“'Tis impossible,” cried Mr. Burke, “it cost me three days and you know I never parted with it from the time I first opened it.”
A WRITER OF ROMANCES.
Soon after the parties changed again and young Mr. Burke[164] came and sat by me. He is a very civil and obliging, and a sensible and agreeable young man. Old Lady Galway trotted from her corner, in the middle of the evening, and leaning her hands upon the backs of two chairs, put her little round head through two fine high dressed ladies on purpose to peep at me, and then trotted back to her place! Ha, ha!
Miss Monckton now came to us again, and I congratulated her upon her power in making Dr. Johnson sit in a group upon which she immediately said to him,—
“Sir, Miss Burney says you like best to sit in a circle.”
“Does she?” said he, laughing; “Ay, never mind what she says. Don't you know she is a writer of romances?”
“Yes, that I do, indeed,” said Miss Monckton, and every one joined in a laugh that put me horribly out of countenance.
“She may write romances and speak truth,” said my dear Sir Joshua, who, as well as young Burke, and Mr. Metcalf, and two strangers, joined now in our little party.
“But, indeed, Dr. Johnson,” said Miss Monckton, “you must see Mrs. Siddons. Won't you see her in some fine part?”