“Oh, yes, very much so—perfectly good-humoured and unaffected. And her horse was led, and she was frightened; and we told her that was the hare, and that was the dog; and the dog pointed to the hare, and the hare ran away from the dog and then she took courage, and then she was timid;—and, upon my word, she did it all very prettily! For my part, I liked it so well, that in half an hour I took to my own horse, and rode away.”
MR. CRUTCHLEY IS BANTERED ABOUT HIS PRIDE.
While we were at church on Sunday morning, we heard a sermon, upon which, by means of a speech I chanced to make, we have been talking ever since. The subject was treating of humility, and declaiming against pride; in the midst of which Mrs. Thrale whispered—
“This sermon is all against us; that is, four of us: Queeny, Burney, Susan, and I, are all as proud as possible—Mr. Crutchley and Sophy[141] are humble enough.”
“Good heavens!” cried I, “Mr. Crutchley!—why he is the proudest among us!”
This speech she instantly repeated, and just at that moment the preacher said—“Those—who are the weakest are ever the soonest puffed up.”
He instantly made me a bow, with an expressive laugh, that thanked me for the compliment. To be sure it happened most untimely.
As soon as we came out of church, he called out—
“Well, Miss Burney, this is what I never can forgive! Am I so proud?”