TO LADY HESKETH.
The Lodge, May 18, 1791.
My dearest Coz,—Has another of my letters fallen short of its destination; or wherefore is it, that thou writest not? One letter in five weeks is a poor allowance for your friends at Weston. One, that I received two or three days since from Mrs. Frog, has not at all enlightened me on this head. But I wander in a wilderness of vain conjecture.
I have had a letter lately from New York, from a Dr. Cogswell of that place, to thank me for my fine verses, and to tell me, which pleased me particularly, that, after having read "The Task," my first volume fell into his hands, which he read also, and was equally pleased with. This is the only instance I can recollect of a reader doing justice to my first effusions: for I am sure, that in point of expression they do not fall a jot below my second, and that in point of subject they are for the most part superior. But enough, and too much of this. "The Task" he tells me has been reprinted in that city.
Adieu! my dearest coz.
We have blooming scenes under wintry skies, and with icy blasts to fan them.
Ever thine,
W. C.