for my old friends, if you mean the Whigs, I never see them, as you may find by my journals, except Lord Halifax, and him very seldom; Lord Somers never since the first visit, for he has been a false, deceitful rascal.[16] My new friends are very kind, and I have promises enough, but I do not count upon them, and besides my pretences are very young to them.  However, we will see what may be done; and if nothing at all, I shall not be disappointed; although perhaps poor MD may, and then I shall be sorrier for their sakes than my own.—­Talk of a merry Christmas (why do you write it so then, young women? sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander), I have wished you all that two or three letters ago.  Good lack; and your news, that Mr. St. John is going to Holland; he has no such thoughts, to quit the great station he is in; nor, if he had, could I be spared to go with him.  So, faith, politic Madam Stella, you come with your two eggs a penny, etc.  Well, Madam Dingley, and so Mrs. Stoyte invites you, and so you stay at Donnybrook, and so you could not write.  You are plaguy exact in your journals, from Dec. 25 to Jan. 4.  Well, Smyth and the palsy-water I have handled already, and he does not lodge (or rather did not, for, poor man, now he is gone) at Mr. Jesse’s, and all that stuff; but we found his lodging, and I went to Stella’s mother on my own head, for I never remembered it was in the letter to desire another bottle; but I was so fretted, so tosticated, and so impatient that Stella should have her water (I mean decently, do not be rogues), and so vexed with Sterne’s carelessness.—­Pray God, Stella’s illness may not return!  If they come seldom, they begin to be weary; I judge by myself; for when I seldom visit, I grow weary of my acquaintance.—­Leave a good deal of my tenth unanswered!  Impudent slut, when did you ever answer my tenth, or ninth, or any other number? or who desires you to answer, provided you write?  I defy the D——­ to answer my letters:  sometimes there may be one or two things I should be glad you would answer; but I forget them, and you never think of them.  I shall never love answering letters again, if you talk of answering.  Answering, quotha! pretty answerers truly.—­As for the pamphlet you speak of, and call it scandalous, and that one Mr. Presto is said to write it, hear my answer.  Fie, child, you must not mind what every idle body tells you—­I believe you lie, and that the dogs were not crying it when you said so; come, tell truth.  I am sorry you go to St. Mary’s[17] so soon, you will be as poor as rats; that place will drain you with a vengeance:  besides, I would have you think of being in the country in summer.  Indeed, Stella, pippins produced plentifully; Parvisol could not send from Laracor:  there were about half a score, I would be glad to know whether they were good for anything.—­Mrs. Walls at Donnybrook with you; why is not she brought to bed?  Well, well, well, Dingley, pray be satisfied; you talk as