“He laughed aloud at this, and went and told it to Mrs. Delany, civilly treating a plain fact as a mere _bon mot_.” The King asked several other questions about Evelina, and the prospect of anything further appearing from the author’s pen. A change of subject led to the mention of hunting, when, looking round on the party, he said: ‘Did you know that Mrs. Delany once hunted herself, and in a long gown and a great hoop?’ As he spoke, a violent thunder was heard at the door. Fanny again felt herself sinking into the carpet. Miss Port slid out of the room backwards, and lights shone in the hall. Enter the Queen. Her Majesty drops a profound reverence to the King, holds out both hands to her dear Mrs. Delany, and then turns her face on the short-sighted stranger, who, uncertain whether she has received a salute or not, is bewildered what to do. The King comes to her relief, repeats to his consort all that Miss Burney has already told him, and proceeds with a further catechism. The Queen, more curious about the future than the past, has questions of her own to put. ‘Shall we have no more?— nothing more?’ she asks. Fanny can only shake her head in reply, and when gracious phrases of regret and encouragement are uttered, is unable to find a word of acknowledgment. Presently the conversation, becoming general, ranges over a variety of topics, from the exemplary behaviour of the Princess Sophia, aged nearly nine, in guarding her music-master’s great nose from ridicule, to Bishop Porteous’s sermons, which the King thought that admired preacher would do wrong to publish, because every discourse printed would diminish his stock for the pulpit.