How happy am I, my dear child, that I can apply to you for knowledge, and with a certainty of being rightly informed!  It is knowledge, more than quick, flashy parts, that makes a man of business.  A man who is master of his matter, twill, with inferior parts, be too hard in parliament, and indeed anywhere else, for a man of-better parts, who knows his subject but superficially:  and if to his knowledge he joins eloquence and elocution, he must necessarily soon be at the head of that assembly; but without those two, no knowledge is sufficient.

Lord Huntingdon writes me word that he has seen you, and that you have renewed your old school-acquaintance.

Tell me fairly your opinion of him, and of his friend Lord Stormount:  and also of the other English people of fashion you meet with.  I promise you inviolable secrecy on my part.  You and I must now write to each other —­as friends, and without the least reserve; there will for the future be a thousand-things in my letters, which I would not have any mortal living but yourself see or know.  Those you will easily distinguish, and neither show nor repeat; and I will do the same by you.

To come to another subject (for I have a pleasure in talking over every subject with you):  How deep are you in Italian?  Do you understand Ariosto, Tasso, Boccaccio and Machiavelli?  If you do, you know enough of it and may know all the rest, by reading, when you have time.  Little or no business is written in Italian, except in Italy; and if you know enough of it to understand the few Italian letters that may in time come in your way, and to speak Italian tolerably to those very few Italians who speak no French, give yourself no further trouble about that language till you happen to have full leisure to perfect yourself in it.  It is not the same with regard to German; your speaking and writing it well, will particularly distinguish you from every other man in England; and is, moreover, of great use to anyone who is, as probably you will be, employed in the Empire.  Therefore, pray cultivate them sedulously, by writing four or five lines of German every day, and by speaking it to every German you meet with.

You have now got a footing in a great many good houses at Paris, in which I advise you to make yourself domestic.  This is to be done by a certain easiness of carriage, and a decent familiarity.  Not by way of putting yourself upon the frivolous footing of being ‘sans consequence’, but by doing in some degree, the honors of the house and table, calling yourself ‘en badinant le galopin d’ici’, saying to the masters or mistress, ’ceci est de mon departement; je m’en charge; avouez, que je m’en acquitte a merveille.’  This sort of ‘badinage’ has something engaging and ‘liant’ in it, and begets that decent familiarity, which it is both agreeable and useful to establish in good houses and with people of fashion.  Mere formal visits, dinners, and suppers, upon formal invitations, are not the thing; they add to no connection nor information; but it is the easy, careless ingress and egress at all hours, that forms the pleasing and profitable commerce of life.