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It is wonderful! When my heart feels the most warmly, and my emotions are the noblest, it is as if my hands and my tongue were tied; I cannot describe, I cannot express my own inward state; and yet I am a painter; my eye tells me so; and every one who has seen my sketches and my tablets acknowledges it.
I am a poor youth; I live over there in one of the narrowest streets, but I have no want of light, because I live up aloft, with a view over all the house-tops. The first day I came into the city it seemed to me so confined and lonesome; instead of the woods and the
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