MY DEAR PARENTS,--I write in much haste, but it is to inform you of a most glorious event, no less than the capture of Paris, by the Allies. They entered it last Thursday, and you may conceive the sensations of the people of England on the occasion. As the cartel is the first vessel which will arrive in America to carry the news, I hope I shall have the great satisfaction of hearing that I am the first who shall inform you of this great event; the particulars you will see nearly as soon as this. I congratulate you and the rest of the good people of the world on the occasion. _Despotism_ and _Usurpation_ are fallen, never, I hope, to rise again. But what gives me the greatest pleasure in the contemplation of this occurrence is the spirit of religion and, consequently, of humanity which has constantly marked the conduct of the Allies. Their moderation through all their unparallelled successes cannot be too much extolled; they merit the grateful remembrance of posterity, who will bless them as the restorers of a blessing but little enjoyed by the greater part of mankind for centuries. I mean the inestimable blessing of _Peace_. But I must cut short my feelings on the subject; were I to give them scope they would fill quires; they are as ardent as yours possibly can be. Suffice it to say that I see the hand of Providence so strongly in it that I think an infidel must be converted by it, and I hope I feel as a Christian should on such an occasion. I am well, in excellent spirits and shall use my utmost endeavors to support myself, for now more than ever is it necessary for me to stay in Europe. Peace is inevitable, and the easy access to the Continent and the fine works of art there render it doubly important that I should improve them to my utmost. I cannot ask more of my parents than they have done for me, but the struggle will be hard for me to get along and improve myself at the same time. Portraits are the only things which can support me at present, but it is insipid, indeed, for one who wishes to be at the head of the first branch of the art, to be stopped halfway, and be obliged to struggle with the difficulty of maintaining himself, in addition to the other difficulties attendant on the profession. But it is impossible to place this in a clear light in a letter. I wish I could talk with you on the subject, and I could in a short time make it clear to you. I cannot ask it of you and I do not till I try what I can do. You have already done more than I deserved and it would be ingratitude in me to request more of you, and I do not; only I say these things that you may not expect so much from me in the way of improvement as you may have been led to suppose. Morse seems to have made an excursion into dramatic literature at about this time, as the following draft of a letter, without date, but evidently written to the celebrated actor Charles Mathews, will testify:--