particulars of it. If we meet again in this world I will relate them to you; if not, they will serve for the subject of a conference in the next, where, I doubt not, we shall remember, and record them with a gratitude better suited to the subject."

In another letter to his amiable and accomplished cousin, Lady Hesketh, he thus writes. "Since the visit you were so kind as to pay me in the Temple, (the only time I ever saw you without pleasure,) what have I not suffered? And since it has pleased God to restore me to the use of my reason, what have I not enjoyed? You know by experience how pleasant it is to feel the first approaches of health after a fever; but, oh! the fever of the brain! to feel the quenching of that fire, is indeed a blessing which I think it impossible to receive without the most consummate gratitude. Terrible as this chastisement is, I acknowledge in it the hand of infinite justice; nor is it at all more difficult for me to perceive in it the hand of infinite mercy; when I consider the effect it has had upon me, I am exceedingly thankful for it, and esteem it the greatest blessing, next to life itself, I ever received from the divine bounty. I pray God I may ever retain the sense of it, and then I am sure I shall continue to be, as I am at present, really happy. My affliction has taught me a road to happiness, which, without it, I should never have found; and I know, and have experience of it every day, that the mercy of God to the believer is more than sufficient to compensate for the loss of every other blessing. You will believe that my happiness is no dream, because I have told you the foundation on which it is built. What I have written would appear like enthusiasm to many, for we are apt to give that name to every warm affection of the mind in others, which we have not experienced ourselves; but to you, who have so much to be thankful for, and a temper inclined to gratitude, it will not appear so."

To the same lady, a day or two afterwards, he writes"How naturally does affliction make us Christians! and how impossible is it, when all human help is vain, and the whole earth too poor and trifling to furnish us with one moment's peace, how impossible is it then to avoid looking at the gospel. It gives me some concern, though at the same time it increases my gratitude to reflect, that a convert made in Bedlam is more likely to be a stumbling-block to others than to advance their faith. But if it have that effect upon any, it is owing to their reasoning amiss, and drawing their conclusion from false premises. He who can ascribe an

amendment of life and manners, and a reformation of the heart itself, to madness, is guilty of an absurdity, that in any other case would fasten the imputation of madness upon himself; for, by so doing, he ascribes a reasonable effect to an unreasonable cause, and a positive effect to a negative. But when Christianity only is to be sacrificed, he that stabs deepest is always the wisest man. You, my dear cousin yourself, will be apt to think I carry the matter too far; and that in the present warmth of my heart, I make too ample a concession in saying that I am only now a convert. You think I always believed, and I thought so too; but you were deceived, and so was I. I called myself indeed a Christian, but he who knows my heart knows that I never did a right thing, nor abstained from a wrong one, because I was so; but if I did either, it was under the influence of some other motive. And it is such seeming Christians, such pretending believers, that do most mischief in the cause, and furnish the strongest arguments to support the infidelity of its enemies: unless profession and conduct go together, the man's life is a lie, and the validity of what he professes itself, is called in question. The difference between a Christian and an unbe liever, would be so striking, if the treacherous allies of the church would go over at once to the other side, that I am satisfied religion would be no loser by the bargain. You say, you hope it is not necessary for salvation to undergo the same affliction that I have undergone. No! my dear Cousin, God deals with his children as a merciful father; he does not, as he himself tells us, afflict us willingly. Doubtless there are many, who, having been placed by his good providence out of the reach of evil, and the influence of bad example, have, from their very infancy, been partakers-of the grace of his Holy Spirit, in such a manner, as never to have allowed themselves in any grievous offence against him. May you love him more and more, day by day, as every day while you think of him you will find him more worthy of your love, and may you be finally accepted by him for his sake, whose intercession for all his faithful servants cannot but prevail."

In the same letter he thus expresses his gratitude to God for placing him under the care of Dr. Cotton:-" I reckon it one instance of the providence that has attended me through this whole event, that I was not delivered into the hands of some London physician, but was carried to Dr. Cotton. I was not only treated by him with the greatest tenderness while I was ill, and attended with the utmost diligence, but

when my reason was restored to me, and I had so much need of a religious friend to converse with, to whom I could open my mind upon the, subject without reserve, I could hardly have found a better person for the purpose. My eagerness and anxiety to settle my opinions upon that long neglected point, made it necessary, that while my mind was yet weak, and my spirits uncertain, I should have some assistance. The doctor was as ready to administer relief to me in this article likewise, and as well qualified to do it, as in that which was more immediately his province. How many physicians would have thought this an irregular appetite, and a symptom of remaining madness! But if it were so, my friend was as mad as myself, and it is well for me that he was so. My dear Cousin, you know not half the deliverances I have received; my brother is the only one in the family who does. My recovery is indeed a signal one, and my future life must express my thankfulness, for by words I cannot do it."

He now employed his brother to seek out for him an abode somewhere in the neighbourhood of Cambridge, as he had determined to leave London, the scene of his former misery; and that nothing might induce him to return thither, he resigned the office of commissioner of bankrupts, worth about 607. per annum, which he still held. By this means, he reduced himself to an income barely sufficient for his maintenance; but he relied upon the gracious promise of God, that bread should be given him, and water should be sure.

On being informed that his brother had made many unsuccessful attempts to procure him a suitable dwelling, he, one day, poured out his soul in prayer to God, beseeching him, that wherever he should be pleased, in his fatherly mercy, to place him, it might be in the society of those who feared his name, and loved the Lord Jesus in sincerity. This prayer, God was pleased, graciously to answer. In the beginning of June, 1765, he received a letter from his brother, to say, he had engaged such lodgings for him at Huntingdon, as he thought would suit him. Though this was farther from Cambridge, where his brother then resided, than he wished, yet, as he was now in perfect health, and as his circumstances required a less expensive way of life than his present, he resolved to take them, and arranged his affairs accordingly.

On the 17th of June, 1765, having spent more than eigh teen months at St. Albans, partly in the bondage of despair, and partly in the liberty of the gospel, he took leave of the place, at four in the morning, and set out for Cambridge, taking with him the servant who had attended him while he

remained with Dr. Cotton, and who had maintained an affectionate watchfulness over him during the whole of his illness, waiting upon him, on all occasions, with the greatest patience, and invariably treating him with the greatest kindness. The mingled emotions of his mind on leaving the place were painful and pleasing; he regarded it as the place of second nativity; he had here passed from death unto life -had been favoured with much leisure to study the word of God-had enjoyed much happiness in conversing upon its great truths with his esteemed physician; and he left it with considerable reluctance; offering up many prayers to God, that his richest blessings might rest upon its worthy manager, and upon all its inmates.

The state of his mind on this occasion he thus affectionately describes :-I remembered the pollution which is in the world and the sad share I had in it myself, and my heart ached at the thought of entering it again. The blessed God had endowed me with some concern for his glory, and I was fearful of hearing his name traduced by oaths and blasphemies, the common language of this highly-favoured but ungrateful country; but the promise of God, Fear not, I am with thee,' was my comfort. I passed the whole of my journey in fervent prayer to God, earnestly but silently entreating Him to be my guardian and counsellor in all my future journey through life, and to bring me in safety, when he had accomplished his purposes of grace and mercy towards me, to eternal glory."

CHAPTER IV.

Removal to Huntingdon-Sensations there-Engages in public worship for the first time after his recovery-Delight it afforded him Commences a regular correspondence with some of his friends-Pleasure he experienced in writing on religious subjects Anxiety of his mind for the spiritual welfare of his former associates Attributes their continuance in sin chiefly to infidelity-Folly of this-Beauty of the Scriptures-Absurdity of attributing events to second causes, instead of to the overruling providence of God-Dependence upon Divine direction the best support in affliction Forms some new connections-Becomes acquainted with the Unwin family-Happiness he experienced in their company.

AFTER spending a few days with his brother at Cambridge, Cowper repaired to Huntingdon, and entered upon his new abode, on Saturday, the 22d of June, 1765; taking with him the servant he had brought from St. Albans, to whom he had become strongly attached for the great kindness he had shown him in his affliction. His brother, who had accompanied him thither, had no sooner left him, than finding himself alone, surrounded by strangers, in a strange place, his spirits began to sink, and he felt like a traveller in the midst of an inhospitable desert; without a friend to comfort, or a guide to direct him. He walked forth, towards the close of the day, in this melancholy frame of mind, and having wandered about a mile from the town, he found his heart so powerfully drawn towards the Lord, that on gaining a secret and retired nook in the corner of a field, he kneeled down under a bank, and poured out his complaints unto God. It pleased his merciful Father to hear him; the load was removed from his mind, and he was enabled to trust in Him that careth for the stranger; to roll his burden upon Him, and to rest assured, that wherever God might cast his lot, he would still be his guardian and shield.

The following day he went to church, for the first time after his recovery. Throughout the whole of the service, his emotions were so powerfully affecting, that it was with much