have had to move in for eight months in the year, during thirteen years that I have been a prisoner. Had I been confined in the Tower, the battlements of it would have furnished me with a larger space. You say well, that there was a time when I was happy at Olney; and I am now as happy at Olney as I expect to be any where without the presence of God. Change of situation is with me no otherwise an object than as both Mrs. Unwin's health and mine may happen to be concerned in it. A fever of the slow and spirit-oppressing kind seems to belong to all, except the natives, who have dwelt in Olney many years; and the natives have putrid fevers. Both they and we, I believe, are immediately indebted for our respective maladies to an atmosphere encumbered with raw vapours issuing from flooded meadows; and we in particular, perhaps, have fared the worse, for sitting so often, and sometime for months, over a cellar filled with water. These ills we shall escape in the uplands; and as we may reasonably hope, of course, their consequences. But as for happiness, he that has once had communion with his Maker must be more frantic than ever I was yet, if he can dream of finding it at a distance from Him. I no more expect happiness at Weston than here, or than I should expect it, in company with felons and outlaws, in the hold of a ballast-lighter. Animal spirits, however, have their value, and are especially desirable to him who is condemned to carry a burthen, which at any rate will tire him, but which, without their aid, cannot fail to crush him. The dealings of God with me are to myself utterly unintelligible. I have never met, either in books or in conver

sation, with an experience at all similar to my own. More than a twelvemonth has passed since I began to hope that, having walked the whole breadth of the bottom of this Red Sea, I was beginning to climb the opposite shore, and I prepared to sing the song of Moses. But I have been disappointed: those hopes have been blasted; those comforts have been wrested from me. I could not be so duped, even by the archenemy himself, as to be made to question the divine nature of them; but I have been made to believe, (which, you will say, is being duped still more,) that God gave them to me in derision, and took them away in vengeance. Such, however, is, and has been my persuasion many a long day; and when I shall think on that subject more comfortably, or, as you will be inclined to tell me, more rationally and scripturally, I know not. In the mean time, I embrace with alacrity every alleviation of my case, and with the more alacrity, because, whatsoever proves a relief of my distress, is a cordial to Mrs. Unwin, whose sympathy with me, through the whole of it, has been such, that, despair excepted, her burthen has been as heavy as mine. Lady Hesketh, by her affectionate behaviour, the cheerfulness of her conversation, and the constant sweetness of her temper, has cheered us both; and Mrs. Unwin not less than me. By her help we get change of air and of scene, though still resident at Olney; and by her means, have intercourse with some families in this country, with whom, but for her, we could never have been acquainted. Her presence here would, at any time, even in my happiest days, have been a comfort to me; but, in the present day, I am doubly

sensible of its value. She leaves nothing unsaid, nothing undone, that she thinks will be conducive to our well-being; and, so far as she is concerned, I have nothing to wish, but that I could believe her sent hither in mercy to myself,-then I should be thankful. I understand that Mr. Bull is in town. If you

should see him and happen to remember it, be so good as to tell him that we called at his door yesterday evening. All were well, but Mrs. B. and Mr. Greatheed were both abroad.

I am, my dear friend, with Mrs. Unwin's love to Mrs. N. and yourself, hers and yours, as ever,

W. C.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN.

MY DEAR WILLIAM,

August 9, 1786. I SCRATCH a very few lines, just to prevent your saying-Well, I think the poet might contrive to afford a few minutes, notwithstanding his Homerican occupation.

I hope that you have by this time completely recovered from the indisposition occasioned by your journey. The day after your departure, Lady Hesketh said, Now we want Mr. Unwin. Her reason, at least one of her reasons, for saying so was that we had spent near half an hour together without laughing:an interval of gravity that does not often occur where you are present.

She has not yet heard from Mr. Hornby. If a

letter should arrive by this day's post, I will insert notice of it before I close mine. We infer from his silence that he had not previously engaged himself before the receipt of hers. He has, I suppose, like most men of large fortune, who see much company, a cacoethes not of scribendi but of non scribendi.

To

Sir Robert Throckmorton is not dead,-on the contrary, alive and likely to live the longer for having had an eresypylatose eruption. That word is so seldom in my use that I will not swear I have spelt it right. If you should be equally uncertain, consult the apothecary. Mr. Throckmorton gave me yesterday a morning call, and was very chatty and agreeable. day we dine there. He performs for us at Weston with the liberality of a gentleman landlord, and spares no expense to make our future residence both smart and commodious. My cousin is, for her part, lavish of all manner of good things, and sets no bounds to her kindness, so you are likely to see us next year, at all points well accommodated. You will hear from her, by the way, as soon as she hears from Mr. Hornby.

I have had a most obliging letter from Mr. Smith at Clifton, giving me an account of his recovery that afforded me, as you will believe, true pleasure, enquiring when I shall send Homer to press, and assuring me that the notice of it had raised more expectation of it in the world than he could have supposed it possible a mere notice should; and including withal a twenty pound bill for his children,—the poor.

Adieu, my dear William, Pandarus and Diomede are on fire to combat, breakfast is ready, and the

moment I have swallowed it, I must commit them in terrible conflict.

Your mother's warmest love and mind attend you and yours. My sweet cousin sends her affectionate compliments.

Ever yours,

WM. COWPER.

TO THE REV. WILLIAM UNWIN.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

August 24, 1786. I CATCH a minute by the tail and hold it fast, while I write to you. The moment it is fled I must go to breakfast. The post that brought me your speculations on the subject of your future pupil, conveyed to you I suppose Lady Hesketh's letter on the same subject, which has no doubt given you satisfaction. I saw Mr. Hornby's letter, than which nothing could be more handsome. His sole remark on the matter of stipend is this,—that in placing the young gentleman under the influence of such excellent tuition, he confers on him a greater advantage than he could secure to him by any other means. You see, therefore, that he is a wise man, knows how to value the opportunity, and that erudition, &c. are better than house and land; for that

When house and land are gone and spent,

Then larning is most excellent.

I wish you all possible success with him, and that the Muses nine, with Apollo at their head, may brighten

S. C.-5.

A A