Ireland till he had showed it me. Thus I have prevented a terrible
scandal to the Archbishop, by a piece of perfect good fortune. I will
let him know it by next post; and pray, if you pick it out, let me know,
and whether he is thankful for it; but say nothing.

9. I was to-day at the House of Commons again about their yarn, at Lord
Anglesea's desire; but the business is again put off till Monday. I
dined with Sir John Stanley, by an assignation I had made with Mr. St.
John, and George Granville, the Secretary at War; but they let in other
company, some ladies, and so we were not so easy as I intended. My head
is pretty tolerable, but every day I feel some little disorders; I have
left off snuff since Sunday, finding myself much worse after taking
a good deal at the Secretary's. I would not let him drink one drop of
champagne or burgundy without water, and in compliment I did so myself.
He is much better; but when he is well, he is like Stella, and will not
be governed. So go to your Stoyte's, and I'll go sleep.

10. I have been visiting Lady Worsley and Mrs. Barton today, and dined
soberly with my friend Lewis. The Dauphin is dead of an apoplexy; I wish
he had lived till the finishing of this letter, that it might be news
to you. Duncombe,(5) the rich alderman, died to-day, and I hear has left
the Duke of Argyle, who married his niece, two hundred thousand pounds;
I hope it is true, for I love that Duke mightily. I writ this evening to
the Archbishop of Dublin, about what I told you; and then went to take
leave of poor Mrs. St. John, who gave me strict charge to take care of
the Secretary in her absence; said she had none to trust but me; and the
poor creature's tears came fresh in her eyes. Before we took leave, I
was drawn in by the other ladies and Sir John Stanley to raffle for
a fan, with a pox; it was four guineas, and we put in seven shillings
apiece, several raffling for absent people; but I lost, and so missed an
opportunity of showing my gallantry to Mrs. St. John, whom I designed
to have presented it to if I had won. Is Dilly(6) gone to the Bath? His
face will whizz in the water; I suppose he will write to us from thence,
and will take London in his way back.--The rabble will say, "There goes
a drunken parson"; and, which is worse, they will say true. Oh, but you
must know I carried Ford to dine with Mr. St. John last Sunday, that he
may brag, when he goes back, of dining with a Secretary of State. The
Secr