But I have not yet done with the mother: I have told you of her vivacity and her mimicry, but her character is yet not half told. She has a kind of whimsical conceit, and odd affectation, that, joined to a very singular sort of humour, makes her always seem to be rehearsing some scene in a comedy. She takes off, if she mentions them, all her own children, and, though she quite adores them, renders them ridiculous with all her power. She laughs at herself for her smallness and for her vagaries, just with the same ease and ridicule as if she were speaking of some other person; and, while perpetually hinting at being old and broken, she is continually frisking, flaunting, and playing tricks, like a young coquette.

When I was introduced to her by Mrs. Thrale, who said, "Give me leave, ma'am, to present to you a friend of your daughter's-Miss Burney," she advanced to me with a tripping pace, and, taking one of my fingers, said, "Allow me, ma'am, will you, to create a little acquaintance with you.

And, indeed, I readily entered into an alliance with her, for I found nothing at Tunbridge half so entertaining, except, indeed, Miss Birch, of whom hereafter.

The next morning the S. S. breakfasted with us; and then they walked about to show me the place.

The Sussex Hotel, where we lived, is situated at the side of the Pantiles, or public walk, so called because paved with pantiles; it is called so also, like the long room at Hampstead, because it would be difficult to distinguish it by any other name; for it has no beauty in itself, and borrows none from foreign aid, as it has only common houses at one side, and little millinery and Tunbridge-ware shops at the other, and at each

end is choked up by buildings that intercept all prospect. How such a place could first be made a fashionable pleasure-walk, everybody must wonder.

Tunbridge Wells is a place that to me appeared very singular: the country is all rock, and every part of it is either up or down hill, scarce ten yards square being level ground in the whole place: the houses, too, are scattered about in a strange wild manner, and look as if they had been dropped where they stand by accident, for they form neither streets nor squares, but seem strewed promiscuously, except, indeed, where the shopkeepers live, who have got two or three dirty little lanes, much like dirty little lanes in other places.

Mrs. Streatfield and I increased our intimacy marvellously. She gave me the name of "the dove," for what reason I cannot guess, except it be that the dove has a sort of greenish grey eye,' something like mine; be that as it may, she called me nothing else while I stayed at Tunbridge.

In the evening we all went to the rooms. The rooms, as they are called, consisted, for this evening, of only one apartment, as there was not company enough to make more necessary, and a very plain, unadorned, and ordinary apartment that was.

There were very few people, but among them Mr. Wedderburne, the Attorney-General. You may believe I rather wished to shrink from him, if you recollect what Mrs. Thrale said of him, among the rest of the Tunbridge coterie last

1 Dr. Delany, it may be remembered, found the same characteristics in his second wife. She had "what Solomon calls dove's eyes," he said.

season, who discussed Evelina regularly every evening, and that he, siding with Mrs. Montagu, cut up the Branghtons, and had, as well as Mrs. Montagu, almost a quarrel with Mrs. Greville upon the subject, because she so warmly vindicated, or rather applauded, them. Lady Louisa, however, I remember he spoke of with very high praise, as Mrs. Montagu did of the Dedication; and if such folks can find anything to praise, I find myself amply recompensed for their censures, especially when they censure what I cannot regret writing, since it is the part most favoured by Dr. Johnson.

Mr. Wedderburne joined us immediately. Mrs. Thrale presently said, "Mr. Wedderburne,1 I must present my daughter to you,-and Miss Burney.

I curtsied mighty gravely, and shuffled to the other end of the party.

Amongst the company, I was most struck with the Hon. Mrs. W lately Miss T—. She ran away with a Mr. W a man nearly old enough to be her father, and of most notorious bad character, both as a sharper and a libertine. This wretch was with her a most hackneyed, ill-looking object as I ever saw; and the foolish girl, who seems scarce sixteen, and looks a raw school-girl, has an air of so much discontent, and seems in a state of such dismal melancholy, that it was not possible to look at her without compassionating a folly she has so many years to live regretting. I would not wish a more striking warning to be given to other such forward, adventurous damsels, than to place before them this miserable runaway, who has not only disgraced

1 Alexander Wedderburn, 1733-1805, afterwards Baron Loughborough, and first Earl of Rosslyn. At this date he was Attorney-General. He is supposed to have been chiefly instrumental in obtaining Johnson's pension in 1762.