"P.S.--I beg you to keep the follies of the above letter to yourself. I had a letter from Lord Marischal to-day, who tells me that he is to pass the winter at Edinburgh. Wait often on him; you will like him extremely: carry all our friends to him, and endeavour to make him pass his time as agreeably as possible."[175:1]
We shall have farther opportunities of observing the affectionate anxiety with which Hume watched over the education of his nephews. Adam Ferguson appears to have undertaken the task of noticing the progress of Joseph, the elder nephew, during Hume's absence, to whom he writes, in answer to the above:--
At present his journal, as he tells me, begins with getting up at eight, taking his breakfast and going to school, where he remains to eleven. Then to the High School Yard to play at Englishman and Scotsman, or the hare and the dogs; of which I take the merit, as I saved him from the writing-school at that hour. He returns to school at twelve, and continues till two: goes to writing between three and four; and spends his evenings, as he tells me, in getting his school tasks, or in reading amusing books,--such as his uncle's history. In short, he is a very amiable boy, with quick parts, in my opinion as well as yours; and there is no doubt but he will do well. I am very glad of every thing that gives you pleasure,--even of some things that give you pain. From all accounts, both before and since you went to Paris, it might be foreseen that your reception, even from sincere as well as affected admirers, would amount to a degree of teasing. But all for the best, as my fellow philosopher, Pangloss, says. I don't care if you are "chassé de France à coups de complimens, et accablé en Angleterre à coups de richesse," so as not to find any rest to the soles of your feet out of Scotland. I would fain consider every accession to your fortune as so many dishes added to the future dinners in James's Court; and your eclat in France, as the forerunner of much variety of chosen and excellent wines from every quarter of that great kingdom. Meantime, though I like to lounge at firesides in practice, I have not, in speculation, that opinion you mention. I know nothing that is necessary to happiness but cordiality and the talent of finding diversion in all places. I remember, somewhere, a man's being told that he was too nice, because he could not dine on a ragout, and must have cold mutton. But I should not, perhaps, contradict you so flatly, nor rub so hard, considering how tender your sensibility will be grown after so many lenient applications.[176:1]