of this letter is (laying aside all the authority of the parent), to conjure you as a friend, by the affection you have for me (and surely you have reason to have some), and by the regard you have for yourself, to go on with assiduity and attention, to complete that work, which, of late, you have carried on so well, and which is now so near being finished. My wishes, and my plan, were to make you shine, and distinguish yourself equally in the learned and the polite world. Few have been able to do it. [Sept. 12, 1749.]
The Student of Life and the Trifler: A
Dialogue.—I will suppose you at Rome, studying
six hours uninterruptedly with Mr. Harte, every
morning, and passing your evenings with the best
company of Rome, observing their manners and
forming your own; and I will suppose a number of
idle, sauntering, illiterate English, as there commonly
is there, living entirely with one another,
supping, drinking, and sitting up late at each other's
lodgings; commonly in riots and scrapes when
drunk, and never in good company when sober. I
will take one of these pretty fellows, and give you
the dialogue between him and yourself; such as I
dare say it will be on his side, and such as I hope
it will be on yours.
