ittle Harrison the new Tatler, and Jervas the
painter, dined to-day with James,(3) I know not his other name, but it
is one of Darteneuf's dining-places, who is a true epicure. James is
clerk of the kitchen to the Queen, and has a little snug house at St.
James's; and we had the Queen's wine, and such very fine victuals that
I could not eat it. Three weeks and three days since my last letter from
MD; rare doings! why, truly we were so busy with poor Mrs. Walls, that
indeed, Presto, we could not write, we were afraid the poor woman would
have died; and it pitied us to see the Archdeacon, how concerned he was.
The Dean never came to see her but once; but now she is up again, and we
go and sit with her in the evenings. The child died the next day after
it was born; and I believe, between friends, she is not very sorry for
it.--Indeed, Presto, you are plaguy silly tonight, and han't guessed one
word right; for she and the child are both well, and it is a fine girl,
likely to live; and the Dean was godfather, and Mrs. Catherine and I
were godmothers; I was going to say Stoyte, but I think I have heard
they don't put maids and married women together; though I know not why I
think so, nor I don't care; what care I? but I must prate, etc.

28. I walked to-day into the City for my health, and there dined; which
I always do when the weather is fair, and business permits, that I may
be under a necessity of taking a good walk, which is the best thing I
can do at present for my health. Some bookseller has raked up everything
I writ, and published it t'other day in one volume; but I know nothing
of it, 'twas without my knowledge or consent: it makes a four-shilling
book, and is called Miscellanies in Prose and Verse.(4) Tooke pretends
he knows nothing of it; but I doubt he is at the bottom. One must have
patience with these things; the best of it is, I shall be plagued
no more. However, I will bring a couple of them over with me for MD;
perhaps you may desire to see them. I hear they sell mightily.

March 1. Morning. I have been calling to Patrick to look in his almanac
for the day of the month; I did not know but it might be leap-year. The
almanac says 'tis the third after leap-year; and I always thought till
now, that every third year was leap-year. I am glad they come so seldom;
but I'm sure 'twas otherwise when I was a young man; I see times are
mightily changed since then.--Write to me, sirrahs; be sure do by the
time this side