ers, and will neither read them nor give them to me; and I can hardly
do anything. Very warm slabby weather, but I made a shift to get a walk;
yet I lost half of it, by shaking off Lord Rochester,(6) who is a
good, civil, simple man. The Bishop of Ossory will not be Bishop of
Hereford,(7) to the great grief of himself and his wife. And hat is MD
doing now, I wonder? Playing at cards with the Dean and Mrs. Walls? I
think it is not certain yet that Maccartney is escaped. I am plagued
with bad authors, verse and prose, who send me their books and poems,
the vilest trash I ever saw; but I have given their names to my man,
never to let them see me. I have got new ink, and 'tis very white; and
I don't see that it turns black at all. I'll go to seep; 'tis past
twelve.--Nite, MD.

8. Oo must understand that I am in my geers, and have got a
chocolate-pot, a present from Mrs. Ashe of Clogher, and some chocolate
from my brother Ormond, and I treat folks sometimes. I dined with
Lord Treasurer at five o'clock to-day, and was by while he and Lord
Bolingbroke were at business; for it is fit I should know all that
passes now, because, etc. The Duke of Ormond employed me to speak to
Lord Treasurer to-day about an affair, and I did so; and the Duke had
spoke himself two hours before, which vexed me, and I will chide the
Duke about it. I'll tell you a good thing; there is not one of the
Ministry but what will employ me as gravely to speak for them to Lord
Treasurer as if I were their brother or his; and I do it as gravely:
though I know they do it only because they will not make themselves
uneasy, or had rather I should be denied than they. I believe our peace
will not be finished these two months; for I think we must have a
return from Spain by a messenger, who will not go till Sunday next.
Lord Treasurer has invited me to dine with him again to-morrow. Your
Commissioner, Keatley,(8) is to be there. Nite dee richar MD.(9)

9. Dr. Pratt drank chocolate with me this morning, and then we walked. I
was yesterday with him to see Lady Betty Butler, grieving for her sister
Ashburnham. The jade was in bed in form, and she did so cant, she made
me sick. I meet Tom Leigh every day in the Park, to preserve his
health. He is as ruddy as a rose, and tells me his Bishop of Dromore(10)
recovers very much. That Bishop has been very near dying. This day's
Examiner talks of the play of "What is it like?"(11) and you will think
it to be mine, and be bit;