pected from his College, and settled with him on his Living of Grimston, but not liking the situation, and society of that sequestered scene, she prevailed on her husband to establish himself in the town of Huntingdon, where he was known and respected.

They had resided there many years, and with their two only children, a son and a daughter (whom I remember to have noticed at Cambridge, in the year 1763, as a youth and a damsel of countenances uncommonly pleasing) they formed a chearful, and social family, when the younger Unwin, described by Cowper, as

presented to his parents the solitary Stranger, on whose retirement he had benevolently intruded, and whose welfare he became more and more anxious to promote. An event highly pleasing and comfortable to Cowper soon followed this introduction; he was affectionately solicited by all the Unwins, to relinquish his lonely lodging, and become a part of their family.

I am now arrived at that period in the personal history of my friend, when I am fortunately enabled to employ his own descriptive powers in recording the events and characters, that particularly interested him, and in displaying the state of his mind at a re

markable

markable season of his checkered life. The following are the most early Letters of this affectionate Writer, with which time and chance, with the kindness of his friends and relations, have afforded me the advantage of adorning this Work.

Among his juvenile intimates, and correspondents, he particularly regarded two gentlemen, who devoted themselves to different branches of the Law, the present Lord Thurlow, and Joseph Hill, Esqr. whose name appears in the second Volume of Cowper's Poems, prefixed to a few Verses of exquisite beauty; a brief epistle, that seems to have more of the genuine ease, spirit, and moral gaiety of Horace, than any original epistle in the English language! From these two confidential associates of the Poet, in his unclouded years, I expected materials for the display of his early genius; but in the torrent of busy and splendid life, which bore the first of them to a mighty distance from his less ambitious fellow-student of the Temple, the private letters, and verses, that arose from their youthful intimacy have perished.

Mr. Hill has kindly favored me with a very copious collection of Cowper's Letters to himself, through a long period of time, and altho' many of them are of a nature, not suited to publication, yet many others will illustrate and embellish these Volumes. The steadiness and integrity of Mr. Hill's regard, for a person so much sequestered from his sight, gives him a peculiar title to stand first

among those, whom Cowper has honored by addressing to them his highly interesting and affectionate Letters.

Many of these

which I shall occasionally introduce in the parts of the narrative to which they belong, may tend to confirm a truth, not unpleasing to the majority of Readers, that the temperate zone of moderate fortune, equally removed from high, and low life, is most favorable to the permanence of friendship.

LETTER I.

To JOSEPH HILL, Esqr.-Cook's Court, Carey-Street, London.

you

DEAR JOE,

Huntingdon, June 24, 1765.

The only recompense I can make

for your kind attention to my affairs, during my illness, is to tell you, that by the mercy of God I am restored to perfect health both of mind and body. This, I believe, will give you pleasure, and I would gladly do any thing, from which you could re

ceive it.

I left St. Alban's on the 17th, and arrived that day at Cam bridge, spent some time there with my brother, and came hither on the 22d. I have a lodging that puts me continually in mind of our summer excursions; we have had many worse, and except the size of it (which however is sufficient for a single man) but few

better.

better. I am not quite alone, having brought a servant with me from St. Alban's, who is the very mirror of fidelity and affection for his master. And whereas the Turkish Spy says, he kept no servant, because he would not have an enemy in his house, I hired mine, because I would have a friend. Men do not usually bestow these encomiums on their lackeys, nor do they usually deserve them, but I have had experience of mine, both in sickness and in health, and never saw his fellow.

The river Ouse, I forget how they spell it, is the most agreable circumstance in this part of the world; at this town it is I believe as wide as the Thames at Windsor; nor does the silver Thames better deserve that epithet, nor has it more flowers upon its banks, these being attributes which in strict truth belong to neither. Fluellin would say they are as like as my fingers to my fingers, and there is Salmon in both. It is a noble stream to bathe in, and I shall make that use of it three times a week, troduced myself to it for the first time this morning.

having in

I beg you will remember me to all my friends, which is a task will cost you no great pains to execute---particularly remember me to those of your own house, and believe me

LETTER II.

To Major COWPER, at the Park-House, near Hartford.

MY DEAR MAJOR,

Huntingdon, Oct. 18, 1765.

I have neither lost the use of my fingers

nor my memory, though my unaccountable silence might incline you to suspect, that I had lost both. The history of those things which have, from time to time, prevented my scribbling, would be not only insipid, but extremely voluminous, for which reasons they will not make their appearance at present, nor probably at any time hereafter. If my neglecting to write to you were a proof that I had never thought of you, and that had been really the case, five shillings a piece would have been much too little to give for the sight of such a monster! but I am no such monster, nor do I perceive in myself the least tendency to such a transformation. You may recollect that I had but very uncomfortable expectations of the accommodation I should meet with at Huntingdon. How much better is it to take our lot, where it shall please Providence to cast without anxiety! Had I chosen for myself, it is impossible I could have fixt upon a place so agreable to me in all respects. I so much dreaded the thought of having a new acquaintance to make, with no other recommendation than that of being a perfect stranger, that I heartily wished no creature here might take the least notice of me. Instead of which, in about two months after my arrival, I became known to all the visitable people here, and do verily think it the most agreable neighbourhood I ever saw.

Here