ite. Mr.
Walls writes about three things. First, about a hundred pounds from
Dr. Raymond, of which I hear nothing, and it is now too late. Secondly,
about Mr. Clements:(24) I can do nothing in it, because I am not to
mention Mr. Pratt; and I cannot recommend without knowing Mr. Pratt's
objections, whose relation Clements is, and who brought him into the
place. The third is about my being godfather to the child:(25) that
is in my power, and (since there is no remedy) will submit. I wish you
could hinder it; but if it can't be helped, pay what you think proper,
and get the Provost to stand for me, and let his Christian name be
Harley, in honour of my friend, now lying stabbed and doubtful of his
life. As for Bernage, he writes me word that his colonel has offered to
make him captain-lieutenant for a hundred pounds. He was such a fool to
offer him money without writing to me till it was done, though I have
had a dozen letters from him; and then he desires I would say nothing of
this, for fear his colonel should be angry. People are mad. What can
I do? I engaged Colonel Disney, who was one of his solicitors to the
Secretary, and then told him the story. He assured me that Fielding
(Bernage's colonel) said he might have got that sum; but, on account of
those great recommendations he had, would give it him for nothing: and I
would have Bernage write him a letter of thanks, as of a thing given him
for nothing, upon recommendations, etc. Disney tells me he will again
speak to Fielding, and clear up this matter; then I will write to
Bernage. A pox on him for promising money till I had it promised to me;
and then making it such a ticklish point, that one cannot expostulate
with the colonel upon it: but let him do as I say, and there is an
end. I engaged the Secretary of State in it; and am sure it was meant a
kindness to me, and that no money should be given, and a hundred pounds
is too much in a Smithfield bargain,(26) as a major-general told me,
whose opinion I asked. I am now hurried, and can say no more. Farewell,
etc. etc.

How shall I superscribe to your new lodgings, pray, madams? Tell me but
that, impudence and saucy-face.

Are not you sauceboxes to write "lele"(27) like Presto? O poor Presto!

Mr. Harley is better to-night, that makes me so pert, you saucy Gog and
Magog.

LETTER 18.

LONDON, March 10, 1710-11.

Pretty little MD must expect little from me till Mr. Harley is out of
danger. We hope he is so no