27.  I went to-day into the City, to thank Stratford for my books, and dine with him, and settle my affairs of my money in the Bank, and receive a bill for Mrs. Wesley for some things I am to buy for her; and the d——­ a one of all these could I do.  The merchants were all out of town, and I was forced to go to a little hedge place for my dinner.  May my enemies live here in summer! and yet I am so unlucky that I cannot possibly be out of the way at this juncture.  People leave the town so late in summer, and return so late in winter, that they have almost inverted the seasons.  It is autumn this good while in St. James’s Park; the limes have been losing their leaves, and those remaining on the trees are all parched:  I hate this season, where everything grows worse and worse.  The only good thing of it is the fruit, and that I dare not eat.  Had you any fruit at Wexford?  A few cherries, and durst not eat them.  I do not hear we have yet got a new Privy Seal.  The Whigs whisper that our new Ministry differ among themselves, and they begin to talk out Mr. Secretary:  they have some reasons for their whispers, although I thought it was a greater secret.  I do not much like the posture of things; I always apprehended that any falling out would ruin them, and so I have told them several times.  The Whigs are mighty full of hopes at present; and whatever is the matter, all kind of stocks fall.  I have not yet talked with the Secretary about Prior’s journey.  I should be apt to think it may foretell a peace, and that is all we have to preserve us.  The Secretary is not come from Windsor, but I expect him to-morrow.  Burn all politics!

28.  We begin to have fine weather, and I walked to-day to Chelsea, and dined with the Dean of Carlisle, who is laid up with the gout.  It is now fixed that he is to be Dean of Christ Church in Oxford.  I was advising him to use his interest to prevent any misunderstanding between our Ministers; but he is too wise to meddle, though he fears the thing and the consequences as much as I. He will get into his own warm, quiet deanery, and leave them to themselves; and he is in the right.—­When I came home to-night, I found a letter from Mr. Lewis, who is now at Windsor; and in it, forsooth, another which looked like Presto’s hand; and what should it be but a 19th from MD?  O, faith, I ’scaped narrowly, for I sent my 28th but on Saturday; and what should I have done if I had two letters to answer at once?  I did not expect another from Wexford, that is certain.  Well, I must be contented; but you are dear saucy girls, for all that, to write so soon again, faith; an’t you?