that we were at Laracor this fine day! the willows begin to peep, and the quicks to bud.  My dream is out:  I was a-dreamed last night that I ate ripe cherries.—­And now they begin to catch the pikes, and will shortly the trouts (pox on these Ministers!)—­and I would fain know whether the floods were ever so high as to get over the holly bank or the river walk; if so, then all my pikes are gone; but I hope not.  Why don’t you ask Parvisol these things, sirrahs?  And then my canal, and trouts, and whether the bottom be fine and clear?  But harkee, ought not Parvisol to pay in my last year’s rents and arrears out of his hands?  I am thinking, if either of you have heads to take his accounts, it should be paid in to you; otherwise to Mr. Walls.  I will write an order on t’other side; and do as you will.  Here’s a world of business; but I must go sleep, I’m drowsy; and so goodnight, etc.

20.  This sore shin ruins me in coach-hire; no less than two shillings to-day going and coming from the City, where I dined with one you never heard of, and passed an insipid day.  I writ this post to Bernage, with the account I told you above.  I hope he will like it; ’tis his own fault, or it would have been better.  I reckon your next letter will be full of Mr. Harley’s stabbing.  He still mends, but abundance of extravasated blood has come out of the wound:  he keeps his bed, and sees nobody.  The Speaker’s eldest son[12] is just dead of the smallpox, and the House is adjourned a week, to give him time to wipe off his tears.  I think it very handsomely done; but I believe one reason is, that they want Mr. Harley so much.  Biddy Floyd is like to do well:  and so go to your Dean’s, and roast his oranges, and lose your money, do so, you saucy sluts.  Stella, you lost three shillings and fourpence t’other night at Stoyte’s, yes, you did, and Presto stood in a corner, and saw you all the while, and then stole away.  I dream very often I am in Ireland, and that I have left my clothes and things behind me, and have not taken leave of anybody; and that the Ministry expect me tomorrow, and such nonsense.

21.  I would not for a guinea have a letter from you till this goes; and go it shall on Saturday, faith.  I dined with Mrs. Vanhomrigh, to save my shin, and then went on some business to the Secretary, and he was not at home.

22.  Yesterday was a short day’s journal:  but what care I? what cares saucy Presto?  Darteneuf[13] invited me to dinner to-day.  Do not you know Darteneuf?  That’s the man that knows everything, and that everybody knows; and that knows where a knot of rabble are going on a holiday, and when they were there last:  and then I went to the Coffee-house.  My shin mends, but is not quite healed:  I ought to keep it up, but I don’t; I e’en let it go as it comes.  Pox take Parvisol and his watch!  If I do not receive the ten-pound bill I am to get towards it, I will neither receive watch nor chain; so let Parvisol know.