who tells lies so gravely, and with so civil a manner.  This porter I have had to deal with, going this evening at four to visit Mr. Harley, by his own appointment.  But the fellow told me no lie, though I suspected every word he said.  He told me his master was just gone to dinner, with much company, and desired I would come an hour hence:  which I did, expecting to hear Mr. Harley was gone out; but they had just done dinner.  Mr. Harley came out to me, brought me in, and presented to me his son-in-law Lord Doblane[34] (or some such name) and his own son,[35] and, among others, Will Penn[36] the Quaker:  we sat two hours drinking as good wine as you do; and two hours more he and I alone; where he heard me tell my business; entered into it with all kindness; asked for my powers, and read them; and read likewise a memorial[37] I had drawn up, and put it in his pocket to show the Queen; told me the measures he would take; and, in short, said everything I could wish:  told me, he must bring Mr. St. John[38] (Secretary of State) and me acquainted; and spoke so many things of personal kindness and esteem for me, that I am inclined half to believe what some friends have told me, that he would do everything to bring me over.  He has desired to dine with me (what a comical mistake was that!).  I mean he has desired me to dine with him on Tuesday; and after four hours being with him, set me down at St. James’s Coffee-house in a hackney-coach.  All this is odd and comical, if you consider him and me.  He knew my Christian name very well.  I could not forbear saying thus much upon this matter, although you will think it tedious.  But I’ll tell you; you must know, ’tis fatal[39] to me to be a scoundrel and a prince the same day:  for, being to see him at four, I could not engage myself to dine at any friend’s; so I went to Tooke,[40] to give him a ballad, and dine with him; but he was not at home:  so I was forced to go to a blind[41] chop-house, and dine for tenpence upon gill-ale,[42] bad broth, and three chops of mutton; and then go reeking from thence to the First Minister of State.  And now I am going in charity to send Steele a Tatler, who is very low of late.  I think I am civiller than I used to be; and have not used the expression of “you in Ireland” and “we in England” as I did when I was here before, to your great indignation.—­They may talk of the you know what;[43] but, gad, if it had not been for that, I should never have been able to get the access I have had; and if that helps me to succeed, then that same thing will be serviceable to the Church.  But how far we must depend upon new friends, I have learnt by long practice, though I think among great Ministers, they are just as good as old ones.  And so I think this important day has made a great hole in this side of the paper; and the fiddle-faddles of tomorrow and Monday will make up the rest; and, besides, I shall see Harley on Tuesday before this letter goes.