The morning after our arrival, our first visit was from Mr Kipping, the apothecary, a character so curious that Foote(107) designed him for his next piece, before he knew he had already written his last.  He is a prating, good-humoured old gossip, who runs on in as incoherent and unconnected a style of discourse as Rose Fuller, though not so tonish.

The rest of the morning we spent, as usual at this place, upon the Steyn, and in booksellers’ shops.  Mrs. Thrale entered all our names at Thomas’s, the fashionable bookseller; but we find he has now a rival, situated also upon the Steyn, who seems to carry away all the custom and all the company.  This is a Mr. Bowen, who is just come from London, and who

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seems just the man to carry the world before him as a shop, keeper.  Extremely civil, attentive to watch opportunities Of obliging, and assiduous to make use of them—­skilful in discovering the taste or turn of mind of his Customers, and adroit in Putting in their way just such temptations as they are least able to withstand.  Mrs. Thrale, at the same time that she sees his management and contrivance, so much admires his sagacity and dexterity, that, though open-eyed, she is as easily wrought upon to part with her money, as any of the many dupes in this place, whom he persuades to require indispensably whatever he shows them.  He did not, however, then at all suspect who I was, for he showed me nothing but schemes for raffles, and books, pocket-cases, etc., which weie put up for those purposes.  It is plain I c I can have no authoress air, since so discerning a bookseller thought me a fine lady spendthrift, who only wanted occasions to get rid of money.

Sunday morning, as we came out of church, we saw Mrs. Cumberland, one of her sons, and both her daughters.  Mrs. Thrale spoke to them, but I believe they did not recollect me.  They are reckoned the flashers of the place, yet everybody laughs at them for their airs, affectations, and tonish graces and impertinences.

In the evening, Mrs. Dickens, a lady of Mrs. Thrale’s acquaintance, invited us to drink tea at the rooms with her, which we did, and found them much more full and lively than the preceding night.  The folks of most consequence with respect to rank, were Lady Pembroke and Lady Di Beauclerk,(108) both of whom have still very pleasing remains of the beauty for which they have been so much admired.  But the present beauty, whose remains our children i.e. nieces) may talk of, is a Mrs. Musters, an exceedingly pretty woman, who is the reigning toast of the season.

While Mrs. Thrale, Mrs. Dickens, and I were walking about after tea, we were joined by a Mr. Cure, a gentleman of the former’s acquaintance.  After a little while he said-

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“Miss Thrale is very much grown since she was here last year ; and besides, I think she’s vastly altered.”

“Do you, sir,” cried she, “I can’t say I think so.”