d roast the oranges.

5. I dined to-day with my friend Lewis, and we were deep in politics
how to save the present Ministry; for I am afraid of Mr. Secretary, as
I believe I told you. I went in the evening to see Mr. Harley; and, upon
my word, I was in perfect joy. Mr. Secretary was just going out of the
door; but I made him come back, and there was the old Saturday Club,
Lord Keeper, Lord Rivers, Mr. Secretary, Mr. Harley, and I; the first
time since his stabbing. Mr. Secretary went away; but I stayed till
nine, and made Mr. Harley show me his breast, and tell all the story;
and I showed him the Archbishop of Dublin's letter, and defended him
effectually. We were all in mighty good humour. Lord Keeper and I left
them together, and I walked here after nine two miles, and I found a
parson drunk fighting with a seaman, and Patrick and I were so wise to
part them, but the seaman followed him to Chelsea, cursing at him, and
the parson slipped into a house, and I know no more. It mortified me to
see a man in my coat so overtaken. A pretty scene for one that just came
from sitting with the Prime Ministers! I had no money in my pocket, and
so could not be robbed. However, nothing but Mr. Harley shall make me
take such a journey again. We don't yet know who will be President in
Lord Rochester's room. I measured, and found that the penknife would
have killed Mr. Harley if it had gone but half the breadth of my
thumb-nail lower, so near was he to death. I was so curious as to ask
him what were his thoughts while they were carrying him home in the
chair. He said he concluded himself a dead man. He will not allow that
Guiscard gave him the second stab; though my Lord Keeper, who is blind,
and I that was not there, are positive in it. He wears a plaster still
as broad as half a crown. Smoke how wide the lines are, but, faith, I
don't do it on purpose: but I have changed my side in this new Chelsea
bed, and I do not know how, methinks, but it is so unfit, and so
awkward, never saw the like.

6. You must remember to enclose your letters in a fair paper, and direct
the outside thus: "To Erasmus Lewis, Esq.; at my Lord Dartmouth's office
at Whitehall." I said so before, but it may miscarry, you know, yet I
think none of my letters did ever miscarry; faith, I think never one;
among all the privateers and the storms. O, faith, my letters are too
good to be lost. MD's letters may tarry, but never miscarry, as the old
woman used to say. An