I therefore wrote him word, that I supposed, in the hurry of his business, and variety of his concerns, he had forgotten my request, which I now repeated.  I also added, that if ever the book went through another edition, I should be glad to have timely notice, as I had some corrections and alterations to propose.

I received an immediate answer, and intelligence from my sisters, that he had sent a set of " Evelina " most elegantly bound.  The answer I will copy.

Fleet-street, July 2, 1778.

Sir,—­I bound up a set for you the first day I had them, and hoped by some means to hear from you.  The Great World send hereto buy “Evelina.”  A polite lady said, Do, Mr. Lowndes, give me “Evelina,” I am treated as unfashionable for not having read it.  I think the impression will be sold by Christmas.  If meantime, or about that time, you favour me with any commands, I shall be proud to observe them.  Your obliged servant, J. Lowndes.  To Mr. Grafton.

(Fanny Burney to Miss S. Burney.)
Chesington, Sunday, July 6.

Your letter, my dearest Susan, and the inclosed one from Lovirrides, have flung me into such a vehement perturbation, that i hardly can tell whether I wake or dream, and it is even With difficulty that I can fetch my breath.  I have been strol 70

ling round the garden three or four times, in hopes of regaining a little quietness.  However, I am not very angry at my inward disturbance, though it even exceeds what I experienced from the “Monthly Review.”

My dear Susy, what a wonderful affair has this been, and how extraordinary is this torrent of success, which sweeps down all before it!  I often think it too much, nay, almost wish it would happen to some other person, who had more ambition, whose hopes were more sanguine, and who could less have borne to be buried in the oblivion which I even sought.  But though it might have been better bestowed, it could by no one be more gratefully received.

Indeed I can’t help being grave upon the subject; for a success so really unexpected almost overpowers me.  I wonder at myself that my spirits are not more elated.  I believe half the flattery I have had would have made me madly merry; but all serves only to almost depress me by the fullness of heart it occasions.  I have been serving Daddy Crisp a pretty trick this morning How he would rail if he found it all out !  I had a fancy to dive pretty deeply into the real rank in which he held my book; so I told him that your last letter acquainted me who was reported to be the author of “Evelina.”  I added that it was a profound secret, and he must by no means mention it to a human being.  He bid me tell him directly, according to his usual style of command—­but I insisted upon his guessing.

“I can’t guess,” said he — “may be it is you.”

Oddso! thought I, what do you mean by that?

“Pooh, nonsense!” cried I,” what should make you think of me?”