who belongs to Cambridge, is a most amiable young man, and the daughter quite of a piece with the rest of the family. They see but little company, which suits me exactly; go when I will, I find a house full of peace and cordiality in all its parts, and am sure to hear no scandal, but such discourse instead of it, as we are all the better for. You remember Rousseau's description of an English morning; such are the mornings I spend with these good people, and the evenings differ from them in nothing, except that they are still more snug, and quieter. Now I know them, I wonder that I liked Huntingdon so 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 cousin, Mrs. Cowper, of Park House, near Hertford: "I have great reason, my dear Cousin, to be thankful to the gracious Providence, that conducted me to this place. The lady, in whose house I live, is so excellent a person, and regards me with a friendship so truly Christian, that I could almost fancy my own mother restored to ife again, to compensate to me for all the friends I have lost, and all my connexions broken. She has a son at Cambridge in all respects worthy of such a mother, the most amiable young man I ever knew. His natural and acquired endowments are very considerable, 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 society of such persons, and I pray God to make me, and keep me, worthy of them.”

It appears, from the following description of the manner in which he passed his time, that he was encouraged in that religious abstraction from the world, by the habits of the family with which he resided. From the last paragraph, it is manifest that Cowper had entertained an idea of taking orders, and that his mind was entirely absorbed by spiritual considerations:

66 I am obliged to you for the interest you take in my welfare, and for your inquiring so particularly after the manner in which my time passes here. As to amusements, I mean what the world calls such, we have none: the place indeed swarms 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 accessaries to this way of murthering our time, and by so 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 some 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 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.— I need not tell you, that such a life as this is consistent with the utmost cheerfulness, accordingly we are happy, and dwell together in unity as brethren. Mrs. Unwin has almost a maternal affection for me, and I have something very like a filial one for her, and her son and I are brothers. Blessed be the God of our salvation for such companions, and for such 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 satisfaction as to the propriety of declining it: indeed they who have the least idea of what I have suffered from the dread of public exhibitions, will readily excuse 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 unsuccessful. Had I the zeal of Moses, I should 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 dissolve their little society, as he continued to reside with his widow; but they removed to Olney, in Buckinghamshire, in October the same year, their motives for selecting that place, being a desire to live near the Rev. John Newton, who evinced much sympathy for Mrs. Unwin's situation. For many years after Cowper came to Olney, religion was the principal, if not the exclusive, subject of his thoughts. Excepting that he occasionally indulged his taste or 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 intercourse fostered Cowper's mental infirmity. All his letters at that period show how entirely it was engrossed by one object, and form a remarkable contrast to the playfulness by which his subsequent correspondence is distinguished. The letter which he wrote to Mrs. Cowper is a sufficient exemplification of this remark:

"MY DEAR COUSIN,

"I HAVE not been behind hand in reproaching myself with neglect, but desire to take shame to myself for my unprofitableness in this, as well as in all other respects. I take the next immediate opportunity however of thanking you for yours, and of assuring you that instead of being surprised at your silence, I rather wonder that you, or any of my friends, have any room left for so 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 settles the bounds of our habitations has at length cast 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