“_Mr. Brudenel._—‘But where is Lord March all this time?’
“_Lady Edgcumbe_ (laughing).—‘Lord March? O,——he, you know, is First Lord of the Bedchamber!’—
“He is a Russian nobleman, who travels with Prince Orloff; and he preceded his Highness with fresh apologies, and a desire that the concert might not wait, as he would only shew himself at Lady Harrington’s, and hasten hither.
“My father then attended Lady Edgcumbe to the Library, and Mr. Burney took his place at the harpsichord.
“We all followed. He was extremely admired; but I have nothing new to tell you upon that subject.
“Then enter Mr. Chamier. Then followed several others; and then
“Susan and I quite delighted in his sight, he is so amiable to talk with, and so benevolent to look at. Lady Edgcumbe rose to meet him, saying he was her particular old friend. He then placed himself by Susan and me, and renewed acquaintance in the most pleasing manner possible. I told him we were all afraid he would be tired to death of so much of one thing, for we had nothing to offer him but again the duet. ‘That is the very reason I solicited to come,’ he answered; ‘I was so much charmed the last time, that I begged Dr. Burney to give me a repetition of the same pleasure.’
“‘Then—of course, the opera? The Gabrielli?’
“Mr. Harris declared himself her partizan.
“Lady Edgcumbe warmed up ardently for Agajari.
“_Mr. Dean._—‘But pray, Dr. Burney, why should not these two melodious signoras sing together, that we might judge them fairly?’
“_Dr. Burney._—‘Oh! the rivalry would be too strong. It would create a musical war. It would be Cæsar and Pompey.’
“_Lady Edgcumbe._—‘Pompey the Little, then, I am sure would be la Gabrielli!’
“He is a younger brother not only of the Duke of Montagu, but of his Honour Brudenel. How the titles came to be so awkwardly arranged in this family is no affair of mine; so you will excuse my sending you to the Herald’s Office, if you want that information, my dear Mr. Crisp; though as you are one of the rare personages who are skilled in every thing yourself,—at least so says my father;—and he is a Doctor, you know!—I dare say you will genealogize the matter to me at once, when next I come to dear Chesington.
“He is tall, thin, and plain, but remarkably sensible, agreeable, and polite; as, I believe, are very generally all those keen looking Scotchmen; for Scotch, not from his accent, but his name, I conclude him of course. Can Bruce be other than Scotch? They are far more entertaining, I think, as well as informing, taken in the common run, than we silentious English; who, taken _en masse_, are tolerably dull.