surrendered himself more and more thoroughly to the influence of John Newton and Mrs Unwin. Both these excellent persons did a great deal to make him happy, and if they did. not succeed, who could have done much better? If there was a certain sameness in their mode of preparing that "Balm of Gilead," which is the great cure to a mind diseased, let us rather pity than blame the physicians, and at all events, in God's name, let us not reflect upon the remedy! The malady was beyond them, and beyond man, and beyond time, and so afterwards it was abundantly proved.

Mr Newton, finding other methods vain, tried to awaken Mr Cowper's long slumbering muse, and the "Olney Hymns" were the result. In 1773 he was again seized with derangement, owing, some say, to the preparation of these hymns; others say, still less probably, to the refusal of a proposal of marriage on his part to Mrs Unwin; and others to his brother's death. At all events, he became very ill, and Dr Cotton had again to be consulted. This, however, was a much gentler attack than the former. It was characterised by great submission on the part of the sufferer, and what was remarkable, his dreams were throughout quite tranquil and sane. We have heard of cases in which the original simplicity and virtue of a character, which had degenerated through bad society and habits, were generally retained in sleep, so that a man who was a sinner all the day, was a saint all the night. Cowper's was a case of the same order, although in a different way. In the first access of his frenzy he left Mrs Unwin's house for Newton's, and could not, for two years, be prevailed on to return. The first symptom he gave of returning reason was, writing verses on his own imaginary doom. THAT, in his notion, implied, that he was singled out by a special decree as the victim of eternal destruction. He began next to amuse himself with keeping leverets, the history of which, as written by himself, is one of the most pleasing passages in his story. His love of literature, too, revived, and he resumed his old habits of reading, and was particularly delighted with Cook's Voyages, and Vincent Bourne's Poems.

Meanwhile, Newton, owing in part to the severity of his doctrine and life, was compelled to leave Olney for London,

but before his departure published the Olney Hymns, and introduced Cowper to the Rev. William Bull, the amiable dissenting minister of Newport-Pagnell, to whom he soon became much attached. He felt, however, Mr Newton's departure keenly, and the more as it was followed by the death of Sir Thomas Hesketh, his cousin's husband. But his friend Thurlow had now become chanceller, and Cowper began to flatter himself with hopes of a pension. He strove, too, in every method, by gardening, bathing, walking, birdcaging, and at last by writing rhyme, to divert his mind from gloomy thoughts. Mrs Unwin urged him to write something of moment, and he commenced the "Progress of Error." This poem, after having been subjected to Newton's criticism and approved of, was followed in rapid succession by "Truth," "Table Talk," and "Expostulation." Johnson, in St Paul's Churchyard, became the publisher of his first volume, which contained ultimately several other pieces, large and small, and after various vexatious delays, was fairly launched in 1781. It met with a tolerable reception and nothing more. The Critical Review discovered that it had no original genius! The Monthly Review, then the supreme ruler of the World of Letters, praised it rather highly, and admitted the author to be a poet. Newton wrote a preface to it, very characteristic both of himself and Cowper, which, in the first instance, was suppressed, although it has been restored in many succeeding editions.

But now a fair and splendid vision, like some " gay creature of the elements," burst across the dim sphere of Cowper and of his Olney circle, and made both for a season glad. This was Lady Austen, the wealthy widow of a baronet-a lady who had many accomplishments and talents, and possessed, moreover, that inimitable vivacity of manner, that airy charm and buoyant ease, for which French ladies are so distinguished, and which she had cultivated during her residence in France. The poet had seen her in company with her sister, Mrs Jones, a clergyman's widow from a neighbouring village, visiting a friend in Olney, and might have used-had Burke's "Reflections" then been written-the words of the orator-" Never did there light upon this orb, which she scarcely seemed to touch,

a more delightful vision." By a stretch of courtesy, strange in so shy a man, he requested Mrs Unwin to invite her to the house, and speedily there sprung up an intimacy of the most interesting kind between the melancholy bard and this graceful and lively lady. If it was not exactly love, the word friendship still less avails to characterise it fully; let us call it a mutual fascination. The poet felt captivated by the beauty, charmed by the manners, attracted by the mind, cheered by the wit, and overpowered by the sympathies of this lady; and she, on her side, admired to enthusiasm the genius, adored the virtues, felt the force of the gentleness, and pitied the calamities of the poet. She became, for a period, his blameless mistress-his new muse-his inspiring genius; and although it was partly a delusion, who so cruel as to grudge one short and innocent dream of happiness to a man whose usual life was so dark, solitary, and forlorn? Let those who are disposed to blame either party in this little Platonic interlude, remember that, but for the apparition of Lady Austen in Olney, "The Task" would never have instructed, nor "John Gilpin " delighted, the world. She told Cowper the story of the one, and suggested to him the subject of the other. He said "I want a subject for a poem." She answered"Write on any-write on this sofa." The good-humoured and fascinated poet obeyed; and the sofa, and himself, and the fair suggester became straightway immortal. It is well known that certain little disputes and jealousies between Mrs Unwin and Lady Austen terminated this delightful episode in Cowper's history. She left Olney for ever, and Cowper, although he submitted without a murmur, and even tried to fancy that her departure was a blessing, often, we doubt not, sighed in secret at the memory of the halcyon days when "her conversation had as happy an effect upon his melancholy spirit as the harp of David upon Saul."

She had told him the old story of John Gilpin. It had amused him exceedingly, and he spent a sleepless night in turning it into a ballad. This immortal humourism, after making his own circle merry, was sent to the Public Advertiser, the readers of which it made merrier still; was copied into many newspapers, and all their readers joined in the laugh;

and was, in fine, recited by Henderson the actor to crowds in the capital, and then from London to John o' Groat's House, the whole country dissolved into one grin. Except in the case of Hood's "Song of the Shirt," we do not remember any instance of such rapid and richly-deserved popularity won by one short strain. Best of all, it paved the way for "The Task," which would never have gained such a sudden reputation but for "John Gilpin," which seemed a little cock-boat sent ashore to announce the approach and secure the favourable reception of a large and wealthy galleon of genius.

This fine poem appeared in 1785, and became not only popular, but served to buoy up the first volume of his poems. Upon reading it, Lady Hesketh wrote him; and their correspondence was renewed. His letters to her are the most delightful of all his letters-in other words, the most delightful letters in the world. He told her in one of the first of these, as a great secret, that he was busy translating Homer. Many have regretted that Cowper spent so much of his time in this translation; but we think that the mixture of mechanical, literary, and manual work which a translation implies, made it the very task for him. "The Tale of Troy" took his thoughts far, far away from his personal agony, and in the work of collating, editing, transcribing MSS., and turning lines, there was nothing to fret his heart, or rouse from its lair the demon of his memory.

Lady Hesketh proved an essential ally. Through her, or at least with her knowledge, an anonymous friend-probably the faithful Theodora-sent him an annuity of £50, besides many other presents. At last she came down to visit himspent some months in Olney-and before returning persuaded him to remove his dwelling to Weston, a much cleaner and prettier village in the neighbourhood. This was in 1786. About the same time the clerk of a church in Northampton applied to him to write annual verses for his bills of mortality, and with great good-nature Cowper complied.

He had scarce established himself in his new abode when his friend, William Unwin, was seized with typhus fever, and died. Shortly after, his malady returned in full force, and for

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six months he could bear the sight of no human face except Mrs Unwin.

On his recovery, Samuel Rose, a young Englishman, who had been studying at Edinburgh, came as "a pilgrim of his genius" to his dwelling, bearing with him the thanks of the Scottish professors for his volumes, and a copy of Burns' Poems. "Hero-worshippers" in those days were scarce, and Rose, besides, was an intelligent and warm-hearted youth. Cowper loved him warmly, and appreciated Burns' Poems, although he said his light was hid in a dark-lantern-alluding to the Scottish dialect. It is pleasing to remember, that Burns reciprocated the feeling, and cried, in his frank, fireblooded style, "What a glorious poem is Cowper's 'Task'!" One is tempted to wish that these two truest men, and most popular poets of their day, had met, and to fancy the particulars of their meeting-the timid and gentlemanly recluse of Olney shrinking somewhat at first from the brawny gauger, with his swarthy visage, his slouching gait, his buckskin breeches, his strong Ayrshire accent, and his wild daring talk-but, ere the interview was over, giving him the right hand of fellowship, and his blessing to boot; while Burns' black flashing eyes are filled with tears, as he compares his own miseries-past, present, and to come-with those still darker woes which were overwhelming his gentle brother bard.

Thus for several years ran the still dim current of Cowper's existence. Regular occupation with Homer, diversified by correspondence with, or visits from, Newton, Lady Hesketh, Rose, and young John Johnson, a distant relative of his own, who sought him out, and became his steadfast friend; anxious watchings over Mrs Unwin's declining health, the writing of songs on the slave-trade, and occasional articles for the Analytical Review, along with deep but fitful sinkings of heart and spirits, filled up the complete round of his days-days serener than any that he was to know during the remaining part of his pilgrimage.

In 1791 his translation of Homer, which had occupied him for six years, and had been extensively subscribed for, was published. He was now again at sea for a subject, and several were suggested to him by his friends. Lady Hesketh