3.  Lord Dupplin and I went with Lord and Lady Orkney this morning at ten to Wimbledon, six miles off, to see Lord and Lady Caermarthen.  It is much the finest place about this town.  Did oo never see it?  I was once there before, about five years ago.  You know Lady Caermarthen is Lord Treasurer’s daughter, married about three weeks ago.  I hope the young fellow will be a good husband.—­I must send this away now.  I came back just by nightfall, cruel cold weather; I have no smell yet, but my cold something better.  Nite (?) sollahs; I’ll take my reeve.  I forget how MD’s accounts are.  Pray let me know always timely before MD wants; and pray give the bill on t’other side to Mrs. Brent as usual.  I believe I have not paid her this great while.  Go, play cards, and. . . rove Pdfr.  Nite richar MD. . . roves Pdfr.  FW lele. . . MD MD MD MD MD FW FW FW FW MD MD Lele. . .[31]

The six odd shillings, tell Mrs. Brent, are for her new year’s gift.

I[32] am just now told that poor dear Lady Ashburnham,[33] the Duke of Ormond’s daughter, died yesterday at her country house.  The poor creature was with child.  She was my greatest favourite, and I am in excessive concern for her loss.  I hardly knew a more valuable person on all accounts.  You must have heard me talk of her.  I am afraid to see the Duke and Duchess.  She was naturally very healthy; I am afraid she has been thrown away for want of care.  Pray condole with me.  ’Tis extremely moving.  Her lord’s a puppy; and I shall never think it worth my while to be troubled with him, now he has lost all that was valuable in his possession; yet I think he used her pretty well.  I hate life when I think it exposed to such accidents; and to see so many thousand wretches burdening the earth, while such as her die, makes me think God did never intend life for a blessing.  Farewell.

LETTER 58.[1]

London, Jan. 4, 1712-13.

I ended my last with the melancholy news of poor Lady Ashburnham’s death.  The Bishop of Clogher and Dr. Pratt made me dine with them to-day at Lord Mountjoy’s, pursuant to an engagement, which I had forgot.  Lady Mountjoy told me that Maccartney was got safe out of our clutches, for she had spoke with one who had a letter from him from Holland.  Others say the same thing.  ’Tis hard such a dog should escape.—­As I left Lord Mountjoy’s I saw the Duke d’Aumont, the French Ambassador, going from Lord Bolingbroke’s, where he dined, to have a private audience of the Queen.  I followed, and went up to Court, where there was a great crowd.  I was talking with the Duke of Argyle by the fireside in the bed-chamber, when the Ambassador came out from the Queen.  Argyle presented me to him, and Lord Bolingbroke and we talked together a while.  He is a fine gentleman, something like the Duke of Ormond, and just such an expensive man.  After church to-day I showed the Bishop of Clogher, at Court, who was who.  Nite my two dee logues, and. . .[2]