for from Olney. Every one believed that there was no hope. None were more depressed than William, but it was his brother's spiritual danger that gave him most pain. Remembering that he had himself obtained good from the poems of George Herbert, Cowper read them to his brother. Seizing a fair opportunity, too, he made a confession of his faith, which, he says, "I did as well as I was able, illustrating it with my own experience." To the surprise of every one, however, John presently began to recover strength, and so rapidly did he mend, thanks to a strong constitution, that after a stay in Cambridge of only ten days his brother was able to leave him, in full belief that all was going on well. 49. The Death of his Brother John.- John's recovery, however, was only apparent. In February of the next year (1770) William was again summoned to attend him, and "by letters which represented him as so ill, that the physician entertained but little hope of his recovery." The complaints were "asthma and dropsy, supposed to be the effect of an imposthume in his liver." But what distressed Cowper was that his brother displayed so little preparedness for the change that was imminent. On the occasion of the former illness Cowper had been distressed at seeing on his brother's bed, not a Bible, but a book of plays; but this carelessness at an even more serious "He was time was tenfold more distressing to him. cheerful," says Cowper, "when I first arrived, expressed great joy at seeing me, thought himself much better than he had been, and seemed to flatter himself with hopes that he should be well again. . . . He did not seem to lay his illness at all to heart, nor could I find by his conversation that he had one serious thought. As often as a suitable occasion offered, when we were free from company and interruption, I endeavoured to give a spiritual turn to the discourse; and the day after my arrival, asked his permission to pray with him, to which he readily consented. I renewed my attempts in this way as often as I could, though without any apparent success; still he seemed as careless and unconcerned as ever; yet I could not but consider his willingness in this instance as a token for good, and observed with pleasure, that though at other times he discovered no mark of seriousness, yet when I spoke to him of the Lord's dealings with myself, he received. what I said with affection, would press my hand and look kindly at me, and seemed to love me all the better for it." To Mrs. Unwin, on the 26th of February, he writes : "I am tossed upon the waves of Hope and Fear. I see my brother asleep upon the very brink of Ruin, and the only Hand that can pluck him thence is not yet stretched out for his Deliverance. Every day brings him sensibly nearer to the great Decision; my thoughts are interested in his Condition all day long, and at night I pray for him in my dreams." This letter, which is the only one that has been preserved from Cowper to this dear friend, is likewise interesting as showing how passionately he was attached to her. Mr. Newton, writing to Cowper, had left a blank at the bottom of his letter, and Mrs. Unwin sent the letter on just as she received it, without, as Cowper would have liked, adding anything herself. "And why so?" he asks. "Do you imagine that a line from you, though it were but a line, would not be welcome to me, especially in my present distressful circumstances ! This is my fourth letter to you since I came hither, and I have received but one from you; perhaps tomorrow's post will bring me another—at least I shall be much disappointed if it does not, and shall begin to suspect that I have done something wrong, though, wherever I fail, I am very sure I never intentionally fail in any point where your Peace and Happiness are concerned." And at the end of the letter he says, “Let nothing I have said distress you; your peace is as dear to me as my own, and I cannot grieve you without suffering myself." Day after day William sat by his brother's side, spoke to him words of comfort, and "wrestled for a blessing upon him.” him." The The story of all this is a curious. psychological study of the religious mind, which Cowper wrote under the title of " Adelphi." It certainly is very touching. To the patient's state of carelessness succeeded a spirit of devotion, and one day (the 10th of March) John was discovered pouring out earnest prayer. "Shortly after," says Cowper, "when I returned, he threw his arms about my neck, and, leaning his head against mine, he said, 'Brother, if I live you and I shall be more like one another than we have been, but, whether I live or live not, all is well, and will be so; I know it will; I have felt that which I never felt before, and am sure that God has visited me with this sickness to teach me what I was too proud to learn in health. I never had satisfaction till now. The doctrines I had been used to referred me to myself for the foundation of my hopes, and there I could find nothing to rest upon. The sheet anchor of the soul was wanting. I thought you wrong, yet wished to believe as you did. I found myself unable to believe, yet always thought that I should one day be brought to do so. You suffered more than I have done before you believed these truths, but our sufferings, though different in their kind and measure, were directed to the same end. I hope He has taught me that which He teaches none but His own; I hope so. These things were foolishness to me once, but now I have a firm foundation, and am satisfied.' Later on he said, 'I see the rock upon which I once split, and I see the rock of my salvation. I have peace in myself, and, if I live, I hope it will be that I may be made a messenger of peace to others. I have learned that in a moment which I could not have learned by reading many books for many years.' Curiously enough, the same day that he was so refreshed in spirit he began, to the great surprise of his physician, Dr. Glinn, to mend in body, and for several days all entertained hopes of his recovery, during which he greatly rejoiced William by his conversation. Among other things he said, "How plain do many texts appear, to which, after consulting all the commentators, I could hardly affix a meaning. Now I have their true meaning without any comment at all. There is but one key to the New Testament; there is but one interpreter. I cannot describe to you, nor shall ever be able to describe, what I felt in the moment when it was given to me.” · The remarkable amendment, however, was arrested. The pains came on again, and once more his strength declined apace, but the comforting words of his brother and the great change that had taken place in himself, enabled him to bear with resignation his acutest sufferings. "In a time of severe and continual pain he smiled in my face and said, Brother, I am as happy as a king.'" Indeed, it is difficult to read this sketch by Cowper of the life, or rather latter days, of his brother, without tears starting to the eyes. At length came the end. "The Lord, in whose sight the death of His saints is precious, cut short his sufferings, and gave him a speedy and peaceful departure.” This was on the 20th of March (1770). Dr. Bennet, Bishop of Cloyne, writing to the Rev. Dr. Parr, says: "We have lost the best classic and most liberal thinker in our University, Cowper of Benet. He sat so long at his studies that the posture gave rise to an abscess in his liver, and he fell a victim to learning. The goddess has so few votaries here, that she resolved to take the best offering we had, and she employed Apollonius Rhodius to strike the blow." John Cowper was buried, by his own desire, in the chancel of the church at Foxton, the master and fellows of his college attending as pall-bearers. William, in compliance with the wishes of his friends, was not pre sent. An elegy on his death, in which he is addressed under the name of "Moschus," by a fellow-collegian, |