she told me she hoped to be easy by Christmas; and she kept her word, although she meant it otherwise.  She had all sorts of amiable qualities, and no ill ones, but the indiscretion of too much neglecting her own affairs.  She had two thousand pounds left her by an old grandmother,[10] with which she intended to pay her debts, and live on an annuity she had of one hundred pounds a year, and Newburg House, which would be about sixty pounds more.  That odious grandmother living so long, forced her to retire; for the two thousand pounds was settled on her after the old woman’s death, yet her brute of a brother, Sir James Long,[11] would not advance it for her; else she might have paid her debts, and continued here, and lived still:  I believe melancholy helped her on to her grave.  I have ordered a paragraph to be put in the Postboy,[12] giving an account of her death, and making honourable mention of her; which is all I can do to serve her memory:  but one reason was spite; for her brother would fain have her death a secret, to save the charge of bringing her up here to bury her, or going into mourning.  Pardon all this, for the sake of a poor creature I had so much friendship for.

26.  I went to Mr. Secretary this morning, and he would have me dine with him.  I called at noon at Mrs. Masham’s, who desired me not to let the Prophecy be published, for fear of angering the Queen about the Duchess of Somerset; so I writ to the printer to stop them.  They have been printed and given about, but not sold.  I saw Lord Treasurer there, who had been two hours with the Queen; and Mrs. Masham is in hopes things will do well again.  I went at night again, and supped at Mr. Masham’s, and Lord Treasurer sat with us till one o’clock.  So ’tis late, etc.

27.  I entertained our Society at the Thatched House Tavern to-day at dinner; but brother Bathurst sent for wine, the house affording none.  The printer had not received my letter, and so he brought up dozens apiece of the Prophecy; but I ordered him to part with no more.  ’Tis an admirable good one, and people are mad for it.  The frost still continues violently cold.  Mrs. Masham invited me to come to-night and play at cards; but our Society did not part till nine.  But I supped with Mrs. Hill, her sister, and there was Mrs. Masham and Lord Treasurer, and we stayed till twelve.  He is endeavouring to get a majority against next Wednesday, when the House of Lords is to meet, and the Whigs intend to make some violent addresses against a peace, if not prevented.  God knows what will become of us.—­It is still prodigiously cold; but so I told you already.  We have eggs on the spit, I wish they may not be addled.  When I came home tonight I found, forsooth, a letter from MD, N.24, 24, 24, 24; there, do you know the numbers now? and at the same time one from Joe,[13] full of thanks:  let him know I have received it, and am glad of his success, but won’t put him to the charge of