printer in an unknown hand.  There was printed a Grub Street speech of Lord Nottingham;[2] and he was such an owl to complain of it in the House of Lords, who have taken up the printer for it.  I heard at Court that Walpole[3] (a great Whig member) said that I and my whimsical Club writ it at one of our meetings, and that I should pay for it.  He will find he lies:  and I shall let him know by a third hand my thoughts of him.  He is to be Secretary of State, if the Ministry changes; but he has lately had a bribe proved against him in Parliament, while he was Secretary at War.  He is one of the Whigs’ chief speakers.

19.  Sad dismal weather.  I went to the Secretary’s office, and Lewis made me dine with him.  I intended to have dined with Lord Treasurer.  I have not seen the Secretary this week.  Things do not mend at all.  Lord Dartmouth despairs, and is for giving up; Lewis is of the same mind; but Lord Treasurer only says, “Poh, poh, all will be well.”  I am come home early to finish something I am doing; but I find I want heart and humour, and would read any idle book that came in my way.  I have just sent away a penny paper to make a little mischief.  Patrick is gone to the burial of an Irish footman, who was Dr. King’s[4] servant; he died of a consumption, a fit death for a poor starving wit’s footman.  The Irish servants always club to bury a countryman.

20.  I was with the Secretary this morning, and, for aught I can see, we shall have a languishing death:  I can know nothing, nor themselves neither.  I dined, you know, with our Society, and that odious Secretary would make me President next week; so I must entertain them this day se’nnight at the Thatched House Tavern,[5] where we dined to-day:  it will cost me five or six pounds; yet the Secretary says he will give me wine.  I found a letter when I came home from the Bishop of Clogher.

21.  This is the first time I ever got a new cold before the old one was going:  it came yesterday, and appeared in all due forms, eyes and nose running, etc., and is now very bad; and I cannot tell how I got it.  Sir Andrew Fountaine and I were invited to dine with Mrs. Van.  I was this morning with the Duke of Ormond; and neither he nor I can think of anything to comfort us in present affairs.  We must certainly fall, if the Duchess of Somerset be not turned out; and nobody believes the Queen will ever part with her.  The Duke and I were settling when Mr. Secretary and I should dine with him, and he fixes upon Tuesday; and when I came away I remembered it was Christmas Day.  I was to see Lady ——­, who is just up after lying-in; and the ugliest sight I have seen, pale, dead, old and yellow, for want of her paint.  She has turned my stomach.  But she will soon be painted, and a beauty again.