try, conjectures, that a poem, written by the celebrated Sir Thomas Moore in his youth, (the merry jest of the Serjeant and Frere) may have suggested to Cowper his tale of John Gilpin; but that fascinating ballad had a different origin; and it is a very remarkable fact, that full of gaiety and humour as this favourite of the public has abundantly proved itself to be, it was really composed at a time, when the spirit of the poet, as he informed me himself, was very deeply tinged with his depressive malady. It happened one afternoon, in those years when his accomplished friend Lady Austen made a part of his little evening circle, that she observed him sinking into encreasing dejection; it was her custom, on these occasions, to try all the resources of her sprightly powers for his immediate relief. She told him the story of John Gilpin (which had been treasured in her memory from her childhood) to dissipate the gloom of the passing hour. Its effect on the fancy of Cowper had the air of enchantment: he informed her the next morning, that convulsions of laughter, brought on by his recollection of her story, had kept him waking during the greatest part of the night, and that he had turned it into a ballad.-So arose the pleasant poem of John Gilpin: It was eagerly copied, and find

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ing its way rapidly to the newspapers, it was seized by the lively spirit of Henderson, the comedian, a man, like the Yorick described by Shakespeare, “ of infinite jest, and most excellent fancy," it was seized by Henderson as a proper subject for the display of his own comic powers, and by reciting it, in his public readings, he gave uncommon celebrity to the ballad, before the public suspected to what poet they were indebted for the sudden burst of ludicrous amusement: Many readers were astonished when the poem made its first authentic appearance in the second volume of Cowper.

A pleasing proof of the medicinal effect that this sportive ballad continued to produce on the spirits of its author, appears in the next Letter,

LETTER XII.

To the Revd. WILLIAM UNWIN.

Nov. 4, 1782.

My dear friend, you are too modest ;

though your last consisted of three sides only, I am certainly a Letter in your debt. It is possible, that

this present writing may prove as short. Yet, short as it may be, it will be a Letter, and make me creditor, and you my debtor. A Letter indeed ought not to be estimated by the length of it, but by the con

tents, and how can the contents of any Letter be more agreeable than your last.

You tell me that John Gilpin made you laugh tears, and that the ladies at court are delighted with my Poems. Much good may they do them! May they become as wise as the writer wishes them, and they will be much happier than he ! I know there is in the book that wisdom which cometh from above, because it was from above that I received it. May they receive it too! For whether they drink it out of the cistern, or whether it falls upon them immediately from the clouds, as it did on me, it is all one. It is the water of life, which whosoever drinketh, shall thirst no more. As to the famous horseman abovementioned, he and his feats are an inexhaustible source of merriment. At least we find him so, and seldom meet without refreshing ourselves with the recollection of them. You are perfectly at liberty to deal with them as you please. Auctore tantùm anonymo imprimantur; and when printed, send me a copy.

cess.

I congratulate you on the discharge of your duty, and your conscience, by the pains you have taken for the relief of the prisoners. You proceeded wisely, yet courageously, and deserved better sucYour labours, however, will be remembered elsewhere, when you shall be forgotten here; and if the poor folks at Chelmsford should never receive the benefit of them, you will yourself receive it in Heaven. It is pity that men of fortune should be determined to acts of beneficence sometimes by popular whim, or prejudice, and sometimes by motives still more unworthy. The liberal subscription, raised in behalf of the widows of seamen, lost in the Royal George, was an instance of the former. At least a plain, short, and sensible Letter in the news-paper, convinced me at the time, that it was an unnecessary and injudicious collection: and the difficulty you found in effectuating your benevolent intentions on this occasion, constrains me to think, that had it been an affair of more notoriety, than merely to furnish a few poor fellows with a little fuel to preserve their extremities from the frost, you would have succeeded better. Men really pious, delight in doing good by stealth. But nothing less than an ostentatious display of bounty, will satisfy mankind in general. I feel myself dis

secret.

posed to furnish you with an opportunity to shine in We do what we can. But that can is little. You have rich friends, are eloquent on all occasions, and know how to be pathetic on a proper one. The winter will be severely felt at Olney by many, whose sobriety, industry, and honesty, recommend them to charitable notice: and we think we could tell such persons as Mr. or Mr. half a dozen tales of distress, that would find their way into hearts as feeling as theirs. You will do, as you see good; and we in the mean time shall remain convinced, that will do your best. Lady Austen will no doubt do something. For she has great sensibility and

you

on our part, be pleased to make acknowledgments,