Behold me, however, well up in most of the classes.

I have worn my Latin grammar into tatters, and am in the first book of Virgil.

I interlard my conversation at home with easy quotations from that poet, and impress Captain Nutter with a lofty notion of my learning.

I am likewise translating Les Aventures de Telemaque from the French, and shall tackle Blair's Lectures the next term.

I am ashamed of my crude composition about The Horse, and can do better now.