he knows the meaning.  Tell him I will not trust him, but that you can order it to be paid me here; and I will trust you till I see you.  Have I told you that the rogue Patrick has left me these two months, to my great satisfaction?  I have got another, who seems to be much better, if he continues it.  I am printing a threepenny pamphlet,[11] and shall print another in a fortnight, and then I have done, unless some new occasion starts.  Is my curate Warburton married to Mrs. Melthrop in my parish? so I hear.  Or is it a lie?  Has Raymond got to his new house?  Do you see Joe now and then?  What luck have you at ombre?  How stands it with the Dean? . . .[12] My service to Mrs. Stoyte, and Catherine, if she be come from Wales.  I have not yet seen Dilly Ashe’s wife.  I called once, but she was not at home:  I think she is under the doctor’s hand. . . .[13] I believe the news of the Duke of Ormond producing letters in the council of war, with orders not to fight, will surprise you in Ireland.  Lord Treasurer said in the House of Lords that in a few days the treaty of peace should be laid before them; and our Court thought it wrong to hazard a battle, and sacrifice many lives in such a juncture.  If the peace holds, all will do well, otherwise I know not how we shall weather it.  And it was reckoned as a wrong step in politics for Lord Treasurer to open himself so much.  The Secretary would not go so far to satisfy the Whigs in the House of Commons; but there all went swimmingly.  I’ll say no more to oo to-nite, sellohs, because I must send away the letter, not by the bell,[14] but early:  and besides, I have not much more to say at zis plesent liting.[15] Does MD never read at all now, pee?[16] But oo walk plodigiousry, I suppose; oo make nothing of walking to, to, to, ay, to Donnybrook.  I walk too as much as I can, because sweating is good; but I’ll walk more if I go to Kensington.  I suppose I shall have no apples this year neither, for I dined t’other day with Lord Rivers, who is sick at his country-house, and he showed me all his cherries blasted.  Nite deelest sollahs; farewell deelest rives; rove poo poo Pdfr.  Farewell deelest richar MD, MD, MD, FW, FW, FW, FW, FW, me, me, Lele, me, Lele, Lele, richar MD.

LETTER 48.[1]

Kensington, June 17, 1712.

I have been so tosticated about since my last, that I could not go on in my journal manner, though my shoulder is a great deal better; however, I feel constant pain in it, but I think it diminishes, and I have cut off some slices from my flannel.  I have lodged here near a fortnight, partly for the air and exercise, partly to be near the Court, where dinners are to be found.  I generally get a lift in a coach to town, and in the evening I walk back.  On Saturday I dined with the Duchess of Ormond at her lodge near Sheen, and thought to get a boat back as usual.