LETTER XXVIII.
I SENT away my twenty-seventh this morning in an express to London, and directed to Mr. Reading: this shall go to your lodgings, where I reckon you will be returned before it reaches you. I intended to go to the race to day, but was hindered by a visit, I believe I told you so in my last. I dined to day at the green cloth, where every body had been at the race but myself, and we were twenty in all; and very noisy company: but I made the vice chamberlain and two friends more sit at a sidetable, to be a little quiet. At six I went to see the secretary, who is returned; but lord keeper sent to desire I would sup with him, where I staid till just now; lord treasurer and secretary were to come to us, but both failed. 'Tis late, &c.
12. I was this morning to visit lord keeper, who made me reproaches that I had never visited him at Windsor. He had a present sent him of delicious peaches, and he was champing and champing, but I durst not eat one; I wished Dingley had some of them, for poor Stella can no more eat fruit than Presto. Dilly Ashe is come to Windsor; and after church I carried him up to the drawingroom, and talked to the keeper and treasurer, on purpose to show them to him, and he saw the queen and several great lords, and the duchess of Montague; he was mighty happy, and resolves to fill a letter to the bishop[1]. My friend Lewis and I dined soberly with
