_Chesington._
My dear Mr. Crisp will be impatient, I know, for a history of the
long-planned re-encounter with the famed Soame Jenyns.
My father was quite enchanted at his request; and no wonder! for who
could have expected such civil curiosity from so renowned an old wit?
We were late; my father could not be early: but I was not a little
disconcerted to find, instead of Mr. Soame Jenyns _all alone by
himself_, a room full of company; not in groups, nor yet in a circle,
but seated square; _i.e._ close to the wainscot, leaving a vacancy
in the middle of the apartment sufficient for dancing three or four
cotillons.
Mrs. Ord almost ran to the door to receive us, crying out,
“Why have you been so late, Dr. Burney? We have been waiting for you
this hour. I was afraid there was some mistake. Mr. Soame Jenyns has
been dying with impatience for the arrival of Miss Burney. Some of us
thought she was naughty, and would not come; others thought it was only
coquetry. But, however, my dear Miss Burney, let us repair the lost
time as quickly as we can, and introduce you to one another without
further delay.”
You may believe how happy I was at this “some thought,” and “others
thought,” which instantly betrayed that every body was apprised they
were to witness this grand encounter: And, to mark it still more
strongly, every one, contrary to all present custom, stood up,—as if
to see the sight!
I really felt so abashed at meeting so famous an author with such
publicity; and so much ashamed of the almost ridiculously undue
ceremony of the rising, that I knew not what to do, nor how to
_comport_ myself. But they all still kept staringly upright, till Mr.
Jenyns, who was full dressed in a court suit, of apricot-coloured silk,
lined with white satin, made all the slow speed in his power, from the
less thus urged?—began an harangue the most elegantly complimentary,
upon the pleasure, and the honour, and the what not? of seeing, my dear
daddy, your very obedient and obsequious humble servant, and spinster,