Mrs. Delany was alone in her drawing-room, which is entirely hung round with pictures of her own painting, and Ornaments of her own designing.  She came to the door to receive us.  She is still tall, though some of her height may be lost:  not much, however, for she is remarkably upright.  She has no remains of beauty in feature, but in countenance I never but once saw more, and that was in my sweet maternal grandmother.  Benevolence, softness, piety, and gentleness are all resident in her face ; and the resemblance with which she struck me to my dear grandmother, in her first appearance, grew so much stronger from all that came from her mind, which seems to contain nothing but purity and native humility,

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that I almost longed to embrace her; and I am sure if I had the recollection of that saint-like woman would have been so strong that I should never have refrained from crying over her.

Mrs. Chapone presented me to her, and taking my hand* she said,—­ “You must pardon me if I give you an old-fashioned reception, for I know nothing new.”  And she saluted me.  I did not, as with Mrs. Walsingham, retreat from her.

“Can you forgive, Miss Burney,” she continued, “this great liberty I have taken with you, of asking for your company to dinner?  I wished so impatiently to see one from whom I have received such extraordinary pleasure, that, as I could not be alone this morning, I could not bear to put it off to another day; and, if you had been so good to come in the evening, I might, perhaps, have had company; and I hear so ill that I cannot, as I wish to do, attend to more than one at a time; for age makes me stupid even more than I am by nature; and how grieved and mortified I must have been to know I had Miss Burney in the room, and not to hear her!”

She then mentioned her regret that we could not stay and spend the evening with her, which had been told her in our card of accepting her invitation, as we were both engaged, which, for my part, I heartily regretted.

“I am particularly sorry,” she added, “on account of the Duchess dowager of Portland, who is so good as to come to me in an evening, as she knows I am too infirm to wait upon her grace myself:  and she wished so much to see Miss Burney.  But she said she would come as early as possible.”

Soon after we went to dinner, which was plain, neat, well cooked, and elegantly served.  When it was over, I began to speak; and now, my Chesington auditors, look to yourselves!

“Will you give me leave, ma’am, to ask if you remember any body of the name of Crisp?”

“Crisp?” cried she, “What!  Mrs. Ann Crisp?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“O surely! extremely well! a charming, an excellent woman she was; we were very good friends once; I visited her at Burford, and her sister Mrs. Gast.”

Then came my turn, and I talked of the brother — but I won’t write what I said.  Mrs. Delany said she knew him but very little; and by no means so much as she should have liked.  I reminded her of 267