On December 28, 1810, he writes:  “I shall leave Mr. Mallory’s next week and study painting exclusively till summer.”

He had at last burst his bonds, and his wise parents, seeing that his heart was only in his painting, decided to throw no further obstacles in his way, but, at the cost of much self-sacrifice on their part, to further in every way his ambition.

January 15, 1811.

MY DEAR BROTHERS,—­We have just received Richard’s letter of the 8th inst., and I can have a pretty correct idea of your feelings at the beginning of a vacation.  You must not be melancholy and hang yourself.  If you do you will have a terrible scolding when you get home again.  As for Richard’s getting an appointment so low, if I was in his situation, I should not trouble myself one fig concerning appointments.  They cost more than they are worth.  I shall not esteem him the less for not getting a higher, and not more than one millionth part of the world knows what an appointment is.  You will both of you have a different opinion of appointments after you have been out of college a short time.  I had rather be Richard with a dialogue than Sanford with a dispute.  If appointments at college decided your fate forever, you might possibly groan and wail.  But then consider where poor I should come. [He got no appointment whatever.] Think of this, Richard, and don’t hang yourself. [It may, perhaps, be well to explain that “appointments” were given at Yale to those who excelled in scholarship.  “Philosophical Oration” was the highest, then came “High Oration,” “Oration,” etc., etc.] I have left Mr. Mallory’s store and am helping papa in the Geography.  Shall remain at home till the latter part of next summer and then shall go to London with Mr. Allston.

The following extracts from two letters of a college friend I have introduced as throwing some light on Morse’s character at that time and also as curious examples of the epistolary style of those days:—­

NEW HAVEN, February 5, 1811.

Dear Finley,—­Yours of the 6th ult.  I received, together with the books enclosed, which I delivered personally according to your request.

Did I not know the nature of your disorder and the state of your gizzard, I should really be surprised at the commencement, and, indeed, the whole tenor of your letter, but as it is I can excuse and feel for you.

Had I commenced a letter with the French Helas! helas! it would have been no more than might reasonably have been expected considering the desolate situation of New Haven and the gloomy prospects before me.  But for you, who are in the very vortex of fashionable life and surrounded by the amusements and bustle of the metropolis of New England, for you to exclaim, “How lonely I am!” is unpardonable, or at most admits of but one excuse, to wit, that you can plead the feelings of the youth who exclaimed, “Gods annihilate both time and space and make two lovers happy!”