about ten days ago.  You are mistaken in your guesses about Tatlers:  I did neither write that on Noses nor Religion,[17] nor do I send him of late any hints at all.—­Indeed, Stella, when I read your letter, I was not uneasy at all; but when I came to answer the particulars, and found that you had not received your box, it grated me to the heart, because I thought, through your little words, that you imagined I had not taken the care I ought.  But there has been some blunder in this matter, which I will know to-morrow, and write to Sterne, for fear he should not be within.—­And pray, pray, Presto, pray now do.—­No, Raymond was not above four times with me while he stayed, and then only while I was dressing.  Mrs. Fenton has written me another letter about some money of hers in Lady Giffard’s hands, that is entrusted to me by my mother, not to come to her husband.  I send my letters constantly every fortnight, and, if you will have them oftener, you may, but then they will be the shorter.  Pray, let Parvisol sell the horse.  I think I spoke to you of it in a former letter:  I am glad you are rid of him, and was in pain while I thought you rode him; but, if he would buy you another, or anybody else, and that you could be often able to ride, why do not you do it?

2.  I went this morning early to the Secretary of State, Mr. St. John; and he told me from Mr. Harley that the warrant was now drawn, in order for a patent for the First-Fruits:  it must pass through several offices, and take up some time, because in things the Queen gives they are always considerate; but that, he assures me, ’tis granted and done, and past all dispute, and desires I will not be in any pain at all.  I will write again to the Archbishop to-morrow, and tell him this, and I desire you will say it on occasion.  From the Secretary I went to Mr. Sterne, who said he would write to you to-night; and that the box must be at Chester; and that some friend of his goes very soon, and will carry it over.  I dined with Mr. Secretary St. John, and at six went to Darteneufs house to drink punch with him, and Mr. Addison, and little Harrison,[18] a young poet, whose fortune I am making.  Steele was to have been there, but came not, nor never did twice, since I knew him, to any appointment.  I stayed till past eleven, and am now in bed.  Steele’s last Tatler came out to-day.  You will see it before this comes to you, and how he takes leave of the world.  He never told so much as Mr. Addison of it, who was surprised as much as I; but, to say the truth, it was time, for he grew cruel dull and dry.  To my knowledge he had several good hints to go upon; but he was so lazy and weary of the work that he would not improve them.  I think I will send this after[19] to-morrow:  shall I before ’tis full, Dingley?