ed my
advice, and had not returned; but as you were positive on that
point, I beg you will now consider the propriety of remaining
incognito, as reports are already abroad, and your sudden return
will cause a great deal of surmise. Your long absence at the
Gottingen University, and your subsequent completion of your grand
tour, will have effaced all remembrance of your person, and you can
easily be passed off as a particular friend of mine, and I can
introduce you everywhere as such. Take, then, any name you may
please, provided it be not Smith or Brown, or such vulgarisms; and
on the receipt of this letter, write a note, and send it to my
house in Portman Square, just saying, '_so and so_ is arrived.'
This will prevent the servants from obtaining any information by
their prying curiosity; and as I have directed all my letters to be
forwarded to my seat in Worcestershire, I shall come up immediately
that I receive it, and by your putting the name which you mean to
assume, I shall know whom to ask for when I call at the hotel.

"Your affectionate Uncle,

"Windermear."

"One thing is very clear, Timothy," said I, laying the letter on the
table, "that it cannot be intended for me."

"How do you know, sir, that this lord is not your uncle? At all events,
you must do as he bids you."

"What--go for the papers! most certainly I shall not."

"Then how in the name of fortune do you expect to find your father, when
you will not take advantage of such an opportunity of getting into
society? It is by getting possession of other people's secrets, that
you will worm out your own."

"But it is dishonest, Timothy."

"A letter is addressed to you, in which you have certain directions; you
break the seal with confidence, and you read what you find is possibly
not for you; but, depend upon it, Japhet, that a secret obtained is one
of the surest roads to promotion. Recollect your position; cut off from
the world, you have to re-unite yourself with it, to recover your
footing, and create an interest. You have not those who love you to help
you--you must not scruple to obtain your object by fear."

"That is a melancholy truth, Tim," replied I; "and I believe I must put
my strict morality in my pocket."

"Do, sir, pray, until you can afford to be moral; it's a very expensive
virtue that; a deficiency of it made you an outcast from the world,