think so little worth their care, that they neglect even common civility toward them.  I will frankly confess to you, that this was one of my great faults when I was of your age.  Very attentive to please that narrow court circle in which I stood enchanted, I considered everything else as bourgeois, and unworthy of common civility; I paid my court assiduously and skillfully enough to shining and distinguished figures, such as ministers, wits, and beauties; but then I most absurdly and imprudently neglected, and consequently offended all others.  By this folly I made myself a thousand enemies of both sexes; who, though I thought them very insignificant, found means to hurt me essentially where I wanted to recommend myself the most.  I was thought proud, though I was only imprudent.  A general easy civility and attention to the common run of ugly women, and of middling men, both which I sillily thought, called, and treated, as odd people, would have made me as many friends, as by the contrary conduct I made myself enemies.  All this too was ‘a pure perte’; for I might equally, and even more successfully, have made my court, when I had particular views to gratify.  I will allow that this task is often very unpleasant, and that one pays, with some unwillingness, that tribute of attention to dull and tedious men, and to old and ugly women; but it is the lowest price of popularity and general applause, which are very well worth purchasing were they much dearer.  I conclude this head with this advice to you:  Gain, by particular assiduity and address, the men and women you want; and, by an universal civility and attention, please everybody so far as to have their good word, if not their goodwill; or, at least, as to secure a partial neutrality.

‘Mauvaise honte’ not only hinders young people from making, a great many friends, but makes them a great many enemies.  They are ashamed of doing the thing they know to be right, and would otherwise do, for fear of the momentary laugh of some fine gentleman or lady, or of some ’mauvais plaisant’.  I have been in this case:  and have often wished an obscure acquaintance at the devil, for meeting and taking notice of me when I was in what I thought and called fine company.  I have returned their notice shyly, awkwardly, and consequently offensively; for fear of a momentary joke, not considering, as I ought to have done, that the very people who would have joked upon me at first, would have esteemed me the more for it afterward.  An example explains a rule best:  Suppose you were walking in the Tuileries with some fine folks, and that you should unexpectedly meet your old acquaintance, little crooked Grierson; what would you do?  I will tell you what you should do, by telling you what I would now do in that case myself.  I would run up to him, and embrace him; say some kind of things to him, and then return to my company.  There I should be immediately asked:  ’Mais qu’est ce que c’est donc que ce petit Sapajou que vous