3.  I ought to read these letters I write, after I have done; for, looking over thus much, I found two or three literal mistakes, which should not be when the hand is so bad.  But I hope it does not puzzle little Dingley to read, for I think I mend:  but methinks, when I write plain, I do not know how, but we are not alone, all the world can see us.  A bad scrawl is so snug, it looks like a PMD.[7] We have scurvy Tatlers of late:  so pray do not suspect me.  I have one or two hints I design to send him, and never any more:  he does not deserve it.  He is governed by his wife most abominably,[8] as bad as ——.  I never saw her since I came; nor has he ever made me an invitation:  either he dares not, or is such a thoughtless Tisdall[9] fellow, that he never minds[10] it.  So what care I for his wit? for he is the worst company in the world, till he has a bottle of wine in his head.  I cannot write straighter in bed, so you must be content.—­At night in bed.  Stay, let me see where’s this letter to MD among these papers?  Oh! here.  Well, I will go on now; but I am very busy (smoke the new pen.) I dined with Mr. Harley to-day, and am invited there again on Sunday.  I have now leave to write to the Primate and Archbishop of Dublin, that the Queen has granted the First-Fruits; but they are to take no notice of it, till a letter is sent them by the Queen’s orders from Lord Dartmouth, Secretary of State, to signify it.  The bishops are to be made a corporation, to dispose of the revenue, etc.; and I shall write to the Archbishop of Dublin to-morrow (I have had no giddiness to-day).  I know not whether they will have any occasion for me longer to be here; nor can I judge till I see what letter the Queen sends to the bishops, and what they will do upon it.  If despatch be used, it may be done in six weeks; but I cannot judge.  They sent me to-day a new Commission, signed by the Primate and Archbishop of Dublin,[11] and promise me letters to the two archbishops here; but mine a ——­ for it all.  The thing is done, and has been so these ten days; though I had only leave to tell it to-day.  I had this day likewise a letter from the Bishop of Clogher, who complains of my not writing; and, what vexes me, says he knows you have long letters from me every week.  Why do you tell him so?  ’Tis not right, faith:  but I won’t be angry with MD at distance.  I writ to him last post, before I had his; and will write again soon, since I see he expects it, and that Lord and Lady Mountjoy[12] put him off upon me, to give themselves ease.  Lastly, I had this day a letter from a certain naughty rogue called MD, and it was N. 5; which I shall not answer to-night, I thank you.  No, faith, I have other fish to fry; but to-morrow or next day will be time enough.  I have put MD’s commissions in a memorandum paper.  I think I have done all before, and remember nothing but this to-day about glasses and spectacles and spectacle cases.  I have no commission from Stella, but the chocolate and handkerchiefs; and those are bought, and I expect they will be soon sent.  I have been with, and sent to, Mr. Sterne, two or three times to know; but he was not within.  Odds my life, what am I doing?  I must go write and do business.