and drank a pint of ale cost me fivepence, and smoked his pipe, and it is now past eleven that he is just gone.  Well, my eighth is with you now, young women; and your seventh to me is somewhere in a post-boy’s bag; and so go to your gang of deans, and Stoytes, and Walls, and lose your money; go, sauceboxes:  and so good-night, and be happy, dear rogues.  Oh, but your box was sent to Dr. Hawkshaw by Sterne, and you will have it with Hawkshaw, and spectacles, etc., etc.

27.  To-day Mr. Harley met me in the Court of Requests,[5] and whispered me to dine with him.  At dinner I told him what those bishops had done, and the difficulty I was under.  He bid me never trouble myself; he would tell the Duke of Ormond the business was done, and that he need not concern himself about it.  So now I am easy, and they may hang themselves for a parcel of insolent, ungrateful rascals.  I suppose I told you in my last, how they sent an address to the Duke of Ormond, and a letter to Southwell, to call on me for the papers, after the thing was over; but they had not received my letter, though the Archbishop might, by what I writ to him, have expected it would be done.  Well, there is an end of that; and in a little time the Queen will send them notice, etc.  And so the methods will be settled; and then I shall think of returning, although the baseness of those bishops makes me love Ireland less than I did.

28.  Lord Halifax sent to invite me to dinner; where I stayed till six, and crossed him in all his Whig talk, and made him often come over to me.  I know he makes court to the new men, although he affects to talk like a Whig.  I had a letter to-day from the Bishop of Clogher; but I writ to him lately, that I would obey his commands to the Duke of Ormond.  He says I bid him read the London “Shaver,” and that you both swore it was “Shaver,” and not “Shower."[6] You all lie, and you are puppies, and can’t read Presto’s hand.  The Bishop is out entirely in his conjectures of my share in the Tatlers.—­I have other things to mind, and of much greater importance;[7] else I have little to do to be acquainted with a new Ministry, who consider me a little more than Irish bishops do.

29.  Now for your saucy, good dear letter:  let me see, what does it say? come then.  I dined to-day with Ford, and went home early; he debauched[8] me to his chamber again with a bottle of wine till twelve:  so good-night.  I cannot write an answer now, you rogues.

30.  To-day I have been visiting, which I had long neglected; and I dined with Mrs. Barton alone; and sauntered at the Coffee-house till past eight, and have been busy till eleven, and now I’ll answer your letter, saucebox.  Well, let me see now again.  My wax candle’s almost out, but however I’ll begin.  Well then, do not be so tedious, Mr. Presto; what can you say to MD’s letter?  Make haste, have done with your preambles—­Why, I say I am glad you