oad, so did the Secretary, and I was left in the suds. 'Twas almost
four, and I got to Sir Matthew Dudley, who had half dined. Thornhill,
who killed Sir Cholmley Dering,(15) was murdered by two men, on Turnham
Green, last Monday night: as they stabbed him, they bid him remember Sir
Cholmley Dering. They had quarrelled at Hampton Court, and followed and
stabbed him on horseback. We have only a Grub Street paper of it, but I
believe it is true. I went myself through Turnham Green the same night,
which was yesterday.

22. We have had terrible rains these two or three days. I intended to
dine at Lord Treasurer's, but went to see Lady Abercorn, who is come
to town, and my lord; and I dined with them, and visited Lord Treasurer
this evening. His porter is mending. I sat with my lord about
three hours, and am come home early to be busy. Passing by White's
Chocolate-house,(16) my brother Masham called me, and told me his wife
was brought to bed of a boy, and both very well. (Our Society, you must
know, are all brothers.) Dr. Garth told us that Mr. Henley(17) is dead
of an apoplexy. His brother-in-law, Earl Poulett, is gone down to the
Grange, to take care of his funeral. The Earl of Danby,(18) the Duke of
Leeds's eldest grandson, a very hopeful young man of about twenty, is
dead at Utrecht of the smallpox.--I long to know whether you begin
to have any good effect by your waters.--Methinks this letter goes on
slowly; 'twill be a fortnight next Saturday since it was begun, and one
side not filled. O fie for shame, Presto! Faith, I'm so tosticated to
and from Windsor, that I know not what to say; but, faith, I'll go to
Windsor again on Saturday, if they ask me, not else. So lose your money
again, now you are come home; do, sirrah.

Take your magnifying-glass, Madam Dingley.

You shan't read this, sirrah Stella; don't read it for your life, for
fear of your dearest eyes.

There's enough for this side; these Ministers hinder me. Pretty, dear,
little, naughty, saucy MD.

Silly, impudent, loggerhead Presto.

23. Dilly and I dined to-day with Lord Abercorn, and had a fine fat
haunch of venison, that smelt rarely on one side: and after dinner
Dilly won half a crown of me at backgammon at his lodgings, to his great
content. It is a scurvy empty town this melancholy season of the year;
but I think our weather begins to mend. The roads are as deep as in
winter. The grapes are sad things; but the peaches are pretty good, and
there ar