It has happened comically enough that Lady Lucy, who, by-the-bye, is amorously disposed, has fallen in love with Mr. Adderley. The event of the amour does not promise successfully for her, as he is in no ways inclined to give a favourable ear to her passion, though probably, like all persons beloved, his vanity would so far conquer his natural good nature, that he would not object to her making a fool of herself on his account. He wishes to stay longer than originally intended, but he had better go, and probably will. T. perfectly ridiculous, quite my shadow. Went on Monday to _Pizarro_, Sheridan and Tierney, Adderley, etc. The first came into my box perpetually to explain whenever there was a failure in the representation. I was surprised at his eagerness, and glad to find that drinking has not so totally absorbed his faculties, and that he is still sensible to fame. About him my reason and impulse always are at variance; reflection convinces me he ought to be despised for his private life and doubted for his political, but whenever I see him, if but for five minutes, a sort of cheerful frankness and pleasant wittiness puts to flight all ye reasonable prejudices that I entertain against him. Francis[295] diverted me excessively the other morning. I got up unusually late, and, whilst at my toilet, I was told he had been in the library some time. Ld. H. was still in bed, and as he is at times amusing, I sent to say I would receive him as I dressed. He came to my door, and there paused, saying, ‘Are you sure the person you sent for was _me_? Can such a favour be intended _me_? What? Will you really admit _me_ into your private room?’ When I repeated the invitation, he was delighted. He is very vain, and any distinction quite turns his head, especially from people he rather calls great folks. Ld. Ossory came soon, and asked what had happened to put Francis into such spirits, as his eyes glistened with delight.