low. And yet it was a pity, if
God pleased. He was a good man; not very learned: I believe he died but
poor. Did he leave any charity legacies? who held up his pall? was there
a great sight of clergy? do they design a tomb for him?--Are you sure
it was the Bishop of London? because there is an elderly gentleman here
that we give the same title to: or did you fancy all this in your water,
as others do strange things in their wine? They say these waters trouble
the head, and make people imagine what never came to pass. Do you make
no more of killing a Bishop? are these your Whiggish tricks?--Yes, yes,
I see you are in a fret. O, faith, says you, saucy Presto, I'll break
your head; what, can't one report what one hears, without being made
a jest and a laughing-stock? Are these your English tricks, with a
murrain? And Sacheverell will be the next Bishop? He would be glad of an
addition of two hundred pounds a year to what he has, and that is more
than they will give him, for aught I see. He hates the new Ministry
mortally, and they hate him, and pretend to despise him too. They will
not allow him to have been the occasion of the late change; at least
some of them will not: but my Lord Keeper owned it to me the other day.
No, Mr. Addison does not go to Ireland this year: he pretended he would;
but he is gone to Bath with Pastoral Philips, for his eyes.--So now I
have run over your letter; and I think this shall go to-morrow, which
will be just a fortnight from the last, and bring things to the old form
again, after your rambles to Wexford, and mine to Windsor. Are there not
many literal faults in my letters? I never read them over, and I fancy
there are. What do you do then? do you guess my meaning, or are you
acquainted with my manner of mistaking? I lost my handkerchief in the
Mall to-night with Lord Radnor; but I made him walk with me to find it,
and find it I did not. Tisdall(26) (that lodges with me) and I have had
no conversation, nor do we pull off our hats in the streets. There is a
cousin of his (I suppose,) a young parson, that lodges in the house
too; a handsome, genteel fellow. Dick Tighe(27) and his wife lodged over
against us; and he has been seen, out of our upper windows, beating her
two or three times: they are both gone to Ireland, but not together; and
he solemnly vows never to live with her. Neighbours do not stick to
say that she has a tongue: in short, I am told she is the most urging,
provoking devil tha