nor went without pain, and the most pain I ever bore in my life.  Medemeris[2] is retired in the country, with the beast her husband, long ago.  I thank the Bishop of Clogher for his proxy; I will write to him soon.  Here is Dilly’s wife in town; but I have not seen her yet.  No, sinkerton:[3] ’tis not a sign of health, but a sign that, if it had not come out, some terrible fit of sickness would have followed.  I was at our Society last Thursday, to receive a new member, the Chancellor of the Exchequer;[4] but I drink nothing above wine and water.  We shall have a peace, I hope, soon, or at least entirely broke; but I believe the first.  My Letter to Lord Treasurer, about the English tongue,[5] is now printing; and I suffer my name to be put at the end of it, which I never did before in my life.  The Appendix to the Third Part of John Bull[6] was published yesterday; it is equal to the rest.  I hope you read John Bull.  It was a Scotch gentleman,[7] a friend of mine, that writ it; but they put it upon me.  The Parliament will hardly be up till June.  We were like to be undone some days ago with a tack; but we carried it bravely, and the Whigs came in to help us.  Poor Lady Masham, I am afraid, will lose her only son, about a twelvemonth old, with the king’s evil.  I never would let Mrs. Fenton see me during my illness, though she often came; but she has been once here since I recovered.  Bernage has been twice to see me of late.  His regiment will be broke, and he only upon half-pay; so perhaps he thinks he will want me again.  I am told here the Bishop of Clogher and family are coming over, but he says nothing of it himself.  I have been returning the visits of those that sent howdees[8] in my sickness; particularly the Duchess of Hamilton, who came and sat with me two hours.  I make bargains with all people that I dine with, to let me scrub my back against a chair; and the Duchess of Ormond[9] was forced to bear it the other day.  Many of my friends are gone to Kensington, where the Queen has been removed for some time.  This is a long letter for a kick[10] body.  I will begin the next in the journal way, though my journals will be sorry ones.  My left hand is very weak, and trembles; but my right side has not been touched.

     This is a pitiful letter
     For want of a better;
     But plagued with a tetter,
     My fancy does fetter.

Ah! my poor willows and quicksets!  Well, but you must read John Bull.  Do you understand it all?  Did I tell you that young Parson Gery[11] is going to be married, and asked my advice when it was too late to break off?  He tells me Elwick has purchased forty pounds a year in land adjoining to his living.  Ppt does not say one word of her own little health.  I am angry almost; but I won’t, ’cause see im a dood dallar in odle sings;[12] iss, and so im DD too.  God bless MD, and FW, and me, ay and Pdfr too.  Farewell, MD, MD, MD, FW, FW, FW.  Me, me Lele.  I can say lele it, ung oomens, iss I tan, well as oo.