“Walk fast in snow,
      In frost walk slow;
      And still as you go,
      Tread on your toe. 
   When frost and snow are both together,
   Sit by the fire, and spare shoe-leather.”

I dined to-day with Dr. Cockburn,[10] but will not do so again in haste, he has generally such a parcel of Scots with him.

22.  Morning.  Starving, starving, uth, uth, uth, uth, uth.—­Don’t you remember I used to come into your chamber, and turn Stella out of her chair, and rake up the fire in a cold morning, and cry Uth, uth, uth? etc.  O, faith, I must rise, my hand is so cold I can write no more.  So good-morrow, sirrahs.—­At night.  I went this morning to Lady Giffard’s house, and saw your mother, and made her give me a pint bottle of palsy-water,[11] which I brought home in my pocket; and sealed and tied up in a paper, and sent it to Mr. Smyth, who goes to-morrow for Ireland, and sent a letter to him to desire his care of it, and that he would inquire at Chester about the box.  He was not within:  so the bottle and letter were left for him at his lodgings, with strict orders to give them to him; and I will send Patrick in a day or two, to know whether it was given, etc.  Dr. Stratford[12] and I dined to-day with Mr. Stratford[13] in the City, by appointment; but I chose to walk there, for exercise in the frost.  But the weather had given a little, as you women call it, so it was something slobbery.  I did not get home till nine.

     And now I’m in bed,
     To break your head.

23.  Morning.  They tell me it freezes again, but it is not so cold as yesterday:  so now I will answer a bit of your letter.—­At night.  O, faith, I was just going to answer some of our MD’s letter this morning, when a printer came in about some business, and stayed an hour; so I rose, and then came in Ben Tooke, and then I shaved and scribbled; and it was such a terrible day, I could not stir out till one, and then I called at Mrs. Barton’s, and we went to Lady Worsley’s, where we were to dine by appointment.  The Earl of Berkeley[14] is going to be married to Lady Louisa Lennox, the Duke of Richmond’s daughter.  I writ this night to Dean Sterne, and bid him tell you all about the bottle of palsy-water by Smyth; and to-morrow morning I will say something to your letter.

24.  Morning.  Come now to your letter.  As for your being even with me, I have spoken to that already.  So now, my dearly beloved, let us proceed to the next.  You are always grumbling that you han’t letters fast enough; “surely we shall have your tenth;” and yet, before you end your letter, you own you have my eleventh.—­And why did not MD go into the country with the Bishop of Clogher? faith, such a journey would have done you good; Stella should have rode, and Dingley gone in the coach.  The Bishop of Kilmore[15] I know nothing of; he is old, and may die; he lives in some obscure corner, for I never heard of him.  As