Susan also writes me word, that when my father went last to Streatham, Dr. Johnson was not there, but Mrs. Thrale told him, that when he gave her the first volume of “Evelina,” which she had lent him, he said, “Why, madam, why, what a charming book you lent me!” and eagerly inquired for the rest.  He was particularly pleased with the Snow-hill scenes, and said that Mr. Smith’s vulgar gentility was admirably portrayed; and when Sir Clement joins them, he said there was a shade of character prodigiously well marked.  Well may it be said, that the greatest winds are ever the most candid to the inferior set!  I think I should love Dr. Johnson for such lenity to a poor mere worm in literature, even if I were not myself the identical grub he has obliged.

I now come to last Saturday evening, when my beloved father came to Chesington, in full health, charming spirits, and all kindness, openness, and entertainment.

In his way hither he had stopped at Streatham, and he settled with Mrs. Thrale that he would call on her again in his 74

way to town, and carry me with him ! and Mrs. Thrale said, “We all long to know her.”

I have been in a kind of twitter ever since, for there seems something very formidable in the idea of appearing as an authoress !  I ever dreaded it, as it is a title which must raise more expectations than I have any chance of answering.  Yet I am highly flattered by her invitation, and highly delighted in the prospect of being introduced to the Streatham society.

She sent me some very serious advice to write for the theatre, as, she says, I so naturally run into conversations, that “Evelina” absolutely and plainly points out that path to me; and she hinted how much she should be pleased to be honoured with my confidence.”

My dear father communicated this intelligence, and a great deal more, with a pleasure that almost surpassed that with which I heard it, and he seems quite eager for me to make another attempt.  He desired to take upon himself the communication to my daddy Crisp, and as it is now in so many hands that it is possible accident might discover it to him, I readily consented.

Sunday evening, as I was going into my father’s room, I heard him say, “The variety of characters—­the variety of scenes—­and the language—­why, she has had very little education but what she has given herself,-less than any of the others!” and Mr. Crisp exclaimed, “Wonderful!—­it’s wonderful!”

I now found what was going forward, and therefore deemed it most fitting to decamp.  About an hour after, as I was passing through the hall, I met my daddy (Crisp).  His face was all animation and archness; he doubled his fist at me, and would have stopped me, but I ran past him into the parlour.

Before supper, however, I again met him, and he would not suffer me to escape ; he caught both my hands, and looked as if he would have looked me through, and then exclaimed, “Why you little hussy,—­you young devil!—­an’t you ashamed to look me in the face, you Evelina, you!  Why, what a dance have you led me about it!  Young friend, indeed!  O you little hussy, what tricks have you served me!”