8.  Here’s ado and a clutter!  I must now answer MD’s fifth; but first you must know I dined at the Portugal Envoy’s[25] to-day, with Addison, Vanbrugh, Admiral Wager,[26] Sir Richard Temple,[27] Methuen,[28] etc.  I was weary of their company, and stole away at five, and came home like a good boy, and studied till ten, and had a fire, O ho! and now am in bed.  I have no fireplace in my bed-chamber; but ’tis very warm weather when one’s in bed.  Your fine cap,[29] Madam Dingley, is too little, and too hot:  I will have that fur taken off; I wish it were far enough; and my old velvet cap is good for nothing.  Is it velvet under the fur?  I was feeling, but cannot find:  if it be, ’twill do without it else I will face it; but then I must buy new velvet:  but may be I may beg a piece.  What shall I do?  Well, now to rogue MD’s letter.  God be thanked for Stella’s eyes mending; and God send it holds; but faith you writ too much at a time:  better write less, or write it at ten times.  Yes, faith, a long letter in a morning from a dear friend is a dear thing.  I smoke a compliment, little mischievous girls, I do so.  But who are those Wiggs that think I am turned Tory?  Do you mean Whigs?  Which Wiggs and WAT do you mean?  I know nothing of Raymond, and only had one letter from him a little after I came here.[Pray remember Morgan.) Raymond is indeed like to have much influence over me in London, and to share much of my conversation.  I shall, no doubt, introduce him to Harley, and Lord Keeper, and the Secretary of State.  The Tatler upon Ithuriel’s spear[30] is not mine, madam.  What a puzzle there is betwixt you and your judgment!  In general you may be sometimes sure of things, as that about style,[31] because it is what I have frequently spoken of; but guessing is mine a——­, and I defy mankind, if I please.  Why, I writ a pamphlet when I was last in London, that you and a thousand have seen, and never guessed it to be mine.  Could you have guessed the “Shower in Town” to be mine?  How chance you did not see that before your last letter went? but I suppose you in Ireland did not think it worth mentioning.  Nor am I suspected for the lampoon; only Harley said he smoked me; (have I told you so before?) and some others knew it.  ’Tis called “The Rod of Sid Hamet.”  And I have written several other things that I hear commended, and nobody suspects me for them; nor you shall not know till I see you again.  What do you mean, “That boards near me, that I dine with now and then?” I know no such person:  I do not dine with boarders.  What the pox!  You know whom I have dined with every day since I left you, better than I do.  What do you mean, sirrah?  Slids, my ailment has been over these two months almost.  Impudence, if you vex me, I will give ten shillings a week for my lodging; for I am almost st—­k out of this with the sink, and it helps me to verses in my “Shower."[32] Well, Madam Dingley, what say