Had I the admirable ring of Gyges, which rendered the wearer invisible; and had I, at the same time, those magic powers, which were very common formerly, but are now very scarce, of transporting myself, by a wish, to any given place, my first expedition would be to Venice, there to reconnoitre you, unseen myself.  I would first take you in the morning, at breakfast with Mr. Harte, and attend to your natural and unguarded conversation with him; from whence, I think, I could pretty well judge of your natural turn of mind.  How I should rejoice if I overheard you asking him pertinent questions upon useful subjects! or making judicious reflections upon the studies of that morning, or the occurrences of the former day!  Then I would follow you into the different companies of the day, and carefully observe in what manner you presented yourself to, and behaved yourself with, men of sense and dignity; whether your address was respectful, and yet easy; your air modest, and yet unembarrassed; and I would, at the same time, penetrate into their thoughts, in order to know whether your first ‘abord’ made that advantageous impression upon their fancies, which a certain address, air, and manners, never fail doing.  I would afterward follow you to the mixed companies of the evening; such as assemblies, suppers, etc., and there watch if you trifled gracefully and genteelly:  if your good-breeding and politeness made way for your parts and knowledge.  With what pleasure should I hear people cry out, ’Che garbato cavaliere, com’ e pulito, disinvolto, spiritoso’!  If all these things turned out to my mind, I would immediately assume my own shape, become visible, and embrace you:  but if the contrary happened, I would preserve my invisibility, make the best of my way home again, and sink my disappointment upon you and the world.  As, unfortunately, these supernatural powers of genii, fairies, sylphs, and gnomes, have had the fate of the oracles they succeeded, and have ceased for some time, I must content myself (till we meet naturally, and in the common way) with Mr. Harte’s written accounts of you, and the verbal ones which I now and then receive from people who have seen you.  However, I believe it would do you no harm, if you would always imagine that I were present, and saw and heard everything you did and said.

There is a certain concurrence of various little circumstances which compose what the French call ‘l’aimable’; and which, now that you are entering into the world, you ought to make it your particular study to acquire.  Without them, your learning will be pedantry, your conversation often improper, always unpleasant, and your figure, however good in itself, awkward and unengaging.  A diamond, while rough, has indeed its intrinsic value; but, till polished, is of no use, and would neither be sought for nor worn.  Its great lustre, it is true, proceeds from its solidity and strong cohesion of parts; but without the last polish, it would remain