hat you would think of a man, who had been
any time in the world, and yet should be so awkward. For God's sake,
therefore, now think of nothing but shining, and even distinguishing
yourself in the most polite courts, by your air, your address, your
manners, your politeness, your 'douceur', your graces. With those
advantages (and not without them) take my word for it, you will get the
better of all rivals, in business as well as in 'ruelles'. Adieu. Send me
your patterns, by the next post, and also your instructions to Grevenkop
about the seal, which you seem to have forgotten.

LETTER CXLIII

LONDON, May 16, O. S. 1751.

MY DEAR FRIEND: In about three months from this day, we shall probably
meet. I look upon that moment as a young woman does upon her bridal
night; I expect the greatest pleasure, and yet cannot help fearing some
little mixture of pain. My reason bids me doubt a little, of what my
imagination makes me expect. In some articles I am very sure that my most
sanguine wishes will not be disappointed; and those are the most material
ones. In others, I fear something or other, which I can better feel than
describe. However, I will attempt it. I fear the want of that amiable and
engaging 'je ne sais quoi', which as some philosophers have,
unintelligibly enough, said of the soul, is all in all, and all in every
part; it should shed its influence over every word and action. I fear the
want of that air, and first 'abord', which suddenly lays hold of the
heart, one does not know distinctly how or why. I fear an inaccuracy, or,
at least, inelegance of diction, which will wrong, and lower, the best
and justest matter. And, lastly, I fear an ungraceful, if not an
unpleasant utterance, which would disgrace and vilify the whole. Should
these fears be at present founded, yet the objects of them are (thank
God) of such a nature, that you may, if you please, between this and our
meeting, remove everyone of them. All these engaging and endearing
accomplishments are mechanical, and to be acquired by care and
observation, as easily as turning, or any mechanical trade. A common
country fellow, taken from the plow, and enlisted in an old corps, soon
lays aside his shambling gait, his slouching air, his clumsy and awkward
motions: and acquires the martial air, the regular motions, and whole
exercise of the corps, and particularly of his right and left hand man.
How so? Not from his parts; which were just the same before as