None of our usual friends, the Shelleys, Hatsels, Dickens, or Pepys, were here, and we, therefore, made no party — but Mrs. Thrale and I stood at the top of the room to look on the dancing, and as we were thus disengaged, she was seized with a violent desire to make one among them, and I felt myself an equal inclination.  She proposed, as so many women danced together, that we two should, and nothing should I have liked so well; but I begged her to give up the scheme, as that would have occasioned more fuss and observation than our dancing with all the men that ever were born.

While we were debating this matter, a gentleman suddenly said to me,-"Did you walk far this morning, Miss Burney?” And, looking at him, I saw Mr. Metcalf,(157) whose graciousness

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rather surprised me, for he only made to Mrs. Thrale a cold and distant bow, and it seems he declares, aloud and around, his aversion to literary ladies.  That he can endure, and even seek me is, I presume, only from the general perverseness of mankind, because he sees I have always turned from him; not, however, from disliking him, for he is a shrewd, sensible, keen, and very clever man; but merely from a dryness on his own side that has excited retaliation.

“Yes,” I answered, “we walked a good way.”

“Dr. Johnson,” said he, “told me in the morning you were no walker; but I informed him then I had had the pleasure of seeing you upon the Newmarket Hill.”

“Oh, he does not know,” cried I, “whether I am a walker or not--he does not see me walk, because he never walks himself.” . . .

Here he was called away by some gentleman, but presently came to me again.

“Miss Burney,” he said, “shall you dance?"”

“No, sir, not to-night.”

“A gentleman,” he added, “has desired me to speak to you for him.”

Now, Susanna, for the grand moment!—­the height—­the zenith of my glory in the ton meridian!  I again said I did not mean to dance, and to silence all objection, he expressively said,—­

“Tis Captain Kaye(158) who sends me.”

Is not this magnificent?  Pray congratulate me!

I was really very much surprised, but repeated my refusal, with all customary civilities to soften it.  He was leaving me with this answer, when this most flashy young officer, choosing to trust his cause to himself, came forward, and desired to be introduced to me.  Mr. Metcalf performed that ceremony, and he then, with as much respect and deference as if soliciting a countess, said,—­

“May I flatter myself you will do me the honour of dancing With me?”

I thanked him, and said the same thing over again.  He

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looked much disappointed, and very unwilling to give up his plan.

“If you have not,” he said, “any particular dislike to dancing, it will be doing, not only me, but the Whole room much honour, if you will make one in a set.”