[Fragment.]

_Dec_. 5, 1796.

At length I have done with verse-making,--not that I relish other
people's poetry less: theirs comes from 'em without effort; mine is the
difficult operation of a brain scanty of ideas, made more difficult by
disuse. I have been reading "The Task" with fresh delight. I am glad you
love Cowper. I could forgive a man for not enjoying Milton; but I would
not call that man my friend who should be offended with the "divine
chit-chat of Cowper." Write to me. God love you and yours!

C. L.



X.

TO COLERIDGE,

_Dec_. 10, 1796.

I had put my letter into the post rather hastily, not expecting to have
to acknowledge another from you so soon. This morning's present has made
me alive again. My last night's epistle was childishly querulous: but
you have put a little life into me, and I will thank you for your
remembrance of me, while my sense of it is yet warm; for if I linger a
day or two, I may use the same phrase of acknowledgment, or similar, but
the feeling that dictates it now will be gone; I shall send you a _caput