I was this morning with Mr. Secretary:  we are both of opinion that the queen is false.  He gave me reasons to believe the whole matter is settled between the queen and the Whigs.  Things are now in a crisis, and a day or two will determine.  I have desired him to engage Lord Treasurer to send, me abroad as Queen’s Secretary somewhere or other, where I will remain till the new Ministers recall me; and then I will be sick for five or six months, till the storm has spent itself.  I hope he will grant me this; for I should hardly trust myself to the mercy of my enemies while their anger is fresh.

Morning.  They say the Occasional Bill is brought to-day into the House of Lords; but I know not.  I will now put an end to my letter, and give it into the post-house with my own fair hands.  This will be a memorable letter, and I shall sigh to see it some years hence.  Here are the first steps towards the ruin of an excellent Ministry; for I look upon them as certainly ruined; and God knows what may be the consequence.—­I now bid my dearest MD farewell; for company is coming, and I must be at Lord Dartmouth’s office by noon.  Farewell, dearest MD; I wish you a merry Christmas; I believe you will have this about that time.  Love Presto, who loves MD above all things a thousand times.  Farewell again, dearest MD.

LONDON, Dec. 20, 1711.

I was with the Secretary this morning, and, for aught I can see, we shall have a languishing death:  I can know nothing, nor themselves neither.  I dined, you know, with our Society, and that odious Secretary would make me President next week; so I must entertain them this day se’night at the Thatched House Tavern:  it will cost me five or six pounds; yet the Secretary says he will give me wine.

Saturday night.  I have broken open my letter, and tore it into the bargain, to let you know that we are all safe:  the queen has made no less than twelve Lords to have a majority; nine new ones, the other three peers’ sons; and has turned out the Duke of Somerset.  She is awaked at last, and so is Lord Treasurer:  I want nothing now but to see the Duchess out.  But we shall do without her.  We are all extremely happy.  Give me joy, sirrahs.  This is written in a coffee-house.

LONDON, Feb. 26, 1712.

I was again busy with the Secretary.  I dined with him, and we were to do more business after dinner; but after dinner is after dinner—­an old saying and a true, “much drinking, little thinking.”  We had company with us, and nothing could be done, so I am to go there again to-morrow.

To-day in the morning I visited upwards:  first I saw the Duke of Ormond below stairs, and gave him joy of being declared General in Flanders; then I went up one pair of stairs, and sat with the duchess; then I went up another pair of stairs, and paid a visit to Lady Betty; and then desired her woman to go up to the garret, that I might pass half an hour with her, for she was young and handsome, but she would not.