12.  I was to-day at the Secretary’s office with Lewis, and in came Lord Rivers;[9] who took Lewis out and whispered him; and then came up to me to desire my acquaintance, etc., so we bowed and complimented a while, and parted and I dined with Phil.  Savage[10] and his Irish Club, at their boarding-place; and, passing an evening scurvily enough, did not come home till eight.  Mr. Addison and I hardly meet once a fortnight; his Parliament and my different friendships keep us asunder.  Sir Matthew Dudley turned away his butler yesterday morning; and at night the poor fellow died suddenly in the streets:  was not it an odd event?  But what care you?  But then I knew the butler.—­ Why, it seems your packet-boat is not lost:  psha, how silly that is, when I had already gone through the forms, and said it was a sad thing, and that I was sorry for it!  But when must I answer this letter of our MD’s?  Here it is, it lies between this paper on t’other side of the leaf:  one of these odd-come-shortly’s I’ll consider, and so good-night.

13.  Morning.  I am to go trapesing with Lady Kerry[11] and Mrs. Pratt[12] to see sights all this day:  they engaged me yesterday morning at tea.  You hear the havoc making in the army:  Meredith, Maccartney, and Colonel Honeywood[13] are obliged to sell their commands at half-value, and leave the army, for drinking destruction to the present Ministry, and dressing up a hat on a stick, and calling it Harley; then drinking a glass with one hand, and discharging a pistol with the other at the maukin,[14] wishing it were Harley himself; and a hundred other such pretty tricks, as inflaming their soldiers, and foreign Ministers, against the late changes at Court.  Cadogan[15] has had a little paring:  his mother[16] told me yesterday he had lost the place of Envoy; but I hope they will go no further with him, for he was not at those mutinous meetings.—­Well, these saucy jades take up so much of my time with writing to them in a morning; but, faith, I am glad to see you whenever I can:  a little snap and away; and so hold your tongue, for I must rise:  not a word, for your life.  How nowww?  So, very well; stay till I come home, and then, perhaps, you may hear further from me.  And where will you go to-day, for I can’t be with you for these ladies?  It is a rainy, ugly day.  I’d have you send for Walls, and go to the Dean’s; but don’t play small games when you lose.  You’ll be ruined by Manilio, Basto, the queen, and two small trumps, in red.[17] I confess ’tis a good hand against the player:  but then there are Spadilio, Punto, the king, strong trumps, against you, which, with one trump more, are three tricks ten ace:  for, suppose you play your Manilio—­Oh, silly, how I prate, and can’t get away from this MD in a morning!  Go, get you gone, dear naughty girls, and let me rise.  There, Patrick locked up my ink again the third time last night:  the rogue gets the better of me; but I will rise in spite