d of,--Oh, with how much impertinence! as if she was at the
service of any man who would make proposals to her! Yet Mr. Seward
spoke of her with praise and tenderness all the time, as if, though
firmly of this opinion, he was warmly her admirer. From such admirers
and such admiration Heaven guard me! Mr. Crutchley said but little;
but that little was bitter enough.

"'However,' said Mr. Seward, 'after all that can be said, there is
nobody whose manners are more engaging, nobody more amiable than the
little Sophy; and she is certainly very pretty; I must own I have
always been afraid to trust myself with her.'

"Here Mr. Crutchley looked very sneeringly.

"'Nay, 'squire,' cried Mr. Seward, 'she is very dangerous, I can tell
you; and if she had you at a fair trial, she would make an impression
that would soften-even your hard heart.'

"'No need of any further trial,' said he, laughing, 'for she has done
that already; and so soft was the impression that it absolutely all
dissolved!--melted quite away, and not a trace of it left!'

"Mr. Seward then proposed that she should marry Sir John Miller, who
has just lost his wife; and very gravely said, he had a great mind to
set out for Tunbridge, and carry her with him to Bath, and so make
the match without delay!

"'But surely,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'if you fail, you will think
yourself bound in honour to marry her yourself?'

"'Why, that's the thing,' said he; 'no, I can't take the little Sophy
myself; I should have too many rivals; rivals; no, that won't do.'

"How abominably conceited and _sure_ these pretty gentlemen are!
However, Mr. Crutchley here made a speech that half won my heart.

"'I wish,' said he, 'Miss Streatfield was here at this moment to cuff
you, Seward!'

"'Cuff me,' cried he. 'What, the little Sophy!--and why?'

"'For disposing of her so freely. I think a man deserves to be cuffed
for saying _any_ lady will marry him.'

"I seconded this speech with much approbation."

"_London, Jan._ 1783.--Before they went came Miss Streatfield,
looking pale, but very elegant and pretty. She was in high spirits,
and I hope has some reason. She made, at least, speeches that
provoked such surmises. When the Jacksons went,--

"'That,' said I, 'is the celebrated Jackson of Exeter; I dare say you
would like him if you knew him.'

"'I dare say I should,' cried she, simpering; 'for he has the two
requisites for me,--he is tall and thin.'

"To be sure, this did not