For he is rather thin, and I feel sometimes affronted because he does not credit his keeping. I tell him I will let him go by measure, and not by weight. You would be surprized to see how Thomas has grown, since you left us he is almost as tall as Charles, but I must speak intelligibly, wants about a head of being as tall as your eldest Son. I hope he will not learn to do Evil, but still be preserved in the Path of Virtue. If Mr Thomas’s Abilities should entittle him to speak an Oration four years hence, I know his voice cannot be so pleasing, neither will he be able to command the attention of the audience so well, as if he was older. She “must be wooed, and not unsought, be won.” 5 What Milton says of a delicate, virtuous Woman, may be appliyed to Leterature. Youth seldom know the advantages they are under, or (if they really wish to make a Figure in Life,) the great importance of the most diligent application, and the closest attention to their studies. The fairest, and soundest Fruit seldom ripens the soonest, but requires Time to bring it to Perfection. He has a good genius, and an excellent Temper, but not one of those forward Youths, whose genious very early comes to maturity. At this age, one year, makes a very material alteration in the Judgment. But if he was my own Child I should rather he should be a year older. It is at last concluded upon by Dr Tufts, Mr Cranch &cc, that Mr Shaw should offer Thomas at the end of this Vacation. By affecting a superiority, he gained the dislike of the Governors, and the contempt of the whole Colledge. had made the Tour, 4 and gave us so much trouble. We were affraid of him (said he) because S-C-J. By his studious, and affable Behaviour, he had gained the love of all his Classmates. Mr Professor Williams told me, that my eldest Nephew had exactly hit it, (that was his expression) with the Scholars. Mr Shaw, and I, would have been quite disconsolate if they had not come. My worthy Nephews got here last Night, we do love them. You know our early Intimacy, and cannot wonder that I most tenderly sympathize with him, under his late Bereavment. He has a fine Temper, and I believe a very good Heart. But poor Man, is deprived of what he supposed would afford him, the greatest pleasure, the frequent Visits of his Mother. Mr Smith has lately fixed down at the Castle, and will have an handsome maintenance there. Mr Smith got here last Night, and makes an exchange with Mr Shaw. “Dust we are, and unto Dust we must return,” but he who has brought Life, and immortality to light, has assured us, by the Apostle, “that this Mortal, shall put on Immortality.” And, that unless a “Corn of Wheat fall into the ground, and die, it cannot bring forth much Fruit.” 2 But “thus runs Death’s dread Commission-Strike-but so as most to alarm the living, by the Dead.” 1 The Young, the Gay, the healthy, the beautiful, the rich, the wise, the good, the beloved- all, all alike must submit to the inevitable Stroke. For deaf were those Ears that with delight would have listened to thy Call-closed were those Eyes, that with pleasure would have dwelt upon thy growing Charms, and cold were those Arms that with delight would have folded thee, to her maternal Breast. At one fatal stroke the fair Prospects of a Family are cut down, and the weeping Husband stands but half blest-beholding the little help less Infant, extending its feeble Arms, and crying for that, (which alas!) Providence had thought fit to deny. There is hardly any Circumstance in which a Person can be taken from their Family, that excites my Pity, and Compassion more than this. I hear they have got an exceeding good Nurse for it. She has a fine Daughter, though she did not notice it, nor live to clasp the dear Babe to her fond Bosom. Upon finding herself ill, they sent for Dr Barker, but before he got there, she was seized with Convulsion Fits, from which she never reccovered. I was going to tell you that Mr Thaxter had lost his youngest Sister, Mrs Cushing, who had been married about 15 months died in Child-bed. Mr Sparhawk called for my Letter Just as I was giving you an account of my Aunt Smith’s Death.
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