15.  Lord, what a long day’s writing was yesterday’s answer to your letter, sirrahs!  I dined to-day with Lewis and Ford, whom I have brought acquainted.  Lewis told me a pure thing.  I had been hankering with Mr. Harley to save Steele his other employment, and have a little mercy on him; and I had been saying the same thing to Lewis, who is Mr. Harley’s chief favourite.  Lewis tells Mr. Harley how kindly I should take it, if he would be reconciled to Steele, etc.  Mr. Harley, on my account, falls in with it, and appoints Steele a time to let him attend him, which Steele accepts with great submission, but never comes, nor sends any excuse.  Whether it was blundering, sullenness, insolence, or rancour of party, I cannot tell; but I shall trouble myself no more about him.  I believe Addison hindered him out of mere spite, being grated[41] to the soul to think he should ever want my help to save his friend; yet now he is soliciting me to make another of his friends Queen’s Secretary at Geneva; and I’ll do it if I can; it is poor Pastoral Philips.[42]

16.  O, why did you leave my picture behind you at t’other lodgings?  Forgot it?  Well; but pray remember it now, and don’t roll it up, d’ye hear; but hang it carefully in some part of your room, where chairs and candles and mop-sticks won’t spoil it, sirrahs.  No, truly, I will not be godfather to Goody Walls this bout, and I hope she will have no more.  There will be no quiet nor cards for this child.  I hope it will die the day after the christening.  Mr. Harley gave me a paper, with an account of the sentence you speak of against the lads that defaced the statue,[43] and that Ingoldsby[44] reprieved that part of it of standing before the statue.  I hope it was never executed.  We have got your Broderick out;[45] Doyne[46] is to succeed him, and Cox[47] Doyne.  And so there’s an end of your letter; ’tis all answered; and now I must go on upon my own stock.  Go on, did I say?  Why, I have written enough; but this is too soon to send it yet, young women; faith, I dare not use you to it, you’ll always expect it; what remains shall be only short journals of a day, and so I’ll rise for this morning.—­At night.  I dined with my opposite neighbour, Darteneuf; and I was soliciting this day to present the Bishop of Clogher Vice-Chancellor;[48] but it won’t do; they are all set against him, and the Duke of Ormond, they say, has resolved to dispose of it somewhere else.  Well; little saucy rogues, do not stay out too late to-night, because it is Saturday night, and young women should come home soon then.