March 1.  Morning.  I have been calling to Patrick to look in his almanac for the day of the month; I did not know but it might be leap-year.  The almanac says ’tis the third after leap-year; and I always thought till now, that every third year was leap-year.  I am glad they come so seldom; but I’m sure ’twas otherwise when I was a young man; I see times are mightily changed since then.—­Write to me, sirrahs; be sure do by the time this side is done, and I’ll keep t’other side for the answer:  so I’ll go write to the Bishop of Clogher; good-morrow, sirrahs.—­Night.  I dined to-day at Mrs. Vanhomrigh’s, being a rainy day; and Lady Betty Butler, knowing it, sent to let me know she expected my company in the evening, where the Vans (so we call them) were to be.  The Duchess[5] and they do not go over this summer with the Duke; so I go to bed.

2.  This rainy weather undoes me in coaches and chairs.  I was traipsing to-day with your Mr. Sterne, to go along with them to Moore,[6] and recommend his business to the Treasury.  Sterne tells me his dependence is wholly on me; but I have absolutely refused to recommend it to Mr. Harley, because I have troubled him lately so much with other folks’ affairs; and besides, to tell the truth, Mr. Harley told me he did not like Sterne’s business:  however, I will serve him, because I suppose MD would have me.  But, in saying his dependence lies wholly on me, he lies, and is a fool.  I dined with Lord Abercorn, whose son Peasley[7] will be married at Easter to ten thousand pounds.

3.  I forgot to tell you that yesterday morning I was at Mr. Harley’s levee:  he swore I came in spite, to see him among a parcel of fools.  My business was to desire I might let the Duke of Ormond know how the affair stood of the First-Fruits.  He promised to let him know it, and engaged me to dine with him to-day.  Every Saturday, Lord Keeper, Secretary St. John, and I dine with him, and sometimes Lord Rivers; and they let in none else.  Patrick brought me some letters into the Park; among which one was from Walls; and t’other, yes, faith, t’other was from our little MD, N.11.  I read the rest in the Park, and MD’s in a chair as I went from St. James’s to Mr. Harley; and glad enough I was, faith, to read it, and see all right.  Oh, but I won’t answer it these three or four days at least, or may be sooner.  An’t I silly? faith, your letters would make a dog silly, if I had a dog to be silly, but it must be a little dog.—­I stayed with Mr. Harley till past nine, where we had much discourse together after the rest were gone; and I gave him very truly my opinion where he desired it.  He complained he was not very well, and has engaged me to dine with him again on Monday.  So I came home afoot, like a fine gentleman, to tell you all this.