changed into bitter disgust.

Clapham May 28, 1813.

My dear Tom,--I am very happy to hear that you have so far
advanced in your different prize exercises, and with such little
fatigue. I know you write with great ease to yourself, and would
rather write ten poems than prune one; but remember that
excellence is not attained at first. All your pieces are much
mended after a little reflection, and therefore take some
solitary walks, and think over each separate thing. Spare no time
or trouble to render each piece as perfect as you can, and then
leave the event without one anxious thought. I have always
admired a saying of one of the old heathen philosophers. When a
friend was condoling with him that he so well deserved of the
gods, and yet that they did not shower their favours on him, as
on some others less worthy, he answered, "I will, however,
continue to deserve well of them." So do you, my dearest. Do
your best because it is the will of God you should improve every
faculty to the utmost now, and strengthen the powers of your mind
by exercise, and then in future you will be better enabled to
glorify God with all your powers and talents, be they of a more
humble, or higher order, and you shall not fail to be received
into everlasting habitations, with the applauding voice of your
Saviour, "Well done, good and faithful servant." You see how
ambitious your mother is. She must have the wisdom of her son
acknowledged before Angels, and an assembled world. My wishes can
soar no higher, and they can be content with nothing less for any
of my children. The first time I saw your face, I repeated those
beautiful lines of Watts' cradle hymn,