again. O Lord, an't here a clutter and a stir, and a bustle? never
saw the like. Faith, I believe yours lay some days at the post-office,
and that it came before my eighteenth went, but that I did not expect
it, and I hardly ever go there. Well, and so you think I'll answer this
letter now; no, faith, and so I won't. I'll make you wait, young women;
but I'll inquire immediately about poor Dingley's exchequer trangum.(9)
What, is that Vedel again a soldier? was he broke? I'll put it in Ben
Tooke's hand. I hope Vedel could not sell it.--At night. Vedel, Vedel,
poh, pox, I think it is Vedeau;(10) ay, Vedeau, now I have it; let me
see, do you name him in yours? Yes, Mr. John Vedeau is the brother; but
where does this brother live? I'll inquire. This was a fast-day for the
public; so I dined late with Sir Matthew Dudley, whom I have not been
with a great while. He is one of those that must lose his employment
whenever the great shake comes; and I can't contribute to keep him in,
though I have dropped words in his favour to the Ministry; but he is too
violent a Whig, and friend to the Lord Treasurer,(11) to stay in. 'Tis
odd to think how long they let those people keep their places; but the
reason is, they have not enough to satisfy all expecters, and so they
keep them all in hopes, that they may be good boys in the meantime; and
thus the old ones hold in still. The Comptroller(12) told me that there
are eight people expect his staff. I walked after dinner to-day round
the Park. What, do I write politics to little young women? Hold your
tongue, and go to your Dean's.

29. Morning. If this be a fine day, I will walk into the City, and see
Charles Barnard's library. What care I for your letter, saucy N.12? I
will say nothing to it yet: faith, I believe this will be full before
its time, and then go it must. I will always write once a fortnight; and
if it goes sooner by filling sooner, why, then there is so much clear
gain. Morrow, morrow, rogues and lasses both, I can't lie scribbling
here in bed for your play; I must rise, and so morrow again.--At night.
Your friend Montgomery and his sister are here, as I am told by Patrick.
I have seen him often, but take no notice of him: he is grown very ugly
and pimpled. They tell me he is a gamester, and wins money.--How could I
help it, pray? Patrick snuffed the candle too short, and the grease ran
down upon the paper.(13) It an't my fault, 'tis Patrick's fault; pray
now don't blame Pres