“Once I guessed right,
      And I got credit by’t;
      Thrice I guessed wrong,
      And I kept my credit on.”

No, it is you are sorry, not I.

26.  By the Lord Harry, I shall be undone here with Christmas boxes.  The rogues of the Coffee-house have raised their tax, everyone giving a crown; and I gave mine for shame, besides a great many half-crowns to great men’s porters, etc.  I went to-day by water into the city, and dined with no less a man than the City Printer.[6] There is an intimacy between us, built upon reasons that you shall know when I see you; but the rain caught me within twelvepenny length of home.  I called at Mr. Harley’s, who was not within, dropped my half-crown with his porter, drove to the Coffee-house, where the rain kept me till nine.  I had letters to-day from the Archbishop of Dublin and Mr. Bernage;[7] the latter sends me a melancholy account of Lady Shelburne’s[8] death, and his own disappointments, and would gladly be a captain; if I can help him, I will.

27.  Morning.  I bespoke a lodging over the way for tomorrow, and the dog let it yesterday to another; I gave him no earnest, so it seems he could do it; Patrick would have had me give him earnest to bind him; but I would not.  So I must go saunter to-day for a lodging somewhere else.  Did you ever see so open a winter in England?  We have not had two frosty days; but it pays it off in rain:  we have not had three fair days these six weeks.  O, faith, I dreamt mightily of MD last night; but so confused, I cannot tell a word.  I have made Ford acquainted with Lewis; and to-day we dined together:  in the evening I called at one or two neighbours, hoping to spend a Christmas evening; but none were at home, they were all gone to be merry with others.  I have often observed this, that in merry times everybody is abroad; where the deuce are they?  So I went to the Coffee-house, and talked with Mr. Addison an hour, who at last remembered to give me two letters, which I cannot answer to-night, nor to-morrow neither, I can assure you, young women, count upon that.  I have other things to do than to answer naughty girls, an old saying and true,

     Letters from MD’s
     Must not be answered in ten days: 

it is but bad rhyme, etc.

28.  To-day I had a message from Sir Thomas Hanmer, to dine with him; the famous Dr. Smalridge[9] was of the company, and we sat till six; and I came home to my new lodgings in St. Albans Street,[10] where I pay the same rent (eight shillings a week) for an apartment two pair of stairs; but I have the use of the parlour to receive persons of quality, and I am got into my new bed, etc.