wife brought to bed again; or how? has he finished his house; paid his debts; and put out the rest of the money to use?  I am glad to hear poor Joe is like to get his two hundred pounds.  I suppose Trim is now reduced to slavery again.  I am glad of it; the people were as great rascals as the gentlemen.  But I must go to bed, sirrahs:  the Secretary is still at Hampton Court with my papers, or is come only to-night.  They plague me with attending them.

8.  I was with the Secretary this morning, and we dined with Prior, and did business this afternoon till about eight; and I must alter and undo, and a clutter.  I am glad the Parliament is prorogued.  I stayed with Prior till eleven; the Secretary left us at eight.  Prior, I believe, will be one of those employed to make the peace, when a Congress is opened.  Lord Ashburnham told to-day at the Coffee-house that Lord Harley[7] was yesterday morning married to the Duke of Newcastle’s daughter, the great heiress, and it got about all the town.  But I saw Lord Harley yesterday at noon in his nightgown, and he dined in the City with Prior and others; so it is not true; but I hope it will be so; for I know it has been privately managing this long time:[8] the lady will not have half her father’s estate; for the Duke left Lord Pelham’s son his heir.[9] The widow Duchess will not stand to the will, and she is now at law with Pelham.  However, at worst, the girl will have about ten thousand pounds a year to support the honour; for Lord Treasurer will never save a groat for himself.  Lord Harley is a very valuable young gentleman; and they say the girl is handsome, and has good sense, but red hair.

9.  I designed a jaunt into the City to-day to be merry, but was disappointed; so one always is in this life; and I could not see Lord Dartmouth to-day, with whom I had some business.  Business and pleasure both disappointed.  You can go to your Dean, and for want of him, Goody Stoyte, or Walls, or Manley, and meet everywhere with cards and claret.  I dined privately with a friend on a herring and chicken, and half a flask of bad Florence.  I begin to have fires now, when the mornings are cold.  I have got some loose bricks at the back of my grate for good husbandry.  Fine weather.  Patrick tells me my caps are wearing out.  I know not how to get others.  I want a necessary woman strangely.  I am as helpless as an elephant.—­I had three packets from the Archbishop of Dublin, cost me four shillings, all about Higgins,[10] printed stuff, and two long letters.  His people forgot to enclose them to Lewis; and they were only directed to Doctor Swift, without naming London or anything else.  I wonder how they reached me, unless the postmaster directed them.  I have read all the trash, and am weary.