24.  To-day I dined six miles out of town at Will Pate’s, with Stratford, Frankland, and the Molesworths,[8] and came home at night, and was weary and lazy.  I can say no more now, but good-night.

25.  I was so lazy to-day that I dined at next door,[9] and have sat at home since six, writing to the Bishop of Clogher, Dean Sterne, and Mr. Manley:  the last, because I am in fear for him about his place, and have sent him my opinion, what I and his other friends here think he ought to do.  I hope he will take it well.  My advice was, to keep as much in favour as possible with Sir Thomas Frankland, his master here.

26.  Smoke how I widen the margin by lying in bed when I write.  My bed lies on the wrong side for me, so that I am forced often to write when I am up.  Manley, you must know, has had people putting in for his place already; and has been complained of for opening letters.  Remember that last Sunday, September 24, 1710, was as hot as midsummer.  This was written in the morning; it is now night, and Presto in bed.  Here’s a clutter, I have gotten MD’s second letter, and I must answer it here.  I gave the bill to Tooke, and so—­ Well, I dined to-day with Sir John Holland the Comptroller, and sat with him till eight; then came home, and sent my letters, and writ part of a lampoon,[10] which goes on very slow:  and now I am writing to saucy MD; no wonder, indeed, good boys must write to naughty girls.  I have not seen your mother yet; my penny-post letter, I suppose, miscarried:  I will write another.  Mr. S——­ came to see me; and said M——­ was going to the country next morning with her husband (who I find is a surly brute); so I could only desire my service to her.

27.  To-day all our company dined at Will Frankland’s, with Steele and Addison too.  This is the first rainy day since I came to town; I cannot afford to answer your letter yet.  Morgan,[11] the puppy, writ me a long letter, to desire I would recommend him for purse-bearer or secretary to the next Lord Chancellor that would come with the next Governor.  I will not answer him; but beg you will say these words to his father Raymond,[12] or anybody that will tell him:  That Dr. Swift has received his letter; and would be very ready to serve him, but cannot do it in what he desires, because he has no sort of interest in the persons to be applied to.  These words you may write, and let Joe, or Mr. Warburton,[13] give them to him:  a pox on him!  However, it is by these sort of ways that fools get preferment.  I must not end yet, because I cannot say good-night without losing a line, and then MD would scold; but now, good-night.