18.  Morn.  I am so very seepy in the morning that my man wakens me above ten times; and now I can tell oo no news of this day. (Here is a restless dog, crying cabbages and savoys, plagues me every morning about this time; he is now at it.  I wish his largest cabbage were sticking in his throat.) I lodge over against the house in Little Rider Street, where DD lodged.  Don’t oo lememble, maram?  To-night I must see the Abbe Gaultier,[15] to get some particulars for my History.  It was he who was first employed by France in the overtures of peace, and I have not had time this month to see him; he is but a puppy too.  Lady Orkney has just sent to invite me to dinner; she has not given me the bed-nightgown;[16] besides, I am come very much off from writing in bed, though I am doing it this minute; but I stay till my fire is burnt up.  My grate is very large; two bushels of coals in a week:  but I save it in lodgings.  Lord Abercorn is come to London, and will plague me, and I can do him no service.  The Duke of Shrewsbury goes in a day or two for France, perhaps to-day.  We shall have a peace very soon; the Dutch are almost entirely agreed, and if they stop we shall make it without them; that has been long resolved.  One Squire Jones,[17] a scoundrel in my parish, has writ to me to desire I would engage Joe Beaumont to give him his interest for Parliament-man for Trim:  pray tell Joe this; and if he designed to vote for him already, then he may tell Jones that I received his letter, and that I writ to Joe to do it.  If Joe be engaged for any other, then he may do what he will:  and Parvisol may say he spoke to Joe, but Joe’s engaged, etc.  I received three pair of fine thread stockings from Joe lately.  Pray thank him when you see him, and that I say they are very fine and good. (I never looked at them yet, but that’s no matter.) This is a fine day.  I am ruined with coaches and chairs this twelvepenny weather.  I must see my brother Ormond at eleven, and then the Duchess of Hamilton, with whom I doubt I am in disgrace, not having seen her these ten days.  I send this to-day, and must finish it now; and perhaps some people may come and hinder me; for it im ten o’clock (but not shaving-day), and I must be abroad at eleven.  Abbe Gaultier sends me word I can’t see him to-night; pots cake him!  I don’t value anything but one letter he has of Petecum’s,[18] showing the roguery of the Dutch.  Did not the Conduct of the Allies make you great politicians?  Fais, I believe you are not quite so ignorant as I thought you.  I am glad to hear oo walked so much in the country.  Does DD ever read to you, ung ooman?  O, fais!  I shall find strange doings hen I tum ole![19] Here is somebody coming that I must see that wants a little place; the son of cousin Rooke’s eldest daughter, that died many years ago.  He’s here.  Farewell, deelest MD MD MD me me me FW FW FW, Lele.

LETTER 57.[1]