It is now about seven years since I promised (and I grieve to think it is
almost as long since we met) to dedicate to you the very first Book, of
whatever size or kind I should publish. Who could have thought that so
many years would elapse, without my giving the least signs of life upon
the subject of this important promise? Who could have imagined that a
volume of doggerel, after all, would be the first offering that Gratitude
would lay upon the shrine of Friendship?
If you continue, however, to be as much interested about me and my
pursuits as formerly, you will be happy to hear that doggerel is not my
_only_ occupation; but that I am preparing to throw my name to the Swans
of the Temple of Immortality, leaving it of course to the said Swans to
determine whether they ever will take the trouble of picking it from the
stream.
In the meantime, my dear Woolriche, like an orthodox Lutheran, you must
judge of me rather by my _faith_ than my _works_; and however trifling the
tribute which I here offer, never doubt the fidelity with which I am and
always shall be
Your sincere and attached friend,