I honestly delivered my message to the treasurer, adding, "the knight was a puppy, whom I would not give a groat to save from the gallows." Cole, Reading's father-in-law, has been two or three times at me to recommend his lights to the ministry; assuring me, "that a word of mine would," &c. Did not that dog use to speak ill of me, and profess to hate me? he knows not where I lodge, for I told him I lived in the country; and I have ordered Patrick to deny me constantly to him. Did the bishop of London die in Wexford ? poor gentleman! did he drink the waters? were you at his burial? was it a great funeral? so far from his friends? But he was very old: we shall all follow, And yet it was a pity, if God pleased. He was a good man; not very learned: I believe he died but poor. Did he leave any charity legacies? who held up his pall? was there a great sight of clergy? do they design a tomb for him? are you sure it was the bishop of London? because there is an elderly gentleman here that we give the same title to or did you fancy all this in your water, as others do strange things in their wine? they say, these waters trouble the head, and make people imagine what never came to pass. Do you make no more of killing a bishop? are these your whiggish tricks? Yes, yes, I see you are in a fret. O faith, says yo, saucy Presto, I'll break your head; what, can't one report what one hears, without being made a jest and a laughing stock? are these your English tricks, with a murrain ? and Sacheverell will be the next bishop? he would be glad of an addition of two hundred pounds a year to what he has; and that is more than they will give him, for aught I see. He hates the new ministry mortally, and they hate him, and pretend to despise him too. They will not allow him to have been the occasion of the late change; at least some of them

:

will not; but my lord keeper owned it to me t'other day. No, Mr. Addison does not go to Ireland this year he pretended he would; but he is gone to Bath with pastoral Philips, for his eyes. So now I have run over your letter; and I think this shall go to morrow, which will be just a fortnight from the last, and bring things to the old form again after your rambles to Wexford, and mine to Windsor. Are there not many literal faults in my letters? I never read them over, and I fancy there are. What do you do then? do you guess my meaning; or are you acquainted with my manner of mistaking? I lost my handkerchief in the Mall to night with Lord Radnor: but I made him walk with me to find it, and find it I did not. Tisdall (that lodges with me) and I have had no conversation, nor do we pull off our hats in the streets. There is a cousin of his (I suppose) a young parson, that lodges in the house too; a handsome genteel fellow. Dick Tighe* and his wife lodged over against us; and he has been seen, out of our upper windows, beating her two or three times: they are both gone to Ireland, but not together; and he solemnly vows never to live with her. Neighbours do not stick to say she has a tongue in short, I am told, she is the most urging, provoking devil that ever was born; and he a hot whiffling puppy, very apt to resent. I'll keep this bottom till to-morrow: I'm sleepy.

25. I was with the secretary this morning, who was in a mighty hurry, and went to Windsor in a chariot with lord keeper; so I was not invited, and am forced to stay at home; but not at all against my will; for I could have gone, and would not. I dined in the city with one of my printers, for whom I got the gazette, and am come home early; and have nothing to say to

* Afterward a privy counsellor in Ireland. N..

and when that

I never got a

you more, but finish this letter, and not send it by the bellman. Days grow short, and the weather grows bad, and the town is splenetic, and things are so oddly contrived, that I cannot be absent; otherwise I would go for a few days to Oxford, as I promised. They say, 'tis certain that Prior has been in France; nobody doubts it: I had not time to ask the secretary, he was in such haste. Well, I will take my leave of dearest MD for a while, for I must begin my next letter to night consider that, young women; and pray be merry, and good girls, and love Presto. There is now but one business the ministry wants me for; is done, I will take my leave of them. penny from them, nor expect it. In my opinion, some things stand very ticklish; I dare say nothing at this distance. Farewell, dear sirrahs, dearest lives: there is peace and quiet with MD, and no where else. They have not leisure here to think of small things, which may ruin them; and I have been forward enough. Farewell again, dearest rogues: I am never happy, but when I write or think of MD. I have enough of courts and ministers: and wish I were at Laracor: and if I could with honour come away this moment, I would. Bernage* came to see me to-day; he is just landed from Portugal, and come to raise recruits: he looks very well, and seems pleased with his station and manner of life he never saw London nor England before; he is ravished with Kent, which was his first prospect when he landed. Farewell again, &c. &c.

* Dr. Swift obtained for Mr. Bernage, who was educated in the university of Dublin, an ensign's commission from the earl of Pembroke, when lord lieutenant. He was afterward made a captain, but was disbanded at the peace of Utrecht. He sent the dean some fine medals and other curiosities from Rome. N.

LETTER XXIX.

London, Aug. 25, 1711.

I HAVE got a pretty small gilt sheet of paper to write to MD. I have this moment sent my 28th by Patrick, who tells me he has put it in the post-office: 'tis directed to your lodgings: if it wants more particular direction, you must set me right. It is now a solar month and two days since the date of your last, No. 18, and I reckon you are now quiet at home, and thinking to begin your 19th, which will be full of your quarrel between the two houses, all which I know already. Where shall I diue to-morrow? can you tell? Mrs. Vanhomrigh boards now, and cannot invite one; and there I used to dine when I was at a loss; and all my friends are gone out of town, and your town is now at the fullest with your parliament and convocation. But let me alone, sirrahs; for Presto is going to be very busy; not Presto, but t'other I.

26. People have so left the town, that I am at a loss for a dinner. It is a long time since I have been at London upon a Sunday; and the ministers are all at Windsor. It cost me eighteen pence in coach hire before I could find a place to dine in. I went to Frankland's, and he was abroad, and the drab his wife looked out of window, and bowed to me without inviting me up; so I dined with Mr. Coote, my Lord Montrath's brother; my lord is with you in Ireland. This morning at five my Lord Jersey died of the gout in his stomach, or apoplexy, or both he was abroad yesterday, and his death was sudden: he was chamberlain to King William, and a great favourite, turned out by the queen as a tory, and stood now fair to be privy seal; and by his death will, I suppose, make that matter easier, which has been a

very stubborn business at court, as I have been inform ed. I never remembered so many people of quality to have died in so short a time.

27. I went to-day into the city to thank Stratford for my books, and dine with him, and settle my affairs of my money in the bank, and receive a bill for Mrs. Wesley for some things to buy for her; and the d- a one of all these could I do. The merchants were all out of town, and I was forced to go to a little hedge place for my dinner. May my enemies live here in summer! and yet I am so unlucky that I cannot possibly be out of the way at this juncture. People leave the town so late in summer, and return so late in winter, that they have almost inverted the seasons. It is autumn this good while in St. James's park; the limes have been losing their leaves, and those remaining on the trees are all parched: I hate this season, where every thing grows worse and worse. The only good thing of it is the fruit, and that I dare not cat. Had you any fruit at Wexford? a few cherries, and durst not eat them. I do not hear we have yet got a new privy seal. The whigs whisper, that our new ministry differ among themselves, and they begin to talk out Mr. Secretary; they have some reasons for their whispers, although I thought it was a greater secret. I do not much like the posture of things; I always apprehended, that any falling out would ruin them, and so I have told them several times. The whigs are mighty full of hopes at present: and whatever is the matter, all kind of stocks fall. I have not yet talked with the secretary about Prior's journey. I should be apt to think it may foretell a peace; and that is all we have to preserve us. The secretary is not come from Windsor; but I expect him to-morrow. Burn all politics!