Sunday, Aug. 6—This morning, before church, Miss Planta was sent to me by the queen, for some snuff, to be mixed as before: when I had prepared it, I carried it, as directed, to her majesty's dressing-room. I turned round the lock, for that, not rapping at the door, is the mode of begging admission; and she called out to me to come in.

I found her reading, aloud, some religious book, but I could not discover what, to the three eldest princesses. Miss Planta was in waiting. She continued after my entrance, only motioning to me that the snuff might be put into a box on the table.

I did not execute my task very expeditiously: for I was glad of this opportunity of witnessing, the maternal piety with which she enforced, in voice and expression, every sentence that contained any lesson that might be useful to her royal daughters. She reads extremely well, with great force, clearness, and meaning.

Just as I had slowly finished my commission, the king entered. She then stopped, and rose; so instantly did the princesses. He had a letter in his hand open: he said something to the queen in German, and they left the room together but he turned round from the door, and first spoke to me, with a good-humoured laugh, saying, “Miss Burney, I hear you cook snuff very well!”

“Cook snuff!” repeated the Princess Augusta, laughing and coming up to me the moment they left the room. “Pray, Miss Burney, let me have one pinch!” The Princess Elizabeth ran up to me, also, exclaiming, “Miss Burney, I hope you hate snuff? I hope you do, for I hate it of all things in the world!”