eard the little bird
say so. Well, I have answered everything in your letter that required
it, and yet the second side is not full. I'll come home at night, and
say more; and to-morrow this goes for certain. Go, get you gone to your
own chambers, and let Presto rise like a modest gentleman, and walk to
town. I fancy I begin to sweat less in the forehead by constant walking
than I used to do; but then I shall be so sunburnt, the ladies will not
like me. Come, let me rise, sirrahs. Morrow.--At night. I dined with
Ford to-day at his lodgings, and I found wine out of my own cellar, some
of my own chest of the great Duke's wine: it begins to turn. They say
wine with you in Ireland is half a crown a bottle. 'Tis as Stella says;
nothing that once grows dear in Ireland ever grows cheap again, except
corn, with a pox, to ruin the parson. I had a letter to-day from the
Archbishop of Dublin, giving me further thanks about vindicating him
to Mr. Harley and Mr. St. John, and telling me a long story about your
Mayor's election,(24) wherein I find he has had a finger, and given
way to further talk about him; but we know nothing of it here yet. This
walking to and fro, and dressing myself, takes up so much of my time
that I cannot go among company so much as formerly; yet what must a body
do? I thank God I yet continue much better since I left the town; I know
not how long it may last. I am sure it has done me some good for the
present. I do not totter as I did, but walk firm as a cock, only once
or twice for a minute, I do not know how; but it went off, and I never
followed it. Does Dingley read my hand as well as ever? do you, sirrah?
Poor Stella must not read Presto's ugly small hand.

Preserve your eyes,
If you be wise.

Your friend Walls's tea will go in a day or two towards Chester by one
Parson Richardson. My humble service to her, and to good Mrs. Stoyte,
and Catherine; and pray walk while you continue in Dublin. I expect your
next but one will be from Wexford. God bless dearest MD.

24. Morning. Mr. Secretary has sent his groom hither, to invite me to
dinner to-day, etc. God Almighty for ever bless and preserve you both,
and give you health, etc. Amen. Farewell, etc.

Do not I often say the same thing two or three times in the same letter,
sirrah?

Great wits, they say, have but short memories; that's good vile
conversation.

LETTER 24.

CHELSEA, May 24, 1711.

Morning. Once in my life the number of