attention with
which I am constantly examining how I can best contribute to the
perfection of that character, in which the least spot or blemish would
give me more real concern, than I am now capable of feeling upon any
other account whatsoever.

I have long since done mentioning your great religious and moral duties,
because I could not make your understanding so bad a compliment as to
suppose that you wanted, or could receive, any new instructions upon
those two important points. Mr. Harte, I am sure, has not neglected them;
and, besides, they are so obvious to common sense and reason, that
commentators may (as they often do) perplex, but cannot make them
clearer. My province, therefore, is to supply by my experience your
hitherto inevitable inexperience in the ways of the world. People at your
age are in a state of natural ebriety; and want rails, and 'gardefous',
wherever they go, to hinder them from breaking their necks. This
drunkenness of youth is not only tolerated, but even pleases, if kept
within certain bounds of discretion and decency. These bounds are the
point which it is difficult for the drunken man himself to find out; and
there it is that the experience of a friend may not only serve, but save
him.

Carry with you, and welcome, into company all the gaiety and spirits, but
as little of the giddiness, of youth as you can. The former will charm;
but the latter will often, though innocently, implacably offend. Inform
yourself of the characters and situations of the company, before you give
way to what your imagination may prompt you to say. There are, in all
companies, more wrong beads than right ones, and many more who deserve,
than who like censure. Should you therefore expatiate in the praise of
some virtue, which some in company notoriously want; or declaim against
any vice, which others are notoriously infected with, your reflections,
however general and unapplied, will, by being applicable, be thought
personal and leveled at those people. This consideration points out to
you, sufficiently, not to be suspicious and captious yourself, nor to
suppose that things, because they may be, are therefore meant at you. The
manners of well-bred people secure one from those indirect and mean
attacks; but if, by chance, a flippant woman or a pert coxcomb lets off
anything of that kind, it is much better not to seem to understand, than
to reply to it.

Cautiously avoid talking of either your own or other people'