crecy.

I have not mentioned the pleasures of the mind (which are the solid and
permanent ones); because they do not come under the head of what people
commonly call pleasures; which they seem to confine to the senses. The
pleasure of virtue, of charity, and of learning is true and lasting
pleasure; with which I hope you will be well and long acquainted. Adieu!

LETTER VIII

LONDON, April 3, O. S. 1747

DEAR BOY: If I am rightly informed, I am now writing to a fine gentleman,
in a scarlet coat laced with gold, a brocade waistcoat, and all other
suitable ornaments. The natural partiality of every author for his own
works makes me very glad to hear that Mr. Harte has thought this last
edition of mine worth so fine a binding; and, as he has bound it in red,
and gilt it upon the back, I hope he will take care that it shall be
LETTERED too. A showish binding attracts the eyes, and engages the
attention of everybody; but with this difference, that women, and men who
are like women, mind the binding more than the book; whereas men of sense
and learning immediately examine the inside; and if they find that it
does not answer the finery on the outside, they throw it by with the
greater indignation and contempt. I hope that, when this edition of my
works shall be opened and read, the best judges will find connection,
consistency, solidity, and spirit in it. Mr. Harte may 'recensere' and
'emendare,' as much as he pleases; but it will be to little purpose, if
you do not cooperate with him. The work will be imperfect.

I thank you for your last information of our success in the
Mediterranean, and you say very rightly that a secretary of state ought
to be well informed. I hope, therefore, you will take care that I shall.
You are near the busy scene in Italy; and I doubt not but that, by
frequently looking at the map, you have all that theatre of the war very
perfect in your mind.

I like your account of the salt works; which shows that you gave some
attention while you were seeing them. But notwithstanding that, by your
account, the Swiss salt is (I dare say) very good, yet I am apt to
suspect that it falls a little short of the true Attic salt in which
there was a peculiar quickness and delicacy. That same Attic salt
seasoned almost all Greece, except Boeotia, and a great deal of it was
exported afterward to Rome, where it was counterfeited by a composition
called Urbanity, which in some time was brought to very near the