In the garden one may in fancy see again the little boy, like all poetic children, "deep in his unknown day's employ." Indeed, like all children, might be said, for is not every child a poet for a little while?
In the _Life of Shelley_ by his cousin Thomas Medwin is printed the following letter to a friend at Horsham, written when he was nine, which I quote not for any particular intrinsic merit, but because it helps to bring him before us in his Field Place days, of which too little is known:-- "_Monday, July 18, 1803._ "MISS KATE, "HORSHAM, "SUSSEX.
"DEAR KATE,--We have proposed a day at the pond next Wednesday, and if you will come to-morrow morning I would be much obliged to you, and if you could any how bring Tom over to stay all the night, I would thank you.

We are to have a cold dinner over at the pond, and come home to eat a bit of roast chicken and peas at about nine o'clock.

Mama depends upon your bringing Tom over to-morrow, and if you don't we shall be very much disappointed.

Tell the bearer not to forget to bring me a fairing, which is some ginger-bread, sweetmeat, hunting-nuts, and a pocket-book.

Now I end.
"I am not "Your obedient servant, "P.