r
assert boldly that you know 'de science certaine', that the principal
object of his Majesty's and his British Ministry's intention is not only
to perform all their present engagements with his Master, but to take new
and stronger ones for his support; for this is true--AT LEAST AT PRESENT.

You did very well in inviting Comte Bothmar to dine with you. You see how
minutely I am informed of your proceedings, though not from yourself.
Adieu.

I go to Bath next Saturday; but direct your letters, as usual, to London.

LETTER CCXI

BATH, October 26, 1757.

MY DEAR FRIEND: I arrived here safe, but far from sound, last Sunday. I
have consequently drunk these waters but three days, and yet I find
myself something better for them. The night before I left London. I was
for some hours at Newcastle House, where the letters, which came that
morning, lay upon the table: and his Grace singled out yours with great
approbation, and, at the same time, assured me of his Majesty's
approbation, too. To these two approbations I truly add my own, which,
'sans vanite', may perhaps be near as good as the other two. In that
letter you venture 'vos petits raisonnemens' very properly, and then as
properly make an excuse for doing so. Go on so, with diligence, and you
will be, what I began to despair of your ever being, SOMEBODY. I am
persuaded, if you would own the truth, that you feel yourself now much
better satisfied with yourself than you were while you did nothing.

Application to business, attended with approbation and success, flatters
and animates the mind: which, in idleness and inaction, stagnates and
putrefies. I could wish that every rational man would, every night when
he goes to bed, ask himself this question, What have I done to-day? Have
I done anything that can be of use to myself or others? Have I employed
my time, or have I squandered it? Have I lived out the day, or have I
dozed it away in sloth and laziness? A thinking being must be pleased or
confounded, according as he can answer himself these questions. I observe
that you are in the secret of what is intended, and what Munchausen is
gone to Stade to prepare; a bold and dangerous experiment in my mind, and
which may probably end in a second volume to the "History of the
Palatinate," in the last century. His Serene Highness of Brunswick has,
in my mind, played a prudent and saving game; and I am apt to believe
that the other Serene Highness, at Hamburg, is more l