22.  I dined to-day at Hampstead with Lady Lucy, etc., and when I got home found a letter from Joe, with one enclosed to Lord Wharton, which I will send to his Excellency, and second it as well as I can; but to talk of getting the Queen’s order is a jest.  Things are in such a combustion here, that I am advised not to meddle yet in the affair I am upon, which concerns the clergy of a whole kingdom; and does he think anybody will trouble the Queen about Joe?  We shall, I hope, get a recommendation from the Lord Lieutenant to the trustees for the linen business, and I hope that will do; and so I will write to him in a few days, and he must have patience.  This is an answer to part of your letter as well as his.  I lied; it is to-morrow I go to the country, and I won’t answer a bit more of your letter yet.

23.  Here is such a stir and bustle with this little MD of ours; I must be writing every night; I can’t go to bed without a word to them; I can’t put out my candle till I have bid them good-night:  O Lord, O Lord!  Well, I dined the first time to-day, with Will Frankland and his fortune:  she is not very handsome.  Did I not say I would go out of town to-day?  I hate lying abroad and clutter; I go tomorrow in Frankland’s chariot, and come back at night.  Lady Berkeley has invited me to Berkeley Castle, and Lady Betty Germaine[3] to Drayton in Northamptonshire; and I’ll go to neither.  Let me alone, I must finish my pamphlet.  I have sent a long letter to Bickerstaff:[4] let the Bishop of Clogher smoke[5] it if he can.  Well, I’ll write to the Bishop of Killala; but you might have told him how sudden and unexpected my journey was though.  Deuce take Lady S—–­; and if I know D—–­y, he is a rawboned-faced fellow, not handsome, nor visibly so young as you say:  she sacrifices two thousand pounds a year, and keeps only six hundred.  Well, you have had all my land journey in my second letter, and so much for that.  So, you have got into Presto’s lodgings; very fine, truly!  We have had a fortnight of the most glorious weather on earth, and still continues:  I hope you have made the best of it.  Ballygall[6] will be a pure[7] good place for air, if Mrs. Ashe makes good her promise.  Stella writes like an emperor:  I am afraid it hurts your eyes; take care of that pray, pray, Mrs. Stella.  Can’t you do what you will with your own horse?  Pray don’t let that puppy Parvisol sell him.  Patrick is drunk about three times a week, and I bear it, and he has got the better of me; but one of these days I will positively turn him off to the wide world, when none of you are by to intercede for him.—­Stuff—­how can I get her husband into the Charter-house? get a ——­ into the Charter-house.—­Write constantly!  Why, sirrah, don’t I write every day, and sometimes twice a day to MD?  Now I have answered all your letter, and the rest must be as it can be:  send me my bill.  Tell Mrs. Brent what I say of the Charter-house.  I think this enough for one night; and so farewell till this time to-morrow.