10. Poor MD's letter was lying so huddled up among papers, I could not find
it: I mean poor Presto's letter. Well, I dined with Mr. Harley to-day, and
hope some things will be done; but I must say no more: and this letter must
be sent to the post-house, and not by the bellman.[52] I am to dine again
there on Sunday next; I hope to some good issue. And so now, soon as ever I
can in bed, I must begin my 6th to MD as gravely as if I had not written a
word this month: fine doings, faith! Methinks I don't write as I should,
because I am not in bed: see the ugly wide lines. God Almighty ever bless
you, etc.

Faith, this is a whole treatise; I'll go reckon the lines on the other sides.
I've reckoned them.[53]



LETTER 6.

LONDON, Oct. 10, 1710.

So, as I told you just now in the letter I sent half an hour ago, I dined with
Mr. Harley to-day, who presented me to the Attorney-General, Sir Simon
Harcourt, with much compliment on all sides, etc. Harley told me he had shown
my memorial to the Queen, and seconded it very heartily; and he desires me to
dine with him again on Sunday, when he promises to settle it with Her Majesty,
before she names a Governor:[1] and I protest I am in hopes it will be done,
all but the forms, by that time; for he loves the Church. This is a popular
thing, and he would not have a Governor share in it; and, besides, I am told
by all hands, he has a mind to gain me over. But in the letter I writ last
post (yesterday) to the Archbishop, I did not tell him a syllable of what Mr.
Harley said to me last night, because he charged me to keep it secret; so I