laugh the better at the silly wonder and wild conjectures of the uninformed spectators.  This accident, I think, cannot in the least affect your election, which is finally settled with your friend Mr. Eliot.  For, let who will prevail, I presume, he will consider me enough, not to overturn an arrangement of that sort, in which he cannot possibly be personally interested.  So pray go on with your parliamentary preparations.  Have that object always in your view, and pursue it with attention.

I take it for granted that your late residence in Germany has made you as perfect and correct in German, as you were before in French, at least it is worth your while to be so; because it is worth every man’s while to be perfectly master of whatever language he may ever have occasion to speak.  A man is not himself, in a language which he does not thoroughly possess; his thoughts are degraded, when inelegantly or imperfectly expressed; he is cramped and confined, and consequently can never appear to advantage.  Examine and analyze those thoughts that strike you the most, either in conversation or in books; and you will find that they owe at least half their merit to the turn and expression of them.  There is nothing truer than that old saying, ‘Nihil dictum quod non prins dictum’.  It is only the manner of saying or writing it that makes it appear new.  Convince yourself that manner is almost everything, in everything; and study it accordingly.

I am this moment informed, and I believe truly, that Mr. Fox—­[Henry Fox, created Lord Holland, Baron of Foxley, in the year 1763]—­is to succeed Mr. Pelham as First Commissioner of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer; and your friend, Mr. Yorke, of The Hague, to succeed Mr. Fox as Secretary at War.  I am not sorry for this promotion of Mr. Fox, as I have always been upon civil terms with him, and found him ready to do me any little services.  He is frank and gentleman-like in his manner:  and, to a certain degree, I really believe will be your friend upon my account; if you can afterward make him yours, upon your own, ‘tan mieux’.  I have nothing more to say now but Adieu.

LETTER CXCIX

London, March 15, 1754

My dear friend:  We are here in the midst of a second winter; the cold is more severe, and the snow deeper, than they were in the first.  I presume, your weather in Germany is not much more gentle and, therefore, I hope that you are quietly and warmly fixed at some good town:  and will not risk a second burial in the snow, after your late fortunate resurrection out of it.  Your letters, I suppose, have not been able to make their way through the ice; for I have received none from you since that of the 12th of February, from Ratisbon.  I am the more uneasy at this state of ignorance, because I fear that you may have found some subsequent inconveniences from your overturn, which you might not be aware of at first.