it up at once, and by this means, run the hazard of ruining my benefactor's right of appointment, by bringing his discretion into queftion. In this fituation, fuch a fit of paffion has sometimes seized me, when alone in my chambers, that I have cried out aloud, and cursed the hour of my birth; lifting up my eyes to heaven, at the same time, not as a fuppliant, but in the hellish spirit of rancorous reproach, and blafphemy against my Maker."

It would be painful to follow him further in his description of his wretchedness, and it is fufficient to ftate, that as his day of trial approached, he looked with eager hope to losing his senses, that he might avoid appearing at the bar of the house of Lords; but being disappointed in his expectation, despair made him contemplate self-destruction as the only escape from his mifery. His brother, who was a clergyman, and fome other friends, endeavoured to foothe him by spiritual confolation, but in vain; and in a violent paroxyfm of his disease he suddenly loft his reason. After confulting with his family, his brother refolved to place him at St. Albans, under the care of Dr. Cotton, who kept a house for infane patients, and to the fkill and humanity of that gentleman he owed his recovery after a feclufion of several months. The chief symptom of his disorder was a conviction of his unworthiness in reference to religion; "a fenfe," to use his own expreffion, "of felf-loathing and abhorrence, united to a fear of inftantaneous judgement." Cowper continued with Dr. Cotton about eighteen months; and as his views of religion were ftill tinctured with fanaticism, he refused to return to London on account of its profligacy; and that he might not be tempted to do fo by pecuniary confiderations, he resigned his Commiffionership of Bankrupts, by which he reduced his income to an amount scarcely adequate to his maintenance.

At the suggestion of his brother, he removed, in June, 1765, to Huntingdon; and from that time Cowper may almost be confidered his own biographer, in confequence of his voluminous correspondence, in which he mentions every thing in which he was concerned. His letters, which have long been before the world, are highly appreciated; and copious extracts from fuch of them as throw light upon his character, his pursuits, his opinions, or which elucidate his hiftory, will be introduced into this Memoir.

He had not been many months at Huntingdon, before he be

came known to the family of the Rev. William Unwin, the lecturer of two churches in that town; and fuch was the mutual pleasure which the acquaintance produced, that Cowper became a permanent inmate with them. Mr. Unwin's eftablishment confifted of his wife-the Mary of the Poet-his fon, who entered into holy orders, and a daughter. His first letter, after his arrival in Huntingdon, was addreffed to Jofeph Hill, Efq. an intimate friend who managed his pecuniary affairs, dated on the 24th June, 1765, in which he informed him that he was reftored to perfect health both of mind and body; and in October he thus fpoke of the Unwins:

"I have added another family to the number of those I was acquainted with, when you were here. Their name is Unwin -the most agreeable people imaginable; quite fociable, and as free from the ceremonious civility of country gentlefolks as any I ever met with. They treat me more like a near relation than a ftranger, and their house is always open to me. The old gentleman carries me to Cambridge in his chaife. He is a man of learning and good fenfe, and as fimple as Parfon Adams. His wife has a very uncommon understanding, has read much to excellent purpose, and is more polite than a duchess. The son, who belongs to Cambridge, is a moft amiable young man, and the daughter quite of a piece with the reft of the family. They fee but little company, which fuits me exactly; go when I will, I find a houfe full of peace and cordiality in all its parts, and am fure to hear no scandal, but such discourse instead of it, as we are all the better for. You remember Rouffeau's defcription of an English morning; fuch are the mornings I spend with these good people, and the evenings differ from them in nothing, except that they are ftill more fnug, and quieter. Now I know them, I wonder that I liked Huntingdon fo well before I knew them, and am apt to think, I should find every place disagreeable, that had not an Unwin belonging to it."

In March, 1766, he observed in a letter to his coufin, Mrs. Cowper, of Park House, near Hertford: "I have great reason, my dear Coufin, to be thankful to the gracious Providence, that conducted me to this place. The lady, in whose house I live, is fo excellent a perfon, and regards me with a friendship fo truly .Chriftian, that I could almoft fancy my own mother restored to life again, to compenfate to me for all the friends I have loft, and

all my connexions broken. She has a fon at Cambridge in all respects worthy of fuch a mother, the most amiable young man I ever knew. His natural and acquired endowments are very confiderable, and as to his virtues, I need only say, that he is a Christian. It ought to be a matter of daily thanksgiving to me, that I am admitted into the fociety of fuch perfons, and I pray God to make me, and keep me, worthy of them."

It appears from the following defcription of the manner in which he paffed his time, that he was encouraged in that religious abstraction from the world, by the habits of the family with which he refided. From the laft paragraph, it is manifeft that Cowper had entertained an idea of taking orders, and that his mind was entirely absorbed by spiritual confiderations :

"I am obliged to you for the intereft you take in my welfare, and for your inquiring fo particularly after the manner in which my time paffes here. As to amusements, I mean what the world calls fuch, we have none: the place indeed fwarms with them, and cards and dancing are the professed business of almost all the gentle inhabitants of Huntingdon. We refuse to take part in them, or to be acceffaries to this way of murthering our time, and by fo doing have acquired the name of Methodists. Having told you how we do not spend our time, I will next say how we do. We breakfast commonly between eight and nine; till eleven, we read either the Scripture, or the Sermons of fome faithful preacher of these holy mysteries: at eleven we attend Divine Service, which is performed here twice every day, and from twelve to three we feparate, and amufe 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 fit 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 converfation till tea time. If it rains, or is too windy for walking, we either converse within doors, or fing some Hymns of Martin's collection, and by the help of Mrs. Unwin's harpfichord make up a tolerable concert, in which our hearts, I hope, are the best and most musical performers. After tea we fally forth to walk in good earneft. Mrs. Unwin is a good walker, and we have generally travelled about four miles before we fee home again. When the days are short, we make this excurfion in the former part of the day, between church time and dinner.

At night we read and converse as before, till fupper, and commonly finish the evening either with hymns, or a fermon, and last of all the family are called to prayers.—I need not tell you, that such a life as this is confiftent with the utmost cheerfulness, accordingly we are all happy, and dwell together in unity as brethren. Mrs. Unwin has almost a maternal affection for me, and I have fomething very like a filial one for her, and her son and I are brothers. Bleffed be the God of our Salvation for fuch companions, and for fuch a life, above all for a heart to like it.

"I have had many anxious thoughts about taking Orders, and I believe every new convert is apt to think himself called upon for that purpose; but it has pleased God, by means which there is no need to particularize, to give me full fatisfaction as to the propriety of declining it: indeed they who have the least idea of what I have fuffered from the dread of public exhibitions, will readily excufe my never attempting them hereafter. In the mean time, if it please the Almighty, I may be an instrument of turning many to the truth in a private way, and hope that my endeavours in this way have not been entirely unfuccefsful. Had I the zeal of Mofes, I fhould want an Aaron to be my spokesman."

The happiness of the family with which he was domesticated sustained a severe blow in June, 1767, by the death of Mr. Unwin, who was thrown from his horse, and died within a few days. This event did not diffolve their little society, as he continued to refide with his widow; but they removed to Olney, in Buckinghamshire, in October the fame year, their motive for selecting that place, being a defire to live near the Rev. John Newton, who evinced much sympathy for Mrs. Unwin's fituation. For many years after Cowper came to Olney, religion was the principal, if not the exclufive fubject of his thoughts. Excepting that he occafionally indulged his tafte for a garden, and in mechanical labour, all his time was given to writing hymns, to prayer meetings, or in spiritual conversations with Mr. Newton, whose opinions appear very closely to have resembled the Poet's; and an intimacy arose which was only terminated by death. It can scarcely be doubted that this intercourfe foftered Cowper's mental infirmity. All his letters at that period fhow how entirely it was engroffed by one object, and form a remarkable contrast to the playfulness by which his subsequent correspondence is diftinguished. The letter which he wrote to Mrs. Cowper is a fufficient exemplification of this remark:

"MY DEAR COUSIN,

"I HAVE not been behind hand in reproaching myself with neglect, but defire to take fhame to myself for my unprofitableness in this, as well as in all other refpects. I take the next immediate opportunity however of thanking you for yours, and of affuring you that instead of being furprised at your filence, I rather wonder that you, or any of my friends, have any room left for fo careless and negligent a correspondent in your memories. I am obliged to you for the intelligence you send me of my kindred, and rejoice to hear of their welfare. He who fettles the bounds of our habitations has at length caft our lot at a great distance from each other, but I do not therefore forget their former kindness to me, or cease to be interested in their well being. You live in the centre of a world I know you do not delight in. Happy are you, my dear friend, in being able to difcern the infufficiency of all it can afford, to fill and fatisfy the defires of an immortal foul. That God who created us for the enjoyment of himself has determined in mercy that it shall fail us here, in order that the bleffed refult of all our inquiries after happiness in the creature may be a warm pursuit, and a close attachment to our true interest, in fellowship and communion with Him, through the name and mediation of a dear Redeemer. I bless his goodnefs and grace that I have any reason to hope I am a partaker with you in the defire after better things, than are to be found in a world polluted with fin, and therefore devoted to destruction. May he enable us both to confider our present life in its only true light, as an opportunity put into our hands to glorify him. amongst men, by a conduct fuited to his word and will. I am miferably defective in this holy and blessed art, but I hope there is at the bottom of all my finful infirmities a fincere defire to live just so long as I may be enabled, in fome poor measure, to anfwer the end of my existence in this refpect, and then to obey the fummons, and attend him in a world where they who are his fervants here shall pay him an unfinful obedience for ever. Your dear mother is too good to me, and puts a more charitable conftruction upon my filence than the fact will warrant. I am not better employed than I should be in corresponding with her. I have that within which hinders me wretchedly in every thing that I ought to do, but is prone to trifle, and let time, and every good thing run to wafte. I hope however to write to her foon.