Three mails are now due from Holland; so that I have no letters from you to acknowledge.  I therefore conclude with recommending myself to your favor and protection when you succeed.  Yours.

LETTER XXVI

London, January 29, O. S. 1748.

Dear boy:  I find, by Mr. Harte’s last letter, that many of my letters to you and him, have been frozen up on their way to Leipsig; the thaw has, I suppose, by this time, set them at liberty to pursue their journey to you, and you will receive a glut of them at once.  Hudibras alludes, in this verse,

        “Like words congealed in northern air,”

to a vulgar notion, that in Greenland words were frozen in their utterance; and that upon a thaw, a very mixed conversation was heard in the air, of all those words set at liberty.  This conversation was, I presume, too various and extensive to be much attended to:  and may not that be the case of half a dozen of my long letters, when you receive them all at once?  I think that I can, eventually, answer that question, thus:  If you consider my letters in their true light, as conveying to you the advice of a friend, who sincerely wishes your happiness, and desires to promote your pleasure, you will both read and attend to them; but, if you consider them in their opposite, and very false light, as the dictates of a morose and sermonizing father, I am sure they will be not only unattended to, but unread.  Which is the case, you can best tell me.  Advice is seldom welcome; and those who want it the most always like it the least.  I hope that your want of experience, of which you must be conscious, will convince you, that you want advice; and that your good sense will incline you to follow it.

Tell me how you pass your leisure hours at Leipsig; I know you have not many; and I have too good an opinion of you to think, that, at this age, you would desire more.  Have you assemblies, or public spectacles? and of what kind are they?  Whatever they are, see them all; seeing everything, is the only way not to admire anything too much.

If you ever take up little tale-books, to amuse you by snatches, I will recommend two French books, which I have already mentioned; they will entertain you, and not without some use to your mind and your manners.  One is, ‘La Maniere de bien penser dans les Ouvrages d’Esprit’, written by Pere Bouhours; I believe you read it once in England, with Monsieur Coderc; but I think that you will do well to read it again, as I know of no book that will form your taste better.  The other is, ’L’Art de plaire dans la Conversation’, by the Abbe de Bellegarde, and is by no means useless, though I will not pretend to say, that the art of pleasing can be reduced to a receipt; if it could, I am sure that receipt would be worth purchasing at any price.  Good sense, and good nature, are the principal ingredients; and your own observation, and the good advice of others, must give the right color and taste to it.  Adieu!  I shall always love you as you shall deserve.