27.  I forgot to go about some business this morning, which cost me double the time; and I was forced to be at the Secretary’s office till four, and lose my dinner; so I went to Mrs. Van’s, and made them get me three herrings, which I am very fond of, and they are a light victuals:  besides, I was to have supped at Lady Ashburnham’s; but the drab did not call for us in her coach, as she promised, but sent for us, and so I sent my excuses.  It has been a terrible rainy day, but so flattering in the morning, that I would needs go out in my new hat.  I met Leigh and Sterne as I was going into the Park.  Leigh says he will go to Ireland in ten days, if he can get Sterne to go with him; so I will send him the things for MD, and I have desired him to inquire about the box.  I hate that Sterne for his carelessness about it; but it was my fault.

29.  I was all this terrible rainy day with my friend Lewis upon business of importance; and I dined with him, and came home about seven, and thought I would amuse myself a little, after the pains I had taken.  I saw a volume of Congreve’s plays in my room, that Patrick had taken to read; and I looked into it, and in mere loitering read in it till twelve, like an owl and a fool:  if ever I do so again; never saw the like.  Count Gallas,[7] the Emperor’s Envoy, you will hear, is in disgrace with us:  the Queen has ordered her Ministers to have no more commerce with him; the reason is, the fool writ a rude letter to Lord Dartmouth, Secretary of State, complaining of our proceedings about a peace; and he is always in close confidence with Lord Wharton and Sunderland, and others of the late Ministry.  I believe you begin to think there will be no peace; the Whigs here are sure it cannot be, and stocks are fallen again.  But I am confident there will, unless France plays us tricks; and you may venture a wager with any of your Whig acquaintance that we shall not have another campaign.  You will get more by it than by ombre, sirrah.—­I let slip telling you yesterday’s journal, which I thought to have done this morning, but blundered.  I dined yesterday at Harry Coote’s, with Lord Hatton,[8] Mr. Finch, a son of Lord Nottingham, and Sir Andrew Fountaine.  I left them soon, but hear they stayed till two in the morning, and were all drunk:  and so good-night for last night, and good-night for to-night.  You blundering goosecap, an’t you ashamed to blunder to young ladies?  I shall have a fire in three or four days now, oh ho.

30.  I was to-day in the City concerting some things with a printer, and am to be to-morrow all day busy with Mr. Secretary about the same.  I won’t tell you now; but the Ministers reckon it will do abundance of good, and open the eyes of the nation, who are half bewitched against a peace.  Few of this generation can remember anything but war and taxes, and they think it is as it should be; whereas ’tis certain we are the most undone people in Europe, as I am afraid I shall make appear beyond