garded in Hartfordshire, except by brief Letters on pecuniary concerns in 1779. But in the spring of the following year, a Letter to Mr. Hill abundantly proves that he had regained the free exercise of his talents, both serious and sportive.

LETTER XXIII.

To JOSEPH HILL, Esqr.

Olney, May 6, 1780.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

I am much obliged to you for your

speedy answer to my queries. I know less of the Law than a country Attorney, yet sometimes I think I have almost as much business. My former connexion with the profession has got wind, and though I earnestly profess, and protest, and proclaim it abroad that I know nothing of the matter, they cannot be persuaded to believe that a head once endued with a legal perriwig, can ever be deficient in those natural endowments it is supposed to cover. I have had the good fortune to be once or twice in the right, which added to the cheapness of a gratuitous counsel, has advanced my credit to a degree I never expected to attain in the capacity of a Lawyer. Indeed if two of the wisest in the science of jurisprudence may give opposite opinions upon the same point, which does not unfrequently happen, it seems to be a matter of indifference whether a man answers by rule or at a venture. He that stumbles upon the right side of the question, is just as useful to his client as he that

arrives

arrives at the same end by regular approaches, and is conducted to the mark he aims at by the greatest authorities.

These violent attacks of a distemper so often fatal, are very alarming to all who esteem and respect the Chancellor as he deserves. A life of confinement, and of anxious attention to important objects, where the habit is bilious to such a terrible degree, threatens to be but a short one; and I wish he may not be made a text for men of reflection to moralize upon, affording a conspicuous instance of the transient and fading nature of all human accomplishments and attainments.

Yours affectionately,

W. COWPER.

At this time his attention was irresistibly recalled to his Cousin, Mrs. Cowper, by hearing that she was deeply afflicted; and he wrote to her the following Letter on the loss of her Brother, Frederick Madan, a soldier, who died in America, after having distinguished himself by poetical talents, as well as by military virtues.

LETTER XXIV.

To Mrs. COWPER.

MY DEAR COUSIN,

May 10, 1780.

I do not write to comfort you; that

office is not likely to be well performed by one, who has no com

fort

fort for himself; nor to comply with an impertinent ceremony, which in general, might well be spared upon such occasions: but because I would not seem indifferent to the concerns of those I have so much reason to esteem and love. If I did not sorrow for your Brother's death, I should expect that nobody would for mine: When I knew him he was much beloved, and I doubt not continued to be so. To live and die together is the lot of a few happy families, who hardly know what a separation means, and one sepulchre serves them all; but the ashes of our kindred are dispersed indeed. Whether the American Gulph has swallowed up any other of my relations I know not, it has made many mourners.

Believe me, my dear Cousin, though after long silence which perhaps nothing less than the present concern could have prevailed with me to interrupt, as much as ever,

Your affectionate Kinsman,

W. C.

The next Letter to Mr. Hill affords a striking proof of Cowper's compassionate feelings towards the poor around him.

ear between your finger and thumb, you can hardly improve the

opportunity

opportunity to better purpose, than if you should whisper into it the voice of compassion and lenity to the Lace-makers. I am an eye witness of their poverty, and do know, that hundreds in this little Town, are upon the point of starving, and that the most unremitting industry is but barely sufficient to keep them from it. I know that the Bill by which they would have been so fatally affected is thrown out, but Lord Stormont threatens them with another; and if another like it should pass, they are undone. We lately sent a Petition from hence to Lord Dartmouth; I signed it and am sure the contents are true. The purport of it was to inform him that there are very near 1200 Lace-makers in this beggarly Town, the most of whom had reason enough, while the Bill was in agitation, to look upon every loaf they bought, as the last they should be ever able to earn. I can never think it good policy to incur the certain inconvenience of ruining 30,000, in order to prevent a remote and possible damage though to a much greater number. The measure is like a scythe, and the poor Lace-makers are the sickly crop that trembles before the edge of it. The prospect of peace with America, is like the streak of dawn in their horizon, but this Bill is like a black cloud behind it, that threatens their hope of a comfortable day with utter extinction.

I did not perceive 'till this moment that I had tacked two similies together, a practice, which though warranted by the example

of

of Homer, and allowable in an Epic Poem, is rather luxuriant and licentious in a Letter; lest I should add another, I conclude.

His affectionate effort in renewing his correspondence with Mrs. Cowper, to whom he had been accustomed to pour forth his heart without reserve, appears to have had a beneficial effect on his reviving spirits. This pathetic Letter was followed, in the course of two months, by a Letter of a more lively cast, in which the Reader will find some touches of his native humour, and a vein of pleasantry peculiar to himself.

LETTER XXVI.

To Mrs. COWPER, Park-Street, Grosvenor Square.

MY DEAR COUSIN,

July 20, 1780.

Mr. Newton having desired me to be

of the party, I am come to meet him. You see me sixteen years older, at the least, than when I saw you last; but the effects of time seem to have taken place rather on the outside of my head, than within it. What was brown is become grey, but what was foolish remains foolish still. Green fruit must rot before it ripens, if the season is such as to afford it nothing but cold winds and dark clouds, that interrupt every ray of sunshine. My days steal away silently, and march on (as poor mad King Lear would have made