear
    The British diction’s harsher air;
    Shall read her praise in every clime
    Where types can speak or poets rhyme.

FOR MADAME DUSSON.

    Feign not an ignorance of what I speak;
    You could not miss my meaning were it Greek: 
    ’Tis the same language Belgium utter’d first,
    The same which from admiring Gallia burst. 
    True sentiment a like expression pours;
    Each country says the same to eyes like yours.

[Footnote 1:  Boswell records Mr. Beauclerk’s account of his introduction of this lady to Johnson:  “When Mme. de Boufflers was first in England she was desirous to see Johnson.  I accordingly went with her to his chambers in the Temple, where she was entertained with his conversation for some time.  When our visit was over, she and I left him, and were got into Inner Temple Lane, when, all at once, I heard a noise like thunder.  This was occasioned by Johnson, who, it seems, upon a little recollection, had taken it into his head that he ought to have done the honours of his literary residence to a foreign lady of quality, and, eager to show himself a man of gallantry, was hurrying down the staircase in evident agitation.  He overtook us before we reached the Temple Gate, and brushing in between me and Mme. de Boufflers, seized her hand and conducted her to her coach.  His dress was a rusty brown morning suit, a pair of old shoes by way of slippers, a little shrivelled wig sticking on the top of his head, and the sleeves of his shirt and the knees of his breeches hanging loose.  A considerable crowd of people gathered round, and were not a little struck by this singular appearance” (vol. ii., ann. 1775.)]