5.  This morning Delaval came to see me, and we went together to Kneller’s,[26] who was not in town.  In the way we met the electors for Parliament-men:[27] and the rabble came about our coach, crying, “A Colt, a Stanhope,” etc.  We were afraid of a dead cat, or our glasses broken, and so were always of their side.  I dined again at Delaval’s; and in the evening, at the Coffee-house, heard Sir Andrew Fountaine[28] was come to town.  This has been but an insipid sort of day, and I have nothing to remark upon it worth threepence:  I hope MD had a better, with the Dean, the Bishop, or Mrs. Walls.[29] Why, the reason you lost four and eightpence last night but one at Manley’s was, because you played bad games:  I took notice of six that you had ten to one against you:  Would any but a mad lady go out twice upon Manilio; Basto, and two small diamonds?[30] Then in that game of spades, you blundered when you had ten-ace; I never saw the like of you:  and now you are in a huff because I tell you this.  Well, here’s two and eightpence halfpenny towards your loss.

6.  Sir Andrew Fountaine came this morning, and caught me writing in bed.  I went into the city with him; and we dined at the Chop-house with Will Pate,[31] the learned woollen-draper:  then we sauntered at China-shops[32] and booksellers; went to the tavern, drank two pints of white wine, and never parted till ten:  and now I am come home, and must copy out some papers I intend for Mr. Harley, whom I am to see, as I told you, to-morrow afternoon; so that this night I shall say little to MD, but that I heartily wish myself with them, and will come as soon as I either fail, or compass my business.  We now hear daily of elections; and, in a list I saw yesterday of about twenty, there are seven or eight more Tories than in the last Parliament; so that I believe they need not fear a majority, with the help of those who will vote as the Court pleases.  But I have been told that Mr. Harley himself would not let the Tories be too numerous, for fear they should be insolent, and kick against him; and for that reason they have kept several Whigs in employments, who expected to be turned out every day; as Sir John Holland the Comptroller, and many others.  And so get you gone to your cards, and your claret and orange, at the Dean’s; and I’ll go write.

7.  I wonder when this letter will be finished:  it must go by Tuesday, that’s certain; and if I have one from MD before, I will not answer it, that’s as certain too.  ’Tis now morning, and I did not finish my papers for Mr. Harley last night; for you must understand Presto was sleepy, and made blunders and blots.  Very pretty that I must be writing to young women in a morning fresh and fasting, faith.  Well, good-morrow to you; and so I go to business, and lay aside this paper till night, sirrahs.—­At night.  Jack How[33] told Harley that if there were a lower place in hell than another, it was reserved for his porter,