A certain degree of exterior seriousness in looks and motions gives dignity, without excluding wit and decent cheerfulness, which are always serious themselves.  A constant smirk upon the face, and a whifing activity of the body, are strong indications of futility.  Whoever is in a hurry, shows that the thing he is about is too big for him.  Haste and hurry are very different things.

I have only mentioned some of those things which may, and do, in the opinion of the world, lower and sink characters, in other respects valuable enough,—­but I have taken no notice of those that affect and sink the moral characters.  They are sufficiently obvious.  A man who has patiently been kicked may as well pretend to courage, as a man blasted by vices and crimes may to dignity of any kind.  But an exterior decency and dignity of manners will even keep such a man longer from sinking, than otherwise he would be:  of such consequence is the [****], even though affected and put on!  Pray read frequently, and with the utmost attention, nay, get by heart, if you can, that incomparable chapter in Cicero’s “Offices,” upon the [****], or the Decorum.  It contains whatever is necessary for the dignity of manners.

In my next I will send you a general map of courts; a region yet unexplored by you, but which you are one day to inhabit.  The ways are generally crooked and full of turnings, sometimes strewed with flowers, sometimes choked up with briars; rotten ground and deep pits frequently lie concealed under a smooth and pleasing surface; all the paths are slippery, and every slip is dangerous.  Sense and discretion must accompany you at your first setting out; but, notwithstanding those, till experience is your guide, you will every now and then step out of your way, or stumble.

Lady Chesterfield has just now received your German letter, for which she thanks you; she says the language is very correct; and I can plainly see that the character is well formed, not to say better than your English character.  Continue to write German frequently, that it may become quite familiar to you.  Adieu.

LETTER LXXIX

London, August 21, O. S. 1749.

Dear boy:  By the last letter that I received from Mr. Harte, of the 31st July, N. S., I suppose you are now either at Venice or Verona, and perfectly re covered of your late illness:  which I am daily more and more convinced had no consumptive tendency; however, for some time still, ‘faites comme s’il y en avoit’, be regular, and live pectorally.