ery which hung over the Vauxhall duel had served only to add to her
fame.

Dorothy having become cognizant of Mr. Marmaduke's trickery, Chartersea
seemed to have dropped out of the race. He now spent his time very
evenly between Spa and Derresley and Paris. Hence I had so much to
be thankful for,--that with all my blunders, I had saved her from his
Grace. My Lord the Marquis of Wells was now most conspicuous amongst her
suitors. Comyn had nothing particular against this nobleman, saying that
he was a good fellow, with a pretty fortune. And here is a letter,
my dears, in which he figures, that I brought to Cordon's Pride that
spring:

"10 SOUTH PARADE, BATH,
"March 12, 1774.

"DEAR RICHARD:--Miss Manners has come to Bath, with a train behind
her longer than that which followed good Queen Anne hither, when she
made this Gehenna the fashion. Her triumphal entry last Wednesday
was announced by such a peal of the abbey bells as must have cracked
the metal (for they have not rung since) and started Beau Nash
a-cursing where he lies under the floor. Next came her serenade by
the band. Mr. Marmaduke swore they would never have done, and
squirmed and grinned like Punch when he thought of the fee, for he
had hoped to get off with a crown, I warrant you. You should have
seen his face when they would accept no fee at all for the beauty!
Some wag has writ a verse about it, which was printed, and has set
the whole pump-room laughing this morning.

"She was led out by Wells in the Seasons last night. As Spring she
is too bewildering for my pen,--all primrose and white, with the
flowers in her blue-black hair. Had Sir Joshua seen her, he would
never rest content till he should have another portrait. The Duc de
Lauzun, who contrived to get two dances, might give you a
description in a more suitable language than English. And there was
a prodigious deal of jealousy among the fair ones on the benches,
you may be sure, and much jaundiced comment.

"Some half dozen of us adorers have a mess at the Bear, and have
offered up a prize for the most appropriate toast on the beauty.
This is in competition with Mrs. Miller. Have you not heard of her
among your tobacco-hills? Horry calls her Mrs. 'Calliope' Miller.
At her place near here, Bath Easton Villa, she has set up a Roman
vase bedecked with myrtle, and into this we drop o