Mrs. Ord almost ran to the door to receive us, and every creature of this company, contrary to all present custom in large meetings, stood up.

“Why have you been so late?” cried Mrs. Ord, “we have been waiting for you this hour.  I was afraid there was some mistake.”

“My father could not come sooner.”

“But why would not you let me send my coach for you?  Mr. Soame Jenyns has been dying with impatience; some of us thought you would not come; others thought it only coquetry; but come, let us repair the time as we can, and introduce you to one another without further delay.”

You may believe how happy I felt at this “some thought,” and “others,” which instantly betrayed that everybody was

262

apprised they were to see this famous rencounter; and lest I should mark it less, every body still stood up.  Mr. jenyns now, with all the speed in his power, hastened up to me, and began a long harangue of which I know hardly a word, upon the pleasure and favour, and honour, and what not, of meeting me, and upon the delight, and information, and amusement of reading “Cecilia.”

I made all possible reverences, and tried to get to a seat, but Mrs. Ord, when I turned from him, took my hand, and leading me to the top of the room, presented me to Mrs. jenyns.  Reverences were repeated here, in silence, however, so they did very well.  I then hoped to escape to Mrs. Thrale, who held out her hand to me, pointing to a chair by her own, and saying,-

“Must I, too, make interest to be introduced to Miss Burney?”

This, however, was not allowed; Mrs. Ord again took my hand, and parading me to the sofa, said,—­

“Come, Miss Burney, and let me place you by Mrs. Buller.”

I was glad, by this time, to be placed any where, for not till then did the company seat themselves.

Mr. Cambridge, sen., then came up to speak to me, but had hardly asked how I did before Mrs. Ord brought Mr. jenyns to me again, and made him my right-hand neighbour, saying,-

“There! now I have put you fairly together, I have done with you.”

Mr. Soame jenyns then, thus called upon—­could he do less?—­began an eulogy unrivalled, I think, for extravagance of praise.  All creation was open to me; no human being ever began that book and had power to put it down; pathos, humour, interest, moral—­O heavens!  I heard, however, but the leading words; though every body else, the whole roon, being silent, doubtless heard how they hung together.  Had I been carried to a theatre to hear an oration upon my own performances, I could hardly have felt more confounded.

I bowed my head during the first two or three sentences, by way of marking that I thought them over; but over they were not the more.  I then turned away, but I only met Mrs. Buller, who took up the panegyric where Mr. jenyns stopped for breath.

In short, the things that were said, with the attention of the whole company, would have drawn blushes into the cheeks of Agujari or Garrick.  I was almost upon the point of running 263