hty merry. So back again late, it being wondrous hot
all the day and night and it lightning exceeding all the way we went and
came, but without thunder. Coming home we called at a little ale-house,
and had an eele pye, of which my wife eat part and brought home the
rest. So being come home we to supper and to bed. This day come our new
cook maid Mary, commended by Mrs. Batters.

11th. Up betimes, and then away with Mr. Yeabsly to my Lord Ashly's,
whither by and by comes Sir H. Cholmly and Creed, and then to my Lord,
and there entered into examination of Mr. Yeabsly's accounts, wherein as
in all other things I find him one of the most distinct men that ever
I did see in my life. He raised many scruples which were to be answered
another day and so parted, giving me an alarme how to provide myself
against the day of my passing my accounts. Thence I to Westminster to
look after the striking of my tallys, but nothing done or to be done
therein. So to the 'Change, to speake with Captain Cocke, among other
things about getting of the silver plates of him, which he promises
to do; but in discourse he tells me that I should beware of my
fellow-officers; and by name told me that my Lord Bruncker should say in
his hearing, before Sir W. Batten, of me, that he could undo the man, if
he would; wherein I think he is a foole; but, however, it is requisite
I be prepared against the man's friendship. Thence home to dinner alone,
my wife being abroad. After dinner to the setting some things in order
in my dining-room; and by and by comes my wife home and Mrs. Pierce
with her, so I lost most of this afternoon with them, and in the evening
abroad with them, our long tour by coach, to Hackney, so to Kingsland,
and then to Islington, there entertaining them by candlelight very well,
and so home with her, set her down, and so home and to bed.

12th. Up to the office very betimes to draw up a letter for the Duke of
Yorke relating to him the badness of our condition in this office for
want of money. That being in good time done we met at the office and
there sat all the morning. At noon home, where I find my wife troubled
still at my checking her last night in the coach in her long stories out
of Grand Cyrus, which she would tell, though nothing to the purpose, nor
in any good manner.

[Sir Walter Scott observes, in his "Life of Dryden," that the
romances of Calprenede and Scuderi, those ponderous and unmerciful
folios, now con