in the least affect your election, which is
finally settled with your friend Mr. Eliot. For, let who will prevail, I
presume, he will consider me enough, not to overturn an arrangement of
that sort, in which he cannot possibly be personally interested. So pray
go on with your parliamentary preparations. Have that object always in
your view, and pursue it with attention.

I take it for granted that your late residence in Germany has made you as
perfect and correct in German, as you were before in French, at least it
is worth your while to be so; because it is worth every man's while to be
perfectly master of whatever language he may ever have occasion to speak.
A man is not himself, in a language which he does not thoroughly possess;
his thoughts are degraded, when inelegantly or imperfectly expressed; he
is cramped and confined, and consequently can never appear to advantage.
Examine and analyze those thoughts that strike you the most, either in
conversation or in books; and you will find that they owe at least half
their merit to the turn and expression of them. There is nothing truer
than that old saying, 'Nihil dictum quod non prins dictum'. It is only
the manner of saying or writing it that makes it appear new. Convince
yourself that manner is almost everything, in everything; and study it
accordingly.

I am this moment informed, and I believe truly, that Mr. Fox--[Henry Fox,
created Lord Holland, Baron of Foxley, in the year 1763]--is to succeed
Mr. Pelham as First Commissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor of the
Exchequer; and your friend, Mr. Yorke, of The Hague, to succeed Mr. Fox
as Secretary at War. I am not sorry for this promotion of Mr. Fox, as I
have always been upon civil terms with him, and found him ready to do me
any little services. He is frank and gentleman-like in his manner: and,
to a certain degree, I really believe will be your friend upon my
account; if you can afterward make him yours, upon your own, 'tan mieux'.
I have nothing more to say now but Adieu.

LETTER CXCIX

LONDON, March 15, 1754

MY DEAR FRIEND: We are here in the midst of a second winter; the cold is
more severe, and the snow deeper, than they were in the first. I presume,
your weather in Germany is not much more gentle and, therefore, I hope
that you are quietly and warmly fixed at some good town: and will not
risk a second burial in the snow, after your late fortunate resurrection
out of it. Your letters, I suppose,