rely seen.

Our letters go, at best, so irregularly and so often miscarry totally,
that, for greater security, I repeat the same things. So, though, I
acknowledged by last post Mr Harte's letter of the 8th September, N.S.,
I acknowledge it again by this to you. If this should find you still at
Verona, let it inform you, that I wish you to set out soon for Naples;
unless Mr. Harte should think it better for you to stay at Verona, or
any other place on this side Rome, till you go there for the Jubilee.
Nay, if he likes it better, I am very willing that you should go
directly from Verona to Rome; for you cannot have too much of Rome,
whether upon account of the language, the curiosities, or the company.
My only reason for mentioning Naples, is for the sake of the climate,
upon account of your health; but, if Mr. Harte thinks your health is now
so well restored as to be above climate, he may steer your course
wherever he thinks proper; and, for aught I know, your going directly to
Rome, and consequently staying there so much the longer, may be as well
as anything else. I think you and I cannot put our affairs into better
hands than in Mr. Harte's; and I will take his infallibility against the
Pope's, with some odds on his side. _A propos_ of the Pope; remember to
be presented to him before you leave Rome, and go through the necessary
ceremonies for it, whether of kissing his slipper or...; for I would
never deprive myself of anything I wanted to do or see, by refusing to
comply with an established custom. When I was in Catholic countries, I
never declined kneeling in their churches at the elevation, nor
elsewhere, when the Host went by. It is a complaisance due to the custom
of the place, and by no means, as some silly people have imagined, an
implied approbation of their doctrine. Bodily attitudes and situations
are things so very indifferent in themselves, that I would quarrel with
nobody about them. It may indeed be improper for Mr. Harte to pay that
tribute of complaisance, upon account of his character.

This letter is a very long, and possibly a very tedious one; but my
interest for your perfection is so great, and particularly at this
critical and decisive period of your life, that I am only afraid of
omitting, but never of repeating, or dwelling too long upon anything
that I think may be of the least use to you. Have the same anxiety for
yourself that I have for you, and all will do well. Adieu, my dear
child!