you; which they certainly will not, if you have once

shown them contempt. [Same date.]

The Folly of Contempt.—Wrongs are often given, but contempt never is. Our pride remembers it forever. It implies a discovery of weaknesses, which we are much more careful to conceal than crimes. Many a man will confess his crimes to a common friend, but I never knew a man who would tell his silly weaknesses to his most intimate one. As many a friend will tell us our faults without reserve, who will not so much as hint at our follies; that discovery is too mortifying to our self-love, either to tell another, or to be told of, one's self. You must, therefore, never expect to hear of your weaknesses, or your follies, from anybody but me; those I will take pains to discover, and whenever I do, I shall tell you of them. [Same date.]

Good Nature.—Your school-fellow, Lord Pulteney, set out last week for Holland, and will, I believe, be at Leipsic soon after this letter. You will take care to be extremely civil to him, and to do him any service that you can, while you stay there; let him know that I wrote you to do so. As being older, he should know more than you; in that case, take pains to get up to him; but if he does not, take care not to let him feel his inferiority. He will find it out