of deciding on my conduct, tended more to its correctness than any reasoning powers I possessed.  Knowing the even and dignified line they pursued, I could never doubt for a moment which of two courses would be in character for them.  Whereas, seeking the same object through a process of moral reasoning, and with the jaundiced eye of youth, I should often have erred.  From the circumstances of my position, I was often thrown into the society of horse-racers, card-players, fox-hunters, scientific and professional men, and of dignified men; and many a time have I asked myself, in the enthusiastic moment of the death of a fox, the victory of a favorite horse, the issue of a question eloquently argued at the bar, or in the great council of the nation, well, which of these kinds of reputation should I prefer?  That of a horse-jockey? a fox-hunter? an orator? or the honest advocate of my country’s rights?  Be assured, my dear Jefferson, that these little returns into ourselves, this self-catechizing habit, is not trifling, nor useless, but leads to the prudent selection and steady pursuit of what is right.

I have mentioned good humor as one of the preservatives of our peace and tranquillity.  It is among the most effectual, and its effect is so well imitated and aided, artificially, by politeness, that this also becomes an acquisition of first-rate value.  In truth, politeness is artificial good humor, it covers the natural want of it, and ends by rendering habitual a substitute nearly equivalent to the real virtue.  It is the practice of sacrificing to those whom we meet in society, all the little conveniences and preferences which will gratify them, and deprive us of nothing worth a moment’s consideration; it is the giving a pleasing and flattering turn to our expressions, which will conciliate others, and make them pleased with us as well as themselves.  How cheap a price for the good will of another!  When this is in return for a rude thing said by another, it brings him to his senses, it mortifies and corrects him in the most salutary way, and places him at the feet of your good nature, in the eyes of the company.  But in stating prudential rules for our government in society I must not omit the important one of never entering into dispute or argument with another.  I never yet saw an instance of one of two disputants convincing the other by argument.  I have seen many, of their getting warm, becoming rude, and shooting one another.  Conviction is the effect of our own dispassionate reasoning, either in solitude, or weighing within ourselves, dispassionately, what we hear from others, standing uncommitted in argument ourselves.  It was one of the rules, which, above all others, made Doctor Franklin the most amiable of men in society, ‘never to contradict any body.’  If he was urged to announce an opinion, he did it rather by asking questions, as if for information, or by suggesting doubts.  When I hear another express an opinion which is not mine, I say to myself, he has