Dii tibi dent annos, de to nam caetera sumes.

This minute, I receive your letter of the 26th past, which gives me a very disagreeable reason for your late silence.  By the symptoms which you mention of your illness, I both hope and believe that it was wholly owing to your own want of care.  You are rather inclined to be fat, you have naturally a good stomach, and you eat at the best tables; which must of course make you plethoric:  and upon my word you will be very subject to these accidents, if you will not, from time to time, when you find yourself full, heated, or your head aching, take some little, easy, preventative purge, that would not confine you; such as chewing a little rhubarb when you go to bed at night; or some senna tea in the morning.  You do very well to live extremely low, for some time; and I could wish, though I do not expect it, that you would take one gentle vomit; for those giddinesses and swimmings in the head always proceed from some foulness of the stomach.  However, upon the whole, I am very glad that your old complaint has not mixed itself with this, which I am fully convinced arises simply from your own negligence.  Adieu.

I am sorry for Monsieur Kurze, upon his sister’s account.

LETTER CLXXXVI

London, January 15, 1753

My dear friend:  I never think my time so well employed, as when I think it employed to your advantage.  You have long had the greatest share of it; you now engross it.  The moment is now decisive; the piece is going to be exhibited to the public; the mere out lines and the general coloring are not sufficient to attract the eyes and to secure applause; but the last finishing, artful, and delicate strokes are necessary.  Skillful judges will discern and acknowledge their merit; the ignorant will, without knowing why, feel their power.  In that view, I have thrown together, for your perusal, some maxims; or, to speak more properly, observations on men and things; for I have no merit as to the invention:  I am no system monger; and, instead of giving way to my imagination, I have only consulted my memory; and my conclusions are all drawn from facts, not from fancy.  Most maxim mongers have preferred the prettiness to the justness of a thought, and the turn to the truth; but I have refused myself to everything that my own experience did not justify and confirm.  I wish you would consider them seriously, and separately, and recur to them again ‘pro re nata’ in similar cases.  Young men are as apt to think themselves wise enough, as drunken men are to think themselves sober enough.  They look upon spirit to be a much better thing than experience; which they call coldness.  They are but half mistaken; for though spirit, without experience, is dangerous, experience, without spirit, is languid and defective.  Their union, which is very rare, is perfection; you may join them, if you please; for all my experience is