guide me, and
recollect the various sorts of bad company with which I associated from
time to time, I am astonished I did not turn off with some of them, and
become as worthless to society as they were. I had the good fortune to
become acquainted very early with some characters of very high standing,
and to feel the incessant wish that I could ever become what they were.
Under temptations and difficulties, I would ask myself what would Dr.
Small, Mr. Wythe, Peyton Randolph do in this situation? What course
in it will insure me their approbation? I am certain that this mode
of deciding on my conduct, tended more to its correctness than any
reasoning powers I possessed. Knowing the even and dignified line they
pursued, I could never doubt for a moment which of two courses would
be in character for them. Whereas, seeking the same object through
a process of moral reasoning, and with the jaundiced eye of youth, I
should often have erred. From the circumstances of my position, I
was often thrown into the society of horse-racers, card-players,
fox-hunters, scientific and professional men, and of dignified men; and
many a time have I asked myself, in the enthusiastic moment of the
death of a fox, the victory of a favorite horse, the issue of a question
eloquently argued at the bar, or in the great council of the nation,
well, which of these kinds of reputation should I prefer? That of a
horse-jockey? a fox-hunter? an orator? or the honest advocate of my
country's rights? Be assured, my dear Jefferson, that these little
returns into ourselves, this self-catechizing habit, is not trifling,
nor useless, but leads to the prudent selection and steady pursuit of
what is right.

I have mentioned good humor as one of the preservatives of our peace and
tranquillity. It is among the most effectual, and its effect is so well
imitated and aided, artificially, by politeness, that this also becomes
an acquisition of first-rate value. In truth, politeness is artificial
good humor, it covers the natural want of it, and ends by rendering
habitual a substitute nearly equivalent to the real virtue. It is the
practice of sacrificing to those whom we meet in society, all the little
conveniences and preferences which will gratify them, and deprive us of
nothing worth a moment's consideration; it is the giving a pleasing and
flattering turn to our expressions, which will conciliate others, and
make them pleased with us as well as themselves. How che