in their cottages, converfed with them in the most condefcending manner, fympathized with them, counfelled and comforted them in their diftreffes; and those, who were feriously disposed, were often cheered, and animated, by his prayers!"-After the removal of Mr. New. ton to London, and the departure of Lady Auften, Olney had no particular attractions for Cowper; and Lady Hefketh was happy in promoting the project, which had occurred to him, of removing with Mrs. Unwin, to the near and pleafant village of Wefton. A feene highly favourable to his health and amusement! For, with a very comfortable mansion, it afforded him a garden, and a field of confiderable extent, which he delighted to cultivate and embellish. With these he had advantages ftill more defirable-eafy, perpetual accefs to the spacious and tranquil pleasure grounds of his accomplished and benevolent landlord, Mr. Throckmorton, whose neighbouring house supplied him with fociety peculiarly fuited to his gentle and delicate spirit. He removed from Olney to Wefton, in November, 1786. The course of his life in his new fituation (the fpot moft pleafing to his fancy!) will be beft defcribed by the fubfequent feries of his letters to that amiable relation, to whom he confidered himfelf as particularly indebted for this improvement in his domestic scenery. With these I fhall occafionally connect a felection of his letters to particular friends, and particularly the letters addreffed to one of his most intimate correfpondents, who happily commenced an acquaintance with the Poet, in the beginning of the year 1787. I add, with pleasure, the name of Mr. Rofe, the barrifter, whose friendship 1 was fo fortunate as to fhare, by meeting him at Weston, in a subsequent period, and whom I inftantly learnt to regard by finding that he held very justly a place of the moft defirable diftinction in the heart of Cowper. LETTER LXI. To Lady HESKETH. WESTON LODGE, Nov. 26th, 1786. IT is my birth-day, my beloved coufin, and I determine to employ a part of it, that it may not be deftitute of feftivity, in writing to you. The dark, thick fog that has obscured it, would have been a burthen to me at Olney, but here I have hardly attended to it. The neatness and fnugness of our abode, compenfates all the drearinefs of the feason, and whether the ways are wet or dry, our houfe at least is always warm and commodious. Oh! for you, my coufin, to partake thefe comforts with us! I will not begin already to teaze you upon that fubject, but Mrs. Unwin remembers to have heard from your own lips, that you hate London in the fpring. Perhaps, therefore, by that time, you may be glad to escape from a scene which will be every day growing more difagreeable, that you may enjoy the comforts of the Lodge. You well know that the best house has a defolate appearance, unfurnished. This house accordingly, fince it has been occupied by us, and our Meubles, is as much fuperior to what it was when you faw it, as you can imagine. The parlour is even elegant. When I fay that the parlour is elegant, I do not mean to infinuate that the ftudy is not fo. It is neat, warm, and filent, and a much better study than I deserve, if I do not produce in it, an incomparable Tranflation of Homer. I think every day of those lines of Milton, and congratulate myself on having ob tained, before I am quite fuperannuated, what he seems not to have hoped for fooner. "And may at length my weary age, For if it is not a hermitage, at least it is a much better thing, and you must always understand, my dear, that when Poets talk of cottages, hermitages, and fuch like things, they mean a house with fix fashes in front, two comfortable parlours, a smart ftair-cafe, and three bed chambers of convenient dimenfions; in fhort, exactly fuch a houfe as this. The Throckmortons continue the most obliging neighbours in the world. One morning laft week, they both went with me to the Cliffs-a fcene, my dear, in which you would delight beyond measure, but which you cannot vifit except in the fpring or autumn. The heat of fummer, and the clinging dirt of winter, would destroy you. What is called the Cliff, is no cliff, nor at all like one, but a beautiful terrace, floping gently down to the Oufe, and from the brow of which, though not lofty, you have a view of fuch a valley, as makes that which you fee from the hills near Olney, and which I have had the honour to celebrate, an affair of no confideration. Wintry as the weather is, do not suspect that it confines me. I ramble daily, and every day change my ramble. Wherever I go, I find fhort grafs under my feet, and when I have travelled perhaps five miles, come home with fhoes not at all too dirty for a drawing-room, I was pacing yesterday under the elms, that furround the field in which ftands the great alcove, when lifting my eyes I faw two black genteel figures bolt through a hedge into the path where I was walking. You guess already who they were, and that they could be nobody but our neighbours. They had feen me from a hill at a distance, and had traverfed a great turnip-field to get at me. You fee therefore, my dear, that I am in fome request. Alas! in too much request with some people. The verfes of Cadwallader have found me at laft. I am charmed with your account of our little coufin* at Kenfington. If the world does not spoil him hereafter, he will be a valuable man. Good night, and may God bless thee. W. C. LETTER LXII. To Lady HESKETH. THE LODGE, Dec. 4, 1786. 1 SENT you, my dear, a melancholy let ter, and I do not know that I fhall now fend you one very unlike it. Not that any thing occurs in confequence of our late lofs, more afflictive than was to be expected, but the mind does not perfectly recover its tone after a shock like that which has been felt fo lately. This, I obferve, that though my experience has long fince taught me that this world is a world of shadows, and that it is the more prudent, as well as the more Christian course, to poffefs the comforts that we find in it, as if we poffeffed them not, it is no easy matter to reduce this doctrine into practice. We forget that that God who gave it, may, when he pleases, take it away; and that perhaps it may please him to take it at a time when we least expect it, or are least disposed to part from it. Thus it has happened in the prefent cafe. was a moment in Unwin's life, when there feemed to be more urgent want of him, than the moment in which he died. He had attained to an age, when, if they are at any time useful, men become more useful to their families, their friends, and the world. His parish began to feel, and to be fenfible of the advantages of his ministry. The clergy around him were many of them awed by his example. His children were thriving under his own Lord Cowper. There never tuition and management, and his eldeft boy is likely to feel his lofs feverely, being by his years, in fome respect, qualified to understand the value of such a parent, by his literary proficiency, too clever for a fchool-boy, and too young at the fame time for the univerfity. The removal of a man in the prime of life, of fuch a character, and with fuch connexions, feems to make a void in fociety, that never can be filled. God feemed to have made him juft what he was, that he might be a bleffing to others, and when the influence of his character and abilities began to be felt, removed him. These are mysteries, my dear, that we cannot contemplate without aftonishment, but which will nevertheless be explained hereafter, and muft in the mean time be revered in filence. It is well for his mother, that she has spent her life in the practice of an habitual acquiefcence in the difpenfations of Providence, elfe I know that this ftroke would have been heavier, after all that fhe has fuffered upon another account, than fhe could have borne. She derives, as fhe well may, great confolation from the thought that he lived the life, and died the death of a Chriftian. The confequence is, if poffible, more unavoidable than the moft mathematical conclufion, that therefore he is happy. So farewel, my friend Unwin! the first man for whom I conceived a friendship after my removal from St. Alban's, and for whom I cannot but ftill continue to feel a friendship, though I fhall fee thee with these eyes W. C. no more. LETTER LXIII. To Lady HESKETH. WESTON, Dec. 9, 1786. I AM perfectly fure that you are mistaken, though I do not wonder at it, confidering the fingular nature of the event, in the judgment that you form of |