My hearty service to Goody Stoyte and Catherine; and I hope Mrs. Walls had a good time.  How inconstant I am!  I can’t imagine I was ever in love with her.  Well, I’m going; what have you to say?  I do not care how I write now.[27] I don’t design to write on this side; these few lines are but so much more than your due; so I will write large or small as I please.  O, faith, my hands are starving in bed; I believe it is a hard frost.  I must rise, and bid you good-bye, for I’ll seal this letter immediately, and carry it in my pocket, and put it into the post-office with my own fair hands.  Farewell.

This letter is just a fortnight’s journal to-day.  Yes, and so it is, I’m sure, says you, with your two eggs a penny.

Lele, lele, lele.[28]

O Lord, I am saying lele, lele, to myself, in all our little keys:  and, now you talk of keys, that dog Patrick broke the key-general of the chest of drawers with six locks, and I have been so plagued to get a new one, besides my good two shillings!

LETTER 17.

London, Feb. 24, 1710-11.

Now, young women, I gave in my sixteenth this evening.  I dined with Ford (it was his Opera-day) as usual; it is very convenient to me to do so, for coming home early after a walk in the Park, which now the days will allow.  I called on the Secretary at his office, and he had forgot to give the memorial about Bernage to the Duke of Argyle; but, two days ago, I met the Duke, who desired I would give it him myself, which should have more power with him than all the Ministry together, as he protested solemnly, repeated it two or three times, and bid me count upon it.  So that I verily believe Bernage will be in a very good way to establish himself.  I think I can do no more for him at present, and there’s an end of that; and so get you gone to bed, for it is late.

25.  The three weeks are out yesterday since I had your last, and so now I will be expecting every day a pretty dear letter from my own MD, and hope to hear that Stella has been much better in her head and eyes:  my head continues as it was, no fits, but a little disorder every day, which I can easily bear, if it will not grow worse.  I dined to-day with Mr. Secretary St. John, on condition I might choose my company, which were Lord Rivers, Lord Carteret, Sir Thomas Mansel,[1] and Mr. Lewis; I invited Masham, Hill, Sir John Stanley, and George Granville, but they were engaged; and I did it in revenge of his having such bad company when I dined with him before; so we laughed, etc.  And I ventured to go to church to-day, which I have not done this month before.  Can you send me such a good account of Stella’s health, pray now?  Yes, I hope, and better too.  We dined (says you) at the Dean’s, and played at cards till twelve, and there came in Mr. French, and Dr. Travors, and Dr. Whittingham, and Mr. (I forget his name, that I always tell Mrs. Walls of) the banker’s son, a pox on him.  And we were so merry; I vow they are pure good company.  But I lost a crown; for you must know I had always hands tempting me to go out, but never took in anything, and often two black aces without a manilio; was not that hard, Presto?  Hold your tongue, etc.