“What I am now going to say, as I have not yet read the ’Life of Lord Lyttelton’ quite through, must be considered as being only said aside, because what I am going to say—­”

“I wish, sir,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “it had been all said aside; here is too much about it, indeed, and I should be very glad to hear no more of it.”

This speech, which she made with great spirit and dignity, had an admirable effect.  Everybody was silenced.  Mr. Cator, thus interrupted in the midst of his proposition, looked quite amazed; Mr. Pepys was much gratified by the interference; and Dr. Johnson, after a pause, said-

“Well, madam, you shall hear no more of it; yet I will defend myself in every part and in every atom!”

And from this time the subject was wholly dropped.  This dear violent doctor was conscious he had been wrong, and therefore he most candidly bore the reproof. . . .

When the leave-taking time arrived, Dr. Johnson called to Mr. Pepys to shake hands, an invitation which was most coldly and forcibly accepted.(139)

The miserable host and melancholy guest.

Monday, june 17.-There passed, some time ago, an ‘agreement’ between Mr. Crutchley and Mr. Seward, that the latter is to make a visit to the former, at his country house in Berkshire; and to-day the time was settled; but a more ridiculous scene

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never was exhibited.  The host elect and the guest elect tried which should show least expectation of pleasure from the meeting, and neither of them thought it at all worth while to disguise his terror of being weary of the other.  Mr. Seward seemed quite melancholy and depressed in the prospect of making, and Mr. Crutchley absolutely miserable in that of receiving, the visit.  Yet nothing so ludicrous as the distress of both, since nothing less necessary than that either should have such a punishment inflicted.  I cannot remember half the absurd things that passed - but a few, by way of specimen, I will give.

“How long do you intend to stay with me, Seward?” cried Mr. Crutchley; “how long do you think you can bear it?”

“O, I don’t know; I sha’n’t fix,” answered the other:  just as I find it.”

“Well, but—­when shall you come?  Friday or Saturday?  I think you’d better not come till Saturday.”

“Why, yes, I believe on Friday.”

" On Friday!  Oh, you’ll have too much of it! what shall I do with you?”

“Why, on Sunday we’ll dine at the Lyells’.  Mrs. Lyell is a charming woman; one of the most elegant creatures I ever saw.”

“Wonderfully so,” cried Mr. Crutchley; “I like her extremely—­an insipid idiot!  She never opens her mouth but in a whisper; I never heard her speak a word in my life.  But what must I do with you on Monday? will you come away?”

“Oh, no; I’ll stay and see it out.”

" Why, how long shall you stay?  Why, I must come away myself’on Tuesday.”