When you see a man whose first ‘abord’ strikes you, prepossesses you in his favor, and makes you entertain a good opinion of him, you do not know why, analyze that ‘abord’, and examine, within yourself, the several parts that composed it; and you will generally find it to be the result, the happy assemblage of modesty unembarrassed, respect without timidity, a genteel, but unaffected attitude of body and limbs, an open, cheerful, but unsmirking countenance, and a dress, by no means negligent, and yet not foppish.  Copy him, then, not servilely, but as some of the greatest masters of painting have copied others; insomuch that their copies have been equal to the originals, both as to beauty and freedom.  When you see a man who is universally allowed to shine as an agreeable, well-bred man, and a fine gentleman (as, for example, the Duke de Nivernois), attend to him, watch him carefully; observe in what manner he addresses himself to his superiors, how he lives with his equals, and how he treats his inferiors.  Mind his turn of conversation in the several situations of morning visits, the table, and the evening amusements.  Imitate, without mimicking him; and be his duplicate, but not his ape.  You will find that he takes care never to say or do any thing that can be construed into a slight, or a negligence; or that can, in any degree, mortify people’s vanity and self-love; on the contrary, you will perceive that he makes people pleased with him, by making them first pleased with themselves:  he shows respect, regard, esteem and attention, where they are severally proper:  he sows them with care, and he reaps them in plenty.

These amiable accomplishments are all to be acquired by use and imitation; for we are, in truth, more than half what we are by imitation.  The great point is, to choose good models and to study them with care.  People insensibly contract, not only the air, the manners, and the vices, of those with whom they commonly converse, but their virtues too, and even their way of thinking.  This is so true, that I have known very plain understandings catch a certain degree of wit, by constantly conversing with those who had a great deal.  Persist, therefore, in keeping the best company, and you will insensibly become like them; but if you add attention and observation, you will very soon become one of them.  The inevitable contagion of company shows you the necessity of keeping the best, and avoiding all other; for in everyone, something will stick.  You have hitherto, I confess, had very few opportunities of keeping polite company.  Westminster school is, undoubtedly, the seat of illiberal manners and brutal behavior.  Leipsig, I suppose, is not the seat of refined and elegant manners.  Venice, I believe, has done something; Rome, I hope, will do a great deal more; and Paris will, I dare say, do all that you want; always supposing that you frequent the best companies, and in the intention of improving and forming yourself; for without that intention nothing will do.