ne sais quoi’, which as some philosophers have, unintelligibly enough, said of the soul, is all in all, and all in every part; it should shed its influence over every word and action.  I fear the want of that air, and first ‘abord’, which suddenly lays hold of the heart, one does not know distinctly how or why.  I fear an inaccuracy, or, at least, inelegance of diction, which will wrong, and lower, the best and justest matter.  And, lastly, I fear an ungraceful, if not an unpleasant utterance, which would disgrace and vilify the whole.  Should these fears be at present founded, yet the objects of them are (thank God) of such a nature, that you may, if you please, between this and our meeting, remove everyone of them.  All these engaging and endearing accomplishments are mechanical, and to be acquired by care and observation, as easily as turning, or any mechanical trade.  A common country fellow, taken from the plow, and enlisted in an old corps, soon lays aside his shambling gait, his slouching air, his clumsy and awkward motions:  and acquires the martial air, the regular motions, and whole exercise of the corps, and particularly of his right and left hand man.  How so?  Not from his parts; which were just the same before as after he was enlisted; but either from a commendable ambition of being like, and equal to those he is to live with; or else from the fear of being punished for not being so.  If then both or either of these motives change such a fellow, in about six months’ time, to such a degree, as that he is not to be known again, how much stronger should both these motives be with you, to acquire, in the utmost perfection, the whole exercise of the people of fashion, with whom you are to live all your life?  Ambition should make you resolve to be at least their equal in that exercise, as well as the fear of punishment; which most inevitably will attend the want of it.  By that exercise, I mean the air, the manners, the graces, and the style of people of fashion.  A friend of yours, in a letter I received from him by the last post, after some other commendations of you, says, “It is surprising that, thinking with so much solidity as he does, and having so true and refined a taste, he should express himself with so little elegance and delicacy.  He even totally neglects the choice of words and turn of phrases.”

This I should not be so much surprised or concerned at, if it related only to the English language; which hitherto you have had no opportunity of studying, and but few of speaking, at least to those who could correct your inaccuracies.  But if you do not express yourself elegantly and delicately in French and German, (both which languages I know you possess perfectly and speak eternally) it can be only from an unpardonable inattention to what you most erroneously think a little object, though, in truth, it is one of the most important of your life.  Solidity and delicacy of thought must be given us:  it cannot be acquired, though it may be improved; but elegance