“Men change with fortune, manners change with climes;
“Tenets with books, and principles with times.”
Your friendly letter convinced me that you are still the same—and gave in that conviction a ten-fold pleasure:—you carried out (through God’s grace) an honest friendly heart, a clear discerning head, and a soul impressed with every humane feeling.—That you are still the same—I repeat it—gives me more joy—than the certainty would of your being worth ten Jaghires:—I dare say you will ever remember that the truest worth is that of the mind—the best rectitude of the heart—the conscience unsullied with guilt—the undaunted noble eye, enriched with innocence, and shining with social glee—peace dancing in the heart—and health smiling in the face—May these be ever thy companions!—and for riches you will ever be more than vulgarly rich—while you thankfully enjoy—and gratefully assist the wants (as far as you are able) of your fellow-creatures. But I think (and so will you) that I am preaching. I only meant in truth to thank you, which I most sincerely do, for your kind letter:—believe me, it gratifies a better principle than vanity—to know that you remember your dark-faced friend at such a distance. But what would have been your feelings—could you have beheld your worthy, thrice worthy father—joy sitting triumphant in his honest face—speeding from house to house, amongst his numerous friends, with the pleasing testimonials of his son’s love and duty in his hands—every one congratulating him, and joining in good wishes—while the starting tear plainly proved that over-joy and grief give the same livery?
You met with an old acquaintance of mine, Mr. G——. I am glad to hear he is well; but, when I knew him, he was young, and not so wise as knowing: I hope he will take example by what he sees in you—and you, young man, remember, if you should unhappily fall into bad company, that example is only the fool’s plea, and the rogue’s excuse, for doing wrong things:—you have a turn for reflection, and a steadiness, which, aided by the best of social dispositions, must make your company much coveted, and your person loved.—Forgive me for presuming to dictate, when I well know you have many friends much more able, from knowledge and better sense—though I deny—a better will.
You will of course make Men and Things your study—their different genius, aims, and passions:—you will also note climes, buildings, soils, and products, which will be neither tedious nor unpleasant. If you adopt the rule of writing every evening your remarks on the past day, it will be a kind of friendly tête-a tête between you and yourself, wherein you may sometimes happily become your own Monitor;—and hereafter those little notes will afford you a rich fund, whenever you shall be inclined to re-trace past times and places.——I say nothing upon the score of Religion—for, I am clear, every good affection, every sweet sensibility, every heart-felt joy—humanity, politeness, charity—all, all, are streams from that sacred spring;—so that to say you are good-tempered, honest, social, &c. &c. is only in fact saying, you live according to your Divine Master’s rules, and are a Christian.
Your B—— friends are all well, excepting the good Mrs. C——, who is at this time but so, so. Miss C—— still as agreeable as when you knew her, if not more so. Mr. R——, as usual, never so happy, never so gay, nor so much in true pleasure, as when he is doing good—he enjoys the hope of your well-doing as much as any of your family. His brother John has been lucky—his abilities, address, good nature, and good sense, have got him a surgeoncy in the batalion of guards, which is reckoned a very good thing.
As to news, what we have is so incumbered with falshoods, I think it, as Bobadil says, “a service of danger” to meddle with: this I know for truth, that the late great Dagon of the people has totally lost all his worshipers, and walks the streets as unregarded as Ignatius Sancho, and I believe almost as poor—such is the stability of popular greatness:
“One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
“Of idle starers, or of loud huzza’s,” &c.
Your brother and sister C—d sometimes look in upon us; her boys are fine, well, and thriving; and my honest cousin Joe increases in sense and stature; he promises to be as good as clever. He brought me your first letter, which, though first wrote, had the fate to come last; the little man came from Red-Lion Court to Charles Street by himself, and seemed the taller for what he had done; he is indeed a sweet boy, but I fear every body will be telling him so. I know the folly of so doing, and yet am as guilty as any one.