pers that have come out of late.
The author seems to be a Whig, yet he speaks very highly of a paper
called the Examiner, and says the supposed author of it is Dr. Swift.
But above all things he praises the Tatlers and Spectators; and I
believe Steele and Addison were privy to the printing of it. Thus is one
treated by these impudent dogs. And that villain Curll(7) has scraped
up some trash, and calls it Dr. Swift's Miscellanies, with the name at
large: and I can get no satisfaction of him. Nay, Mr. Harley told me
he had read it, and only laughed at me before Lord Keeper and the
rest. Since I came home, I have been sitting with the Prolocutor, Dean
Atterbury, who is my neighbour over the way, but generally keeps in town
with his Convocation. 'Tis late, etc.

15. My walk to town to-day was after ten, and prodigiously hot. I dined
with Lord Shelburne, and have desired Mrs. Pratt, who lodges there, to
carry over Mrs. Walls's tea; I hope she will do it, and they talk of
going in a fortnight. My way is this: I leave my best gown and periwig
at Mrs. Vanhomrigh's, then walk up the Pall Mall, through the Park, out
at Buckingham House, and so to Chelsea a little beyond the church: I set
out about sunset, and get here in something less than an hour; it is two
good miles, and just five thousand seven hundred and forty-eight steps;
so there is four miles a day walking, without reckoning what I walk
while I stay in town. When I pass the Mall in the evening, it is
prodigious to see the number of ladies walking there; and I always cry
shame at the ladies of Ireland, who never walk at all, as if their legs
were of no use, but to be laid aside. I have been now almost three
weeks here, and I thank God, am much better in my head, if it does but
continue. I tell you what, if I was with you, when we went to Stoyte at
Donnybrook, we would only take a coach to the hither end of Stephen's
Green, and from thence go every step on foot, yes, faith, every step;
it would do DD(8) good as well as Presto.(9) Everybody tells me I
look better already; for, faith, I looked sadly, that is certain. My
breakfast is milk porridge: I do not love it; faith, I hate it, but
it is cheap and wholesome; and I hate to be obliged to either of those
qualities for anything.(10)

16. I wonder why Presto will be so tedious in answering MD's letters;
because he would keep the best to the last, I suppose. Well, Presto must
be humoured, it must be as he will have it, or t