f rain last
night, very refreshing. 'Tis late, and I must rise. Don't play at ombre
in your waters, sollah. Farewell, deelest MD, MD MD MD FW FW ME ME ME
Lele Lele Lele.

LETTER 51.(1)

LONDON, Aug. 7, 1712.

I had your N.32 at Windsor: I just read it, and immediately sealed it up
again, and shall read it no more this twelvemonth at least. The reason
of my resentment at it is, because you talk as glibly of a thing as if
it were done, which, for aught I know, is farther from being done than
ever, since I hear not a word of it, though the town is full of it, and
the Court always giving me joy and vexation. You might be sure I would
have let you know as soon as it was done; but I believe you fancied I
would affect not to tell it you, but let you learn it from newspapers
and reports. I remember only there was something in your letter about
ME's money, and that shall be taken care of on the other side. I left
Windsor on Monday last, upon Lord Bolingbroke's being gone to France,
and somebody's being here that I ought often to consult with in an
affair I am upon: but that person talks of returning to Windsor again,
and I believe I shall follow him. I am now in a hedge-lodging very busy,
as I am every day till noon: so that this letter is like to be short,
and you are not to blame me these two months; for I protest, if I study
ever so hard, I cannot in that time compass what I am upon. We have
a fever both here and at Windsor, which hardly anybody misses; but it
lasts not above three or four days, and kills nobody.(2) The Queen has
forty servants down of it at once. I dined yesterday with Treasurer, but
could do no business, though he sent for me, I thought, on purpose;
but he desires I will dine with him again to-day. Windsor is a most
delightful place, and at this time abounds in dinners. My lodgings there
look upon Eton and the Thames. I wish I was owner of them; they belong
to a prebend. God knows what was in your letter; and if it be not
answered, whose fault is it, sauci dallars?--Do you know that Grub
Street is dead and gone last week? No more ghosts or murders now for
love or money. I plied it pretty close the last fortnight, and published
at least seven penny papers of my own, besides some of other people's:
but now every single half-sheet pays a halfpenny to the Queen.(3) The
Observator is fallen; the Medleys are jumbled together with the Flying
Post; the Examiner is deadly sick; the Spectator keeps up, and d