“Suppose, Miss Burney,” said Mr. Seward, “we make her the heroine of our comedy? and call it “Hearts have at ye all?”

“Excellent,” cried I, “it can’t be better.”

Giddymiss brown.

At dinner we had three persons added to our company,—­my dear father, Miss Streatfield, and Miss Brown.

Miss Brown, as I foresaw, proved the queen of the day.  Miss Streatfield requires longer time to make conquests.  She is, indeed, much more really beautiful than Fanny Brown; but Fanny Brown is much more showy, and her open, goodhumoured, gay, laughing face inspires an almost immediate wish of conversing and merry-making with her.  Indeed, the two 139

days she spent here have raised her greatly in my regard.  She is a charming girl, and so natural, and easy, and sweet-tempered, that there is no being half an hour in her company without ardently wishing her well.

Next day at breakfast, our party was Sir Philip, Mr. Fuller, Miss Streatfield, Miss Brown, the Thrales, and I.

The first office performed was dressing Miss Brown.  She had put on bright, jonquil ribbons.  Mrs. Thrale exclaimed against them immediately; Mr. Fuller half joined her, and away she went, and brought green ribbons of her own, which she made Miss Brown run up stairs with to put on.  This she did with the utmost good humour; but dress is the last thing in which she excels; for she has lived so much abroad, and so much with foreigners at home, that she never appears habited as an Englishwoman, nor as a high-bred foreigner, but rather as an Italian Opera-dancer; and her wild, careless, giddy manner, her loud hearty laugh, and general negligence of appearance, contribute to give her that air and look.  I like her so much, that I am quite sorry she is not better advised, either by her own or some friend’s judgment.

Miss Brown, however, was queen of the breakfast:  for though her giddiness made everybody take liberties with her, her goodhumour made everybody love her, and her gaiety made everybody desirous to associate with her.  Sir Philip played with her as with a young and sportive kitten; Mr. Fuller laughed and chatted with her; and Mr. Seward, when here, teases and torments her.  The truth is, he cannot bear her, and she, in return, equally fears and dislikes him, but still she cannot help attracting his notice.

Sophy Streatfield again weeps to order.

Wednesday, June 16.—­We had.at breakfast a scene, of its sort, the most curious I ever saw.

The persons were Sir Philip, Mr. Seward, Dr. Delap,(98) Miss Streatfield, Mrs. and Miss Thrale, and I. The discourse turning I know not how, upon Miss Streatfield, Mrs. Thrale said,

“Ay I made her cry once for Miss Burney as pretty as could be, but nobody does cry so pretty as the S. S. I’m sure, when she cried for Seward, I never saw her look half so lovely.”