Hanover Jany 9th, 1801
Come, Friend Bradley, lay by your volumes of statutes and reports for a moment and condescend to admit College into your thoughts. Yourself were once a Dartmouthensium resident with us, tho the recollection of it may now be buried beneath the accumulated masses of legal maxims and the commonplaces of buysiness. It is true that the affairs occurrent at College little affect a gentleman graduate, but we lads, you know, somewhat assuming and as we sometimes peer a little into the region before us, we behold those who studying professionf much oftener than they discern us. Where two persons are walking up a hill (O, a nice improvison!) the one who precedes can hardly escape the gaze of the other, though he should not design a look at him. Thus you perceive, I have hammered out a reason on the anvil of my logic, for disturning your highness by obtruding upon your attention.
A scrawl, long as a German's and as dull, and senseless of the pages of his scull - Hah! what a genius! I can state my prepositions in prose, and then amplify, and embellish with poetry - hold, I shall next get upon Miltonic numbers and soar as high as any shrub, or higher.
"Dark and desolate are the hills of Cromla, when her warriors are tossed in the blue wave of Erin" - equally desolate and dreary are the regions of Hanover, when the sons of Dartmouth, "those pretty little prattling curs" are dispersed to the four winds. It is now vacation. You have read the Catle-tales of romance - apply them to our old dorm and fiction becomes reality. I have thought therefore that Hanover would be equally pleasant, winter and Summer, if the students we [prevent to assimote it.] But now I recant from that opinion, and for this reason. What houses there are here are painted white, if painted at all, and uniting with the appearance of things without, make  uniform a prospect. This may seem whimisical; but for my part, I would rather be exposed to the blackness of darkness, than to the lightness of whiteness. I cannot conceive a more gloomy picture of nature, than that she should be invariably white. My summer house (if ever I have one,) shall be white; because being mixed with vegetable green, white is pleasing - my winter habitation should be (could I do as I should please) of such a color as should mix with and mollify the intense reflections from snow.
Shall I send any news to Concord? Shall I carry coal to New Castle? Shall I leave off when I must for lack of parchment?