after this event, Mrs Unwin, to whom Huntingdon had now lost all its charms, expressed an anxious wish to change her place of residence; and as her conduct to her friend and boarder had always been that of a mother to a son, he determined to follow her whithersoever she should go. Some time elapsed, however, before they were able to fix upon a new abode; and in making choice at last of the village, or rather the town of Olney, they seem to have been chiefly guided by the Rev. John Newton, a gentleman well known in the religious world. To this place they accordingly removed on the 14th October 1767.* Here Cowper continued in the same sequestered habits of life, endearing himself to all around by numerous acts of beneficence and charity, which he was enabled to perform through the bounty of the late John Thornton, Esq. an unassuming philanthropist, whom against our conception of Mr Unwin's character, that the Huntingdon Corporation Books contain resolutions expressive of severe censure upon the reverend gentleman for neglect of his duty as lecturer. On one occasion, the Corporation resolved to dismiss him from the charge, worth about £60 per annum, unless he became more regular in the discharge of his duty. Mr Unwin, however, retained the situation long afterwards; and it is probable, that another pastoral charge which he held, the rectory of Graffham in the same county, interfered, at the period in question, with his lectureship at Huntingdon. Morley Unwin, like Crabbe, the poet, and almost every other pluralist, must have felt that the binding influence of a settled and perinanent minister cannot be withdrawn for any length of time with impunity." Some time subsequent to this, Cowper addressed a letter to his cousin, Mrs Cowper, to which he appended the following remarkable note:-"N. B. I am not married."-" This," says a recent writer, "was intended to contradict a rumour which was circulated, that the poet had married Mrs Unwin; and as she was not more than ten years older than himself, nothing but their exemplary characters prevented the connexion from being received with suspicion." All his biographers have attributed their attachment to friendship, excepting one, who states that Cowper intended to marry her; that the recurrence of his malady alone prevented it; and that he repeatedly declared, that if he ever entered a church again, it would be for the purpose of making her his wife.-Memoir of Cowper by the Rev. S. Greatbead, prefixed to an edition of his poems, 16mo, 1818. he has justly celebrated in his poems. Here also, the society and example of Mr Newton, whose pastoral labours, in a certain sense, he may be said to have shared, contributed to fix his thoughts more and more on the awful contemplation of futurity; and, in conjunction with this gentleman, he wrote a variety of spiritual songs, known by the name of the "Olney Hymns," which were intended to perpetuate the remembrance of their friendship. "Cowper," says his reverend coadjutor, "particularly loved the poor. He often visited them in their cottages, conversed with them in the most condescending manner, sympathized with them, counselled and comforted them in their distresses; and those who were seriously disposed were often cheered and animated by his prayers." But the mind of the poet was composed of materials too delicate to support so great an excess of pious exercises. In January 1773, his hypochondriacal malady returned with all its former violence, and nearly six years elapsed before reason resumed her sway. During this season of affliction, the friendship of Mrs Unwin was put to the severest test; and the tenderness and assiduity with which she watched over the interesting sufferer, were such as a mother only, or one gifted with a mother's solicitude, could bestow. So sensible was he of this, that on being restored to health, it formed the chief business of his life to repay the kindness he had received, by the utmost attention to the health and comfort of his aged companion. About three years from the time he settled at Olney, his brother John was seized with a dangerous distemper, of which he subsequently died on the 20th March 1770, aged thirty-three. An event of this nature could not fail to make a deep impression on the sensitive mind of the poet; and it is probable that the pain he suffered on the occasion, added to the self-denied tenor of his life, laid the foundation of that long and painful illness which again eclipsed his admirable faculties. From the moment he arrived at Cambridge, he appears to have been apprehensive that death was in the cup, and while the physician exhausted all the resources of the healing art, in attempting to subdue the malady of his patient, the amiable poet applied himself with equal assiduity to effect that change in his religious sentiments, which he believed to be essential to his eternal welfare. In this attempt he at last succeeded; and in relating the circumstance to his cousin, Mrs Cowper, who had heard that his brother's death had been predicted by a female fortuneteller, he says, "I suppose there may be some truth in the matter; but whatever he might think of it before his knowledge of the truth, and however extraordinary her predictions might really be, I am satisfied that he had then received far other views of the wisdom and majesty of God, than to suppose that he would intrust his secret counsels to a vagrant, who did not mean, I suppose, to be understood to have received her intelligence from the Fountain of Light, but thought herself sufficiently honoured by any who would give her credit for a secret intercourse of this kind with the Prince of Darkness."* John Cowper was a man much esteemed for his amiable manners and extensive ac The fortune-teller seems to have been an old soldier, and not a female, as Cowper supposed. His predictions were, "that John Cowper would remain only a short time at the school in which he then studied, but would be sent to a larger one; that he would go to the university, and, before he left it, would form an attachment strong enough to give him much disappointment, as it would not be mutual; that he would not marry before he was thirty, but that after that age his fate became obscure, and the lines of his hand showed no more prognostics of futurity." These prognostications appear to have made a deep impression on the mind of Cowper's brother; and as circumstances occurred which gave to them a colouring of truth, his last illness, which occurred after he had passed his thirtieth year, was viewed by him as the consummation of the predictions which had been uttered in his boyhood.-Southey's Works of Cowper (Svo, London, 1836-7), vol. vii. pp. 259, 260. quirements as a linguist, as may be gathered from an affecting tribute which is paid to his memory in the second book of "The Task." I had a brother once: Peace to the memory of a man of worth! Was sacred; and was honour'd, loved, and wept, By more than one, themselves conspicuous there. During the first period of William's second illness, his religious despondency was too deep and settled to admit of any alleviation; but afterwards he was so far enabled to struggle with it as to find amusement in the taming of three hares, the gift of kind neighbours, who had heard him express a wish to rear a single leveret. To gather day by day the food, and observe the different gambols of these quadrupeds, although rather a boyish employment, was one well suited to the feeble health of the poet; and that uniform kindness which can tame the most savage animal, soon gained him the confidence of the most timid. The merit of teaching pointers to set has been long ascribed to an English poet, and we believe Cowper was the first man who thought it worth while to study the dispositions of hares. But neither the character of bipeds nor quadrupeds could long escape his keen observation; and there is scarcely any subject, however unpromising, to which his lively pen could not impart an interest. The account which he published in the Gentleman's Magazine of this curious family has been universally read and admired; and were hares long-lived animals, and had his happened to survive their master, we believe they would have been worth more money at the present day, than even the most valuable of those which candidates for parliamentary honours distribute so liberally on the eve of an election. Two of these hares died of mere old age; and in a nice wooden box, which their keeper constructed with his own hands, dozed out life very comfortably, far from all the evils of gun and greyhound, poacher, or more gentlemanlike sportsman. He also kept canaries and pigeons, and a beautiful spaniel, called Beau, which attended him on all occasions. Of this little animal he has recorded a very pleasant anecdote. One summer evening, while wandering on the banks of the Ouse, enjoying the beauties of the scene and the season, or, perhaps, conning a favourite author, he observed a water-lily floating in the stream, which, with the help of his staff, he in vain endeavoured to bring to the shore. At last, not choosing to encounter the risk of damp feet or more serious immersion, he abandoned the pursuit; upon which his dog, who had all along eagerly watched his movements, plunged into the river, seized the lily very gently with his teeth, and returning to the shore, immediately laid it at his master's feet. Beau was of course much caressed for the service he had performed; and were the power of making knights vested in poets, and the honour applicable to the canine race, there can be no doubt that he would have been honourably distinguished among the dogs of his time. As it was, the whole affair ended in a song-the bank-paper of poets, but which unfortunately has never been declared a legal tender. In 1778, he re-directed his attention to literary pursuits, and again engaged in a correspondence with several of his friends. His first letters were addressed to the Reverend William Unwin, who had now obtained orders, and was actively engaged in the duties of his profession. Many of these epistles, particularly those dated in 1780, are enlivened by a constant flow of sprightliness and good-humour, as may be inferred from the following playful specimen :-"Alas! what can I do with my wit? I have not enough to do |