are so often abroad; your mother thinks it is want of exercise hurts you, and so do I.  (She called here to-night, but I was not within, that’s by the bye.) Sure you do not deceive me, Stella, when you say you are in better health than you were these three weeks; for Dr. Raymond told me yesterday, that Smyth of the Blind Quay had been telling Mr. Leigh that he left you extremely ill; and in short, spoke so, that he almost put poor Leigh into tears, and would have made me run distracted; though your letter is dated the 11th instant, and I saw Smyth in the city above a fortnight ago, as I passed by in a coach.  Pray, pray, don’t write, Stella, until you are mighty, mighty, mighty, mighty well in your eyes, and are sure it won’t do you the least hurt.  Or come, I’ll tell you what; you, Mistress Stella, shall write your share at five or six sittings, one sitting a day; and then comes Dingley all together, and then Stella a little crumb towards the end, to let us see she remembers Presto; and then conclude with something handsome and genteel, as your most humblecumdumble, or, etc.  O Lord! does Patrick write word of my not coming till spring?  Insolent man! he know my secrets?  No; as my Lord Mayor said, No; if I thought my shirt knew, etc.  Faith, I will come as soon as it is any way proper for me to come; but, to say the truth, I am at present a little involved with the present Ministry in some certain things (which I tell you as a secret); and soon as ever I can clear my hands, I will stay no longer; for I hope the First-Fruit business will be soon over in all its forms.  But, to say the truth, the present Ministry have a difficult task, and want me, etc.  Perhaps they may be just as grateful as others:  but, according to the best judgment I have, they are pursuing the true interest of the public; and therefore I am glad to contribute what is in my power.  For God’s sake, not a word of this to any alive.—­Your Chancellor?[9] Why, madam, I can tell you he has been dead this fortnight.  Faith, I could hardly forbear our little language about a nasty dead Chancellor, as you may see by the blot.[10] Ploughing?  A pox plough them; they’ll plough me to nothing.  But have you got your money, both the ten pounds?  How durst he pay you the second so soon?  Pray be good huswifes.  Ay, well, and Joe, why, I had a letter lately from Joe, desiring I would take some care of their poor town,[11] who, he says, will lose their liberties.  To which I desired Dr. Raymond would return answer, that the town had behaved themselves so ill to me, so little regarded the advice I gave them, and disagreed so much among themselves, that I was resolved never to have more to do with them; but that whatever personal kindness I could do to Joe, should be done.  Pray, when you happen to see Joe, tell him this, lest Raymond should have blundered or forgotten—­Poor Mrs. Wesley!—­Why these poligyes[12] for being abroad?  Why should you be at home at all, until Stella is quite well?—­