destruction as the only escape from his misery. His brother, who was a clergyman, and some other friends, endeavoured to soothe him by spiritual consolation, but in vain; and in a violent paroxysm of his disease he suddenly lost his reason. After consulting with his family, his brother resolved to place him at St. Albans, under the care of Dr. Cotton, who kept a house for insane patients, and to the skill and humanity of that gentleman he owed his recovery after a seclusion of several months. The chief symptom of his disorder was a conviction of his unworthiness in reference to religion; "a sense," to use his own expression, "of self-loathing and abhorrence, united to a fear of instantaneous judgment." Cowper continued with Dr. Cotton about eighteen months; and as his views of religion were still tinctured with fanaticism, he refused to return to London on account of its profligacy; and that he might not be tempted to do so by pecuniary considerations, he resigned his Commissionership 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 considered his own biographer, in consequence 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 such of them

as throw light upon his character, his pursuits, his opinions, or which elucidate his history, will be introduced into this Memoir.

Mr.

He had not been many months at Huntingdon, before he became known to the family of the Rev. William Unwin, the lecturer of two churches in that town; and such was the mutual pleasure which the acquaintance produced, that Cowper became a permanent inmate with them. Unwin's establishment consisted of his wife-the Mary of the Poet-his son, who entered into holy orders, and a daughter. His first letter, after his arrival in Huntingdon, was addressed to Joseph Hill, Esq., an intimate friend who managed his pecuniary affairs, dated on the 24th June, 1765, in which he informed him that he was restored to perfect health both of mind and body; and in October he thus spoke 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 sociable, and as free from the ceremonious civility of country gentleI ever met with.

folks as any
like a near relation than a

house is always open to me.

They treat me more stranger, and their The old gentleman

carries me to Cambridge in his chaise.

He is a

man of learning and good sense, and as simple as Parson 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 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 life 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:

"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