either going or gone to Ireland, and has it with him.  I hear Mr. Lewis has two letters for me:  I could not call for them to-day, but will to-morrow; and perhaps one of them may be from our little MD, who knows, man? who can tell?  Many a more unlikely thing has happened.—­Pshaw, I write so plaguy little, I can hardly see it myself.  Write Bigger, sirrah[10] Presto.  No, but I won’t.  Oh, you are a saucy rogue, Mr. Presto, you are so impudent.  Come, dear rogues, let Presto go to sleep; I have been with the Dean, and ’tis near twelve.

30.  I am so hot and lazy after my morning’s walk, that I loitered at Mrs. Vanhomrigh’s, where my best gown and periwig are, and out of mere listlessness dine there very often; so I did to-day; but I got little MD’s letter, N.15 (you see, sirrahs, I remember to tell the number), from Mr. Lewis, and I read it in a closet they lend me at Mrs. Van’s; and I find Stella is a saucy rogue and a great writer, and can write finely still when her hand is in, and her pen good.  When I came here to-night, I had a mighty mind to go swim after I was cool, for my lodging is just by the river; and I went down with only my nightgown and slippers on at eleven, but came up again; however, one of these nights I will venture.

31.  I was so hot this morning with my walk, that I resolve to do so no more during this violent burning weather.  It is comical that now we happen to have such heat to ripen the fruit there has been the greatest blast that was ever known, and almost all the fruit is despaired of.  I dined with Lord Shelburne:  Lady Kerry and Mrs. Pratt are going to Ireland.  I went this evening to Lord Treasurer, and sat about two hours with him in mixed company; he left us, and went to Court, and carried two staves with him, so I suppose we shall have a new Lord Steward or Comptroller to-morrow; I smoked that State secret out by that accident.  I will not answer your letter yet, sirrahs; no I won’t, madam.

June 1.  I wish you a merry month of June.  I dined again with the Vans and Sir Andrew Fountaine.  I always give them a flask of my Florence, which now begins to spoil, but it is near an end.  I went this afternoon to Mrs. Vedeau’s, and brought away Madam Dingley’s parchment and letter of attorney.  Mrs. Vedeau tells me she has sent the bill a fortnight ago.  I will give the parchment to Ben Tooke, and you shall send him a letter of attorney at your leisure, enclosed to Mr. Presto.  Yes, I now think your mackerel is full as good as ours, which I did not think formerly.  I was bit about two staves, for there is no new officer made to-day.  This letter will find you still in Dublin, I suppose, or at Donnybrook, or losing your money at Walls’ (how does she do?).

2.  I missed this day by a blunder and dining in the City.[11]

3.  No boats on Sunday, never:  so I was forced to walk, and so hot by the time I got to Ford’s lodging that I was quite spent; I think the weather is mad.  I could not go to church.  I dined with the Secretary as usual, and old Colonel Graham[12] that lived at Bagshot Heath, and they said it was Colonel Graham’s house.  Pshaw, I remember it very well, when I used to go for a walk to London from Moor Park.  What, I warrant you do not remember the Golden Farmer[13] neither, figgarkick soley?[14]