it not silly to write all this? but it gives you an idea what our conversation is with mixed company.  I have taken a lodging in Suffolk Street, and go to it on Thursday; and design to walk the Park and the town, to supply my walking here:  yet I will walk here sometimes too, in a visit now and then to the Dean.[6] When I was almost at home, Patrick told me he had two letters for me, and gave them to me in the dark, yet I could see one of them was from saucy MD.  I went to visit the Dean for half an hour; and then came home, and first read the other letter, which was from the Bishop of Clogher, who tells me the Archbishop of Dublin mentioned in a full assembly of the clergy the Queen’s granting the First-Fruits, said it was done by the Lord Treasurer, and talked much of my merit in it:  but reading yours I find nothing of that:  perhaps the Bishop lies, out of a desire to please me.  I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh.  Well, sirrahs, you are gone to Wexford; but I’ll follow you.

4.  Sterne came to me again this morning, to advise about reasons and memorials he is drawing up; and we went to town by water together; and having nothing to do, I stole into the City to an instrument of mine, and then went to see poor Patty Rolt,[7] who has been in town these two months with a cousin of hers.  Her life passes with boarding in some country town as cheap as she can, and, when she runs out, shifting to some cheaper place, or coming to town for a month.  If I were rich, I would ease her, which a little thing would do.  Some months ago I sent her a guinea, and it patched up twenty circumstances.  She is now going to Berkhamstead in Hertfordshire.  It has rained and hailed prodigiously to-day, with some thunder.  This is the last night I lie at Chelsea; and I got home early, and sat two hours with the Dean, and ate victuals, having had a very scurvy dinner.  I’ll answer your letter when I come to live in town.  You shall have a fine London answer:  but first I will go sleep, and dream of MD.

London, July 5.  This day I left Chelsea for good (that’s a genteel phrase), and am got into Suffolk Street.  I dined to-day at our Society, and we are adjourned for a month, because most of us go into the country:  we dined at Lord Keeper’s with young Harcourt, and Lord Keeper was forced to sneak off, and dine with Lord Treasurer, who had invited the Secretary and me to dine with him; but we scorned to leave our company, as George Granville did, whom we have threatened to expel:  however, in the evening I went to Lord Treasurer, and, among other company, found a couple of judges with him; one of them, Judge Powell,[8] an old fellow with grey hairs, was the merriest old gentleman I ever saw, spoke pleasant things, and laughed and chuckled till he cried again.  I stayed till eleven, because I was not now to walk to Chelsea.