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letter, as you know, that I should rejoice at another sight of you.
Believe me,
Yours affectionately,
T. W. MALKIN.
I beg you humbly to accept of these lines:
When the Spring comes, her warm embrace
Is pleasant to the infants, who are glad
Of her approach, blooming, and softening their cheek
Delightful to be sought in painting, and with joy.
Sweet infancy! But, rather, void of love,
The infant's knowledge is but small:
After some sentiments, not very intelligible, about teaching languages; and after a repetition, in other words, of his former prolusion on the sportive tricks of children, he goes on to personify Excellence, and speaks of her in the following terms:
