This appears to have been considered by his correspondent as not sufficiently explicit; accordingly, about a month afterwards, we find Cowper writing decidedly as follows:

"DEAR. SEPHUS,-**** I do recollect that I myself am a little guilty of what I blame so much in Mr E- .: in the last letter I wrote you, having returned you so facetious an answer to your serious inquiry concerning the entertainment to be given or not to be given, to the gentlemen of New Inn, that you must needs have been at a loss to collect from it my real intentions. My sincere desire, however, in this respect, is, that they may fast; and being supported in this resolution not only by an assurance that I can, and therefore ought, to make a better use of my money, but also by the examples of my predecessors in the same business, I have no longer any doubt concerning the propriety of condemning them to abstinence upon this occasion; and cannot but wish that point may be carried, if it can be done without engaging you in the trouble of any disagreeable haggling and higgling, and twisting and wriggling, to save my money."

Such, then, were the scanty means, but determined resolutions, with which Cowper now proposed to maintain himself in retirement from the real business, and the fancied impurities, of active life. After four months' residence in Huntingdon, beginning to feel his solitude irksome, he commenced a connection destined to exercise an important control over the events and happiness of his future life, the origin of which we therefore give in his own words: "One day, towards the expiration of this period, I found myself in a state of desertion. The communion which I had so long been able to maintain with the Lord was suddenly interrupted. I began to dislike my solitary situation, and to fear I should never be able to weather out the winter in so lonely a dwelling. A thought occurred, which I shall not fear to call a suggestion of the same good Providence which brought me to Huntingdon. A few months before, I had formed an acquaintance with the Reverend Mr Unwin's family. His son, though he had heard that I rather declined society than sought it, and though Mrs Unwin herself

dissuaded him from writing me on that account, was yet so strongly induced to it, that, notwithstanding all objections and arguments to the contrary, he one day engaged himself, as we were coming out of church after morning prayers, to drink tea with me that afternoon. To my inexpressible joy I found him one whose notions of religion were spiritual and lively-whom the Lord had been training up from his infancy for the service of the temple, and we opened our hearts to each other at the first interview. The Sunday following I dined with him. That afternoon, while the rest of the family was withdrawn, I had much intercourse with Mrs Unwin, and found we had one faith. It was long before I thought of any other connection with this family than as a friend and neighbour. On the day, however, above mentioned, while I was revolving in my mind the nature of my situation, and beginning, for the first time, to find an irksomeness in such retirement, suddenly it occurred to me, that I might probably find a place in Mr Unwin's family as a boarder. A young gentleman, who had lived with him as a pupil, was the day before gone to Cambridge. It appeared, to me at least, possible that I might be allowed to succeed him. I immediately began to negociate the affair, and in a few days it was entirely concluded. I took possession of my new abode, November 11, 1765, and have found it a place of rest."*

The family, of which Cowper may be said to have thus become a member, consisted, at this period, of Mr and Mrs Unwin, their son, then a student at Cambridge, afterwards rector of Stock, in Essex, and a daughter, subsequently married to the Reverend Mr Powley of Yorkshire. The Reverend Morley Unwin appears to have united mild unobtrusive dispositions with much piety and considerable learning. He was now well stricken in years; and, after having passed a laborious life, first as master of the Free School of Huntingdon, and next as lecturer in both of the parish churches, had obtained from his college the vicarage "While he waited in expectation of this

of Grimston.

* Narrative.

preferment," says Hayley," he had attached himself to a young lady of lively talents, and remarkably fond of reading." Miss Cawthorne, the lady in question, was the daughter of a respectable linen-draper in Ely, and on becoming Mrs Unwin, settled with her husband at his vicarage. Disliking, however, either the situation or seclusion of this abode, she prevailed on Mr Unwin to become a non-resident, and to remove to a house in Huntingdon, in which, being large and commodious, he continued as formerly to receive private pupils. At the date of Cowper's introduction to her acquaintance, Mrs Unwin was in her forty-first year, consequently only six years older than himself, and, if we may judge from her picture, painted fifteen years before, still possessed of considerable personal attractions.* From their first meeting, Cowper appears to have admitted a very pleasing impression of her conversational powers. "I had much discourse," says he, speaking of their first interview, "with Mrs Unwin, but am not at liberty to describe the pleasure I had in conversing with her, because she will be one of the first who will have the perusal of this narrative." Again, writing to his friend Mr Hill, "I have entered into an agreement with the Rev. Mr Unwin to lodge and board with him. The family are the most agreeable in the world. They live in a special good house, and in a very genteel way. I would wish them to be, and I know I shall be as happy with them as I can be on this side of the sun." "Now I know them," writes he to the same correspondent, some time afterwards, "I wonder that I liked Huntingdon so well before I knew them, and am apt to think I should find every place disagreeable which had not an Unwin to recommend it." Similar testimonies occur throughout the Letters, where the reader will find them in their proper place, proving that each revolving year enhanced the tenderness of this friendship. It is remarked by Lady Hesketh, also, in one of her letters to

They are all exactly what

*The portrait given with the present edition of Cowper's Works, is from this painting, a work of Davis-an artist who was born, we believe, in Devonshire, and enjoyed a provincial reputation for the fidelity of his likenesses.

her sister, as a very singular circumstance, often mentioned by the poet himself, that, though naturally most averse from forming new acquaintances, and always shy and distressed in the company of strangers, he found himself from the first perfectly at ease with the Unwins.*

The " way of life" upon which he now entered, he has thus described," We breakfast commonly between eight and nine- till eleven we read either the Scriptures, or the sermons of some faithful preacher of those holy mysteries

at eleven we attend divine service, which is performed here twice every day—and from twelve to three we separate, and amuse ourselves as we please. During that interval, I either read in my own apartment, or walk, or ride, or work in the garden. We seldom sit an hour after dinner, but, if the weather permits, adjourn to the garden, where, with Mrs Unwin and her son, I have generally the pleasure of religious conversation till tea time. If it rains, or is too windy for walking, we either converse within doors, or sing some hymns of Martin's Collection; and, by the help of Mrs Unwin's harpsichord, make up a tolerable concert, in which our hearts, I hope, are the best and most musical performers. After tea, we sally forth to walk in good earnest. Mrs Unwin is a good walker, and we have generally travelled about four miles before we see home again. When the days are short, we make this excursion in the former part of the day, between church time and dinner. At night we read and converse as before till supper, and commonly finish the evening either with hymns or a sermon ; and, last of all, the family are called to prayers."

Much remark-groundless, we think, in general, and at best unnecessary-has been made on this portion of the life of Cowper. It has been asked, with a sneer, What if all the world were to act in the manner recommended by the example of Cowper and his friends? And is this to be considered as conclusive against them? As society is now constituted, the

* Extracts by Croft.

+ Collection of Hymns by the Reverend Martin Madan, his cousin, whom he thus mentions familiarly, because writing to another relation.

question is devoid of applicable meaning. But what has this to do with those whose duties permit them to follow the dictates of the heart, by devoting the larger portion of their time on earth, to the same exercises of prayer and praise which will ocupy their immortality in heaven? Besides, the question has been put disingenuously, as if such a life were in opposition to the necessity and vital importance of a religious practice. Again, it has been asserted, that such a manner of living was calculated rather to nourish than dispel the gloom of Cowper's temperament. An observation of this kind merely proves, that those by whom it is made or adopted, associate melancholy and restraint with a life of piety. We are not here called upon to shew, that the very reverse is the truth. It is enough, as respects our present subject, to know, that this the most really religious, was likewise the happiest period of Cowper's chequered existence. "Even solitude," to use

his own words, "has nothing gloomy in it, if the soul points upwards. When this is the case, as surely as it was with St Paul's Hebrew converts, when they had come unto Jesus, the mediator of the new covenant, there is an end of the melancholy and dulness of life at once."

When one that holds communion with the skies,
Has fill'd his urn where these pure waters rise,
And once more mingles with us meaner things,

'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings:

Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide,

That tells us whence his treasures were supplied.

Thus occupied with thoughts of God, reading occasionally, or more frequently engaged in writing those beautiful letters which form the first part of the present collection, Cowper passed nearly two years, without any material occurrence disturbing his own, or the quiet of the circle to which he now so strictly belonged. But, in July 1767, a calamitous event threatened, for a time, to deprive him of the asylum he had found, and to which he had become daily more attached. One Sunday morning, while proceeding to the church, where he officiated weekly, Mr Unwin, senior, was thrown from his horse. The back part of the skull was so dreadfully fractured