Mr. Harte will determine your route to Rome as he shall think best; whether along the coast of the Adriatic, or that of the Mediterranean, it is equal to me; but you will observe to come back a different way from that you went.

Since your health is so well restored, I am not sorry that you have returned to Venice, for I love capitals.  Everything is best at capitals; the best masters, the best companions, and the best manners.  Many other places are worth seeing, but capitals only are worth residing at.  I am very glad that Madame Capello received you so well.  Monsieur I was sure would:  pray assure them both of my respects, and of my sensibility of their kindness to you.  Their house will be a very good one for you at Rome; and I would advise you to be domestic in it if you can.  But Madame, I can tell you, requires great attentions.  Madame Micheli has written a very favorable account of you to my friend the Abbe Grossa Testa, in a letter which he showed me, and in which there are so many civil things to myself, that I would wish to tell her how much I think myself obliged to her.  I approve very much of the allotment of your time at Venice; pray go on so for a twelvemonth at least, wherever you are.  You will find your own account in it.

I like your last letter, which gives me an account of yourself, and your own transactions; for though I do not recommend the egotism to you, with regard to anybody else, I desire that you will use it with me, and with me only.  I interest myself in all that you do; and as yet (excepting Mr. Harte) nobody else does.  He must of course know all, and I desire to know a great deal.

I am glad you have received, and that you like the diamond buckles.  I am very willing that you should make, but very unwilling that you should cut a figure with them at the jubilee; the cutting A figure being the very lowest vulgarism in the English language; and equal in elegancy to Yes, my Lady, and No, my Lady.  The word vast and vastly, you will have found by my former letter that I had proscribed out of the diction of a gentleman, unless in their proper signification of sizes and bulk.  Not only in language, but in everything else, take great care that the first impressions you give of yourself may be not only favorable, but pleasing, engaging, nay, seducing.  They are often decisive; I confess they are a good deal so with me:  and I cannot wish for further acquaintance with a man whose first ‘abord’ and address displease me.

So many of my letters have miscarried, and I know so little which, that I am forced to repeat the same thing over and over again eventually.  This is one.  I have wrote twice to Mr. Harte, to have your picture drawn in miniature, while you were at Venice; and send it me in a letter:  it is all one to me whether in enamel or in watercolors, provided it is but very like you.  I would have you drawn exactly as you are, and in no whimsical dress: