I have not seen Fanny Manley yet; I can't help it. Lady Orkney is come to town: why, she was at her country house, what care you? Night, MD.
20. Dilly read me a letter to day, from Ppt. She seems to have scratched her head when she wrote it. 'Tis a sad thing to write to people without taste. There you say, you hear I was going to Bath. No such thing; I am pretty well, I thank God. The town is now sending me to Savoy. Forty people have given me joy of it, yet there is not the least truth that I know in it. I was at an auction of pictures, but bought none. I was so glad of my liberty, that I would dine no where; but, the weather being fine, I sauntered into the city, and ate a bit about five, and then supped at Mr. Burke's, your accomptant general, who had been engaging me this month. The bishop of Clogher was to have been there, but was hindered by lord Paget's funeral. The provost and I sat till one o'clock; and, if that be not late, I don't know what is late. Parnell's poem will be published on Monday, and to morrow I design he shall present it lord treasurer and lord Bolingbroke at court. The poor lad is almost always out of order with his head. Burke's wife is his sister. She has a little of the pert Irish way. Night, MD.
21. Morning. I will now finish my letter; for company will come, and a stir, and a clutter; and I'll keep the letter in my pocket, and give it into the post myself I must go to court, and you know on Saturday I dine with lord treasurer of course. Farewell, dearest MD, FW, Me, Lele.
