23.  I know ’tis neither wit nor diversion to tell you every day where I dine; neither do I write it to fill my letter; but I fancy I shall, some time or other, have the curiosity of seeing some particulars how I passed my life when I was absent from MD this time; and so I tell you now that I dined to-day at Molesworth’s, the Florence Envoy, then went to the Coffee-house, where I behaved myself coldly enough to Mr. Addison, and so came home to scribble.  We dine together to-morrow and next day by invitation; but I shall alter my behaviour to him, till he begs my pardon, or else we shall grow bare acquaintance.  I am weary of friends; and friendships are all monsters, but MD’s.

24.  I forgot to tell you, that last night I went to Mr. Harley’s, hoping—­ faith, I am blundering, for it was this very night at six; and I hoped he would have told me all things were done and granted:  but he was abroad, and came home ill, and was gone to bed, much out of order, unless the porter lied.  I dined to-day at Sir Matthew Dudley’s, with Mr. Addison, etc.

25.  I was to-day to see the Duke of Ormond; and, coming out, met Lord Berkeley of Stratton,[9] who told me that Mrs. Temple,[10] the widow, died last Saturday, which, I suppose, is much to the outward grief and inward joy of the family.  I dined to-day with Addison and Steele, and a sister of Mr. Addison, who is married to one Mons. Sartre,[11] a Frenchman, prebendary of Westminster, who has a delicious house and garden; yet I thought it was a sort of monastic life in those cloisters, and I liked Laracor better.  Addison’s sister is a sort of a wit, very like him.  I am not fond of her, etc.

26.  I was to-day to see Mr. Congreve,[12] who is almost blind with cataracts growing on his eyes; and his case is, that he must wait two or three years, until the cataracts are riper, and till he is quite blind, and then he must have them couched; and, besides, he is never rid of the gout, yet he looks young and fresh, and is as cheerful as ever.  He is younger by three years or more than I; and I am twenty years younger than he.  He gave me a pain in the great toe, by mentioning the gout.  I find such suspicions frequently, but they go off again.  I had a second letter from Mr. Morgan,[13] for which I thank you:  I wish you were whipped, for forgetting to send him that answer I desired you in one of my former, that I could do nothing for him of what he desired, having no credit at all, etc.  Go, be far enough, you negligent baggages.  I have had also a letter from Parvisol, with an account how my livings are set; and that they are fallen, since last year, sixty pounds.  A comfortable piece of news!  He tells me plainly that he finds you have no mind to part with the horse, because you sent for him at the same time you sent him my letter; so that I know not what must be done.  It is a sad thing that Stella must have her own horse, whether Parvisol will or no.