not answered her letter.  She is retired[9] to Mrs. Povey’s.  Is my aunt alive yet? and do you ever see her?  I suppose she has forgot the loss of her son.  Is Raymond’s new house quite finished? and does he squander as he used to do?  Has he yet spent all his wife’s fortune?  I hear there are five or six people putting strongly in for my livings; God help them!  But if ever the Court should give me anything, I would recommend Raymond to the Duke of Ormond; not for any particular friendship to him, but because it would be proper for the minister of Trim to have Laracor.  You may keep the gold-studded snuff-box now; for my brother Hill, Governor of Dunkirk, has sent me the finest that ever you saw.[10] It is allowed at Court that none in England comes near it, though it did not cost above twenty pounds.  And the Duchess of Hamilton has made me pockets for [it] like a woman’s, with a belt and buckle (for, you know, I wear no waistcoat in summer), and there are several divisions, and one on purpose for my box, oh ho!—­We have had most delightful weather this whole week; but illness and vomiting have hindered me from sharing in a great part of it.  Lady Masham made the Queen send to Kensington for some of her preserved ginger for me, which I take in the morning, and hope it will do me good.  Mrs. Brent[11] sent me a letter by a young fellow, a printer, desiring I would recommend him here, which you may tell her I have done:  but I cannot promise what will come of it, for it is necessary they should be made free here[12] before they can be employed.  I remember I put the boy prentice to Brent.  I hope Parvisol has set my tithes well this year:  he has writ nothing to me about it; pray talk to him of it when you see him, and let him give me an account how things are.  I suppose the corn is now off the ground.  I hope he has sold that great ugly horse.  Why don’t you sell to him?  He keeps me at charges for horses that I never ride:  yours is lame, and will never be good for anything.  The Queen will stay here about a month longer, I suppose; but Lady Masham will go in ten days to lie in at Kensington.  Poor creature, she fell down in the court here t’other day.  She would needs walk across it upon some displeasure with her chairmen, and was likely to be spoiled so near her time; but we hope all is over for a black eye and a sore side:  though I shall not be at ease till she is brought to bed.  I find I can fill up a letter, some way or other, without a journal.  If I had not a spirit naturally cheerful, I should be very much discontented at a thousand things.  Pray God preserve MD’s health, and Pdfr’s, and that I may live far from the envy and discontent that attends those who are thought to have more favour at Courts than they really possess.  Love Pdfr, who loves MD above all things.  Farewell, deelest, ten thousand times deelest, MD MD MD, FW FW, me me me me.  Lele, Lele, Lele, Lele.

LETTER 53.[1]