London, December 26, O. S. 1749.

My dear friend:  The new year is the season in which custom seems more particularly to authorize civil and harmless lies, under the name of compliments.  People reciprocally profess wishes which they seldom form; and concern, which they seldom feel.  This is not the case between you and me, where truth leaves no room for compliments.

‘Dii tibi dent annos, de to nam caetera sumes’, was said formerly to one by a man who certainly did not think it.  With the variation of one word only, I will with great truth say it to you.  I will make the first part conditional by changing, in the second, the ‘nam’ into ‘si’.  May you live as long as you are fit to live, but no longer! or may you rather die before you cease to be fit to live, than after!  My true tenderness for you makes me think more of the manner than of the length of your life, and forbids me to wish it prolonged, by a single day, that should bring guilt, reproach, and shame upon you.  I have not malice enough in my nature, to wish that to my greatest enemy.  You are the principal object of all my cares, the only object of all my hopes; I have now reason to believe, that you will reward the former, and answer the latter; in that case, may you live long, for you must live happy; ’de te nam caetera sumes’.  Conscious virtue is the only solid foundation of all happiness; for riches, power, rank, or whatever, in the common acceptation of the word, is supposed to constitute happiness, will never quiet, much less cure, the inward pangs of guilt.  To that main wish, I will add those of the good old nurse of Horace, in his epistle to Tibullus:  ‘Sapere’, you have it in a good degree already.  ‘Et fari ut possit quae sentiat’.  Have you that?  More, much more is meant by it, than common speech or mere articulation.  I fear that still remains to be wished for, and I earnestly wish it to you.  ‘Gratia and Fama’ will inevitably accompany the above-mentioned qualifications.  The ‘Valetudo’ is the only one that is not in your own power; Heaven alone can grant it you, and may it do so abundantly!  As for the ‘mundus victus, non deficiente crumena’, do you deserve, and I will provide them.

It is with the greatest pleasure that I consider the fair prospect which you have before you.  You have seen, read, and learned more, at your age, than most young fellows have done at two or three-and-twenty.  Your destination is a shining one, and leads to rank, fortune, and distinction.  Your education has been calculated for it; and, to do you justice, that education has not been thrown away upon you.  You want but two things, which do not want conjuration, but only care, to acquire:  eloquence and manners; that is, the graces of speech, and the graces of behavior.  You may have them; they are as much in your power as powdering your hair is; and will you let the want of them obscure (as it certainly will do) that shining prospect which presents itself to you.  I am sure