17.  Morning.  I have put your letter before me, and am going to answer it.  Hold your tongue:  stand by.  Your weather and ours were not alike; we had not a bit of hot weather in June, yet you complain of it on the 19th day.  What, you used to love hot weather then?  I could never endure it:  I detest and abominate it.  I would not live in a hot country, to be king of it.  What a splutter you keep about my bonds with Raymond, and all to affront Presto!  Presto will be suspicious of everything but MD, in spite of your little nose.  Soft and fair, Madam Stella, how you gallop away, in your spleen and your rage, about repenting my journey, and preferment here, and sixpence a dozen, and nasty England, and Laracor all my life.  Hey-dazy, will you never have done?  I had no offers of any living.  Lord Keeper told me some months ago he would give me one when I pleased; but I told him I would not take any from him; and the Secretary told me t’other day he had refused a very good one for me, but it was in a place he did not like; and I know nothing of getting anything here, and, if they would give me leave, I would come over just now.  Addison, I hear, has changed his mind about going over; but I have not seen him these four months.—­Oh ay, that’s true, Dingley; that’s like herself:  millions of businesses to do before she goes.  Yes, my head has been pretty well, but threatening within these two or three days, which I impute to some fruit I ate; but I will eat no more:  not a bit of any sort.  I suppose you had a journey without dust, and that was happy.  I long for a Wexford letter, but must not think of it yet:  your last was finished but three weeks ago.  It is d——­d news you tell me of Mrs. F——­; it makes me love England less a great deal.  I know nothing of the trunk being left or taken; so ’tis odd enough, if the things in it were mine; and I think I was told that there are some things for me that my mother left particularly to me.  I am really sorry for -----; that scoundrel ----- will have his estate after his mother’s death.  Let me know if Mrs. Walls has got her tea:  I hope Richardson[18] stayed in Dublin till it came.  Mrs. Walls needed not have that blemish in her eye; for I am not in love with her at all.  No, I do not like anything in the Examiner after the 45th, except the first part of the 46th;[19] all the rest is trash; and if you like them, especially the 47th, your judgment is spoiled by ill company and want of reading, which I am more sorry for than you think:  and I have spent fourteen years in improving you to little purpose. (Mr. Tooke is come here, and I must stop.)—­At night.  I dined with Lord Treasurer to-day, and he kept me till nine; so I cannot send this to-night, as I intended, nor write some other letters.  Green,[20] his surgeon, was there, and dressed his breast; that is, put on a plaster, which is still requisite:  and I took an opportunity to speak to him of the Queen; but he cut me short with this saying, “Laissez