y set out wise, return wiser.
I would advise you always to get the shortest description or history of
every place where you make any stay; and such a book, however imperfect,
will still suggest to you matter for inquiry; upon which you may get
better informations from the people of the place. For example; while you
are at Leipsig, get some short account (and to be sure there are many
such) of the present state of the town, with regard to its magistrates,
its police, its privileges, etc., and then inform yourself more minutely
upon all those heads in, conversation with the most intelligent people.
Do the same thing afterward with regard to the Electorate of Saxony: you
will find a short history of it in Puffendorf's Introduction, which will
give you a general idea of it, and point out to you the proper objects of
a more minute inquiry. In short, be curious, attentive, inquisitive, as
to everything; listlessness and indolence are always blameable, but, at
your age, they are unpardonable. Consider how precious, and how important
for all the rest of your life, are your moments for these next three or
four years; and do not lose one of them. Do not think I mean that you
should study all day long; I am far from advising or desiring it: but I
desire that you would be doing something or other all day long; and not
neglect half hours and quarters of hours, which, at the year's end,
amount to a great sum. For instance, there are many short intervals
during the day, between studies and pleasures: instead of sitting idle
and yawning, in those intervals, take up any book, though ever so
trifling a one, even down to a jest-book; it is still better than doing
nothing.
Nor do I call pleasures idleness, or time lost, provided they are the
pleasures of a rational being; on the contrary, a certain portion of your
time, employed in those pleasures, is very usefully employed. Such are
public spectacles, assemblies of good company, cheerful suppers, and even
balls; but then, these require attention, or else your time is quite
lost.
There are a great many people, who think themselves employed all day, and
who, if they were to cast up their accounts at night, would find that
they had done just nothing. They have read two or three hours
mechanically, without attending to what they read, and consequently
without either retaining it, or reasoning upon it. From thence they
saunter into company, without taking any part in it, and without
obse
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