pily enough; but no sooner was he gone than the spirits of the poet began to sink from the want of society and the absence of amusements adapted to his situation. He does not appear to have carried to his new residence any letters of introduction; and although some of his neighbours waited on him of their own accord, their visit led to no permanent intimacy. Walking, however, which he practised both for health and amusement, relieved in some measure the tedium of his solitary parlour; and if his religious feelings still bordered on enthusiasm, they were happily unmingled with any portion of that remorse and despair which had formerly made such dreadful inroads on his frame. He was now quite regular in his attendance at church, and he appears to have been equally pleased with the earnestness of the officiating clergyman, and the devout deportment of the congregation.

From the print which Hayley has given of Cowper in his edition of his Letters, we can easily believe that there was something extremely interesting in his personal appearance; and although at this period his features had become calm and composed, it is probable that to a discerning eye they still retained traces of the tremendous billows of affliction which had so lately passed over him. But however this may be, it is certain that to his appearance alone he was indebted for one of the warmest and happiest friendships he ever formed. In a little country-town the history and character of every new-comer are sure to be sifted with the most eager curiosity; and accord-. ingly it soon became known that Cowper rather shunned than courted society. But notwithstanding of this, William Cawthorne Unwin, the son of the clergyman, felt such an interest in the stranger, merely from his appearance, that he accosted him one morning after coming out of church, and in a very particular manner requested the pleasure of his acquaintance. The

invalid, though extremely shy, was neither repulsive nor rude; and in the course of a short walk this amiable youth gained so much upon him by his frank and ingenuous manners, that he received an invitation to drink tea with him the same evening. This soon led to a farther intimacy, and Mr Unwin, not a little proud of the conquest he had made, took the first opportunity of presenting the poet to his truly Christian parents, by whom he was received with that home-welcome which is the best antidote to shyThe conversation and manners of Mrs Unwin in particular attracted his observation so strongly, that the great happiness he enjoyed in her society forms the unceasing theme of his letters written about this period.

ness.

It may not perhaps be improper to furnish the reader with a faint outline of the history of a family which figures so conspicuously in the life and letters of Cowper. The elder Mr Unwin, who was now advanced in years, had in the earlier part of his life been lecturer to the two churches in Huntingdon; but was afterwards promoted by his college to the living of Grimstone. On obtaining this preferment, he married Miss Cawthorne (Mrs Unwin), daughter of a draper in Ely, a lady to whom he had been long attached; but Mrs Unwin, who was much younger than her husband, disliking both the situation and the society of Grimstone, prevailed on him, shortly after their union, to return to Huntingdon, where he was known and respected. Their household consisted of a son and a daughter, the former in his twenty-first and the latter in her eighteenth year; besides a few domestic pupils, whose studies Mr Unwin was in the habit of directing. The discovery of a gold mine could not have delighted the hypochondriac half so much as his connexion with this family, and in the course of a long series of letters, he has given us various

hints respecting their characters. The father he de scribes as a man of learning and good sense, and as simple as Parson Adams; the mother as a lady who had read much to excellent purpose,-who, possessing an uncommon understanding, was more polite than a duchess, and whose conversation had often done him more good than he could have received from an audience of the first prince in Europe. The daughter, who was rather handsome and genteel, resembled her mother in her great piety; and her brother is described as a youth who, having nothing in his heart that made it necessary for him "to keep it barred and bolted, opened it to the perusal even of a stranger." Betwixt these different persons there subsisted the most perfect harmony. The son was designed for the church, not as a profession merely, but from principle and choice; and the daughter, we believe, at the age of eighteen, was betrothed to the gentleman whom she afterwards married.† To close this digression, it may be stated that one of Mr Unwin's boarders having been sent to the university, Cowper was soon after allowed, at his own request, to occupy the vacant place; and from that moment he was scarcely ever separated for a day or an hour from the society of Mrs Unwin.

It has been remarked, that the life which the poet led in this devout and favourite circle, was more like that of a "Penitentiary friar than a Protestant lay

When the poet used this expression, he probably recollected the saying of lago, so often quoted,—

"I will wear my heart upon my sleeve

For daws to peck at."-Othello.

This gentleman, to whom Miss Unwin was united in 1774, was the Rev. Matthew Powley, M. A. afterwards vicar of Dewsbury. He was born in September 1740, in the small village of Whale, parish of Lowther; was educated at the free school of Appleby; became eminent for piety and learning; and died in December 1806, in his 67th year. His widow survived him nearly twenty-nine years, having expired in November 1835, aged eighty-nine.

man.

With the single exception of more extended walks, their course of life appears, from the following passage, to have been exactly such as we may suppose obtains in a modern monastery. "We breakfast (he says) 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 rain, 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."

99

From the following passage it would appear that Cowper, about this period, had been advised to take orders: "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 rea. dily 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

In the month of July 1767, being about two years from the time Cowper first settled at Huntingdon, the Rev. Mr Unwin was unfortunately thrown from his horse, while riding to church on a Sunday morning, and received a fracture on his skull, which occasioned his death on the Thursday following. An occurrence of this nature was calculated to make a deep impression on the mind of the poet. The moment he was made aware of the accident, he repaired to the cottage to which Mr Unwin was carried, and has described in very feeling terms both his sufferings as a man and his fortitude as a Christian.* Shortly

endeavours in this way have not been entirely unsuccessful. Had I the zeal of Moses, I should want an Aaron to be my spokesman."

For the following important note I am indebted to Mr Carruthers of the Inverness Courier, who resided several years in Huntingdon, wrote a history of the place, and in the course of his researches obtained ready access to the Corporation Records :

"The house in Huntingdon in which Cowper and his friends resided communicates through the garden with a public walk, shaded from a common by a row of fine lime-trees; and here the amiable recluse was frequently seen pacing in solitary but cheerful meditation. This retreat is still occasionally named Cowper's Walk. The poet had just recovered from that awful calamity which for a time overwhelmed his reason; and his gratitude for this delivery, joined to the kind parental solicitude of the Unwins, seems to have expanded his native tenderness of heart, and disposed him to look on all around him with unalloyed satisfaction and delight. In his letters written from Huntingdon, we find the utmost playfulness of fancy, sprightliness, and good humour. I am much happier than the day is long, he writes, and sunshine and candlelight alike see me perfectly contented.' He talks with rapture of his early rising and morning rambles, his walks to a spring in the vicinity of the town, and to the beautiful little churchyard of Hartford, situated on the banks of the Ouse.-It appears from the Corporation Books of Huntingdon, that Mr Unwin, the poet's friend, was appointed, in 1734, lecturer to a charity held in trust by the Mercers' Company in London. He was also some time master of the grammar school of Huntingdon-the school in which Oliver Cromwell was educated-which office he resigned in 1761. In 1767, a fall from his horse at Godmanchester terminated the existence of this gentleman, whose humble grave in St Mary's churchyard, Huntingdon, is marked by a flat unornamented stone, inscribed simply- Morley Unwin, B. D., died July 2, 1767, aged 63.' It is not a little singular, as militating