“When we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. Thrale made my father and me sit on each side of her.  I said that I hoped I did not take Dr. Johnson’s place;—­for he had not yet appeared.

“‘No,’ answered Mrs. Thrale, ’he will sit by you, which I am sure will give him great pleasure.’

“Soon after we were seated, this great man entered.  I have so true a veneration for him, that the very sight of him inspires me with delight and reverence, notwithstanding the cruel infirmities to which he is subject; for he has almost perpetual convulsive movements, either of his hands, lips, feet, or knees, and sometimes of all together.

“Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him, and he took his place.  We had a noble dinner, and a most elegant dessert.  Dr. Johnson, in the middle of dinner, asked Mrs. Thrale what was in some little pies that were near him.

“‘Mutton,’ answered she, ’so I don’t ask you to eat any, because I know you despise it.’

“‘No, Madam, no,’ cried he:  ’I despise nothing that is good of its sort; but I am too proud now to eat of it.  Sitting by Miss Burney makes me very proud to-day!’

“‘Miss Burney,’ said Mrs. Thrale, laughing, ’you must take great care of your heart if Dr. Johnson attacks it; for I assure you he is not often successless.’

“‘What’s that you say, Madam?’ cried he; ’are you making mischief between the young lady and me already?’

“A little while after he drank Miss Thrale’s health and mine, and then added: 

“’Tis a terrible thing that we cannot wish young ladies well, without wishing them to become old women.’”

Madame D’Arblay’s memoirs are sadly defaced by egotism, and gratified vanity may have had a good deal to do with her unqualified admiration of Mrs. Thrale; for “Evelina” (recently published) was the unceasing topic of exaggerated eulogy during the entire visit.  Still so acute an observer could not be essentially wrong in an account of her reception, which is in the highest degree favourable to her newly acquired friend.  Of her second visit she says: 

“Our journey was charming.  The kind Mrs. Thrale would give courage to the most timid.  She did not ask me questions, or catechise me upon what I knew, or use any means to draw me out, but made it her business to draw herself out—­that is, to start subjects, to support them herself, and take all the weight of the conversation, as if it behoved her to find me entertainment.  But I am so much in love with her, that I shall be obliged to run away from the subject, or shall write of nothing else.

“When we arrived here, Mrs. Thrale showed me my room, which is an exceeding pleasant one, and then conducted me to the library, there to divert myself while she dressed.

“Miss Thrale soon joined me:  and I begin to like her.  Mr. Thrale was neither well nor in spirits all day.  Indeed, he seems not to be a happy man, though he has every means of happiness in his power.  But I think I have rarely seen a very rich man with a light heart and light spirits.”