which I proceeded. By this means I entered into conversation with the doctor, laughed at his stories, and told him some of my own to match them; still, however, carrying a sentence of irrevocable doom in my heart." It was now five months since Cowper had settled at St. Albans, and the doctor, observing the seeming alteration, believed that his invalid was on the high road to recovery. Three more weary months, however, were to elapse before any real change was to take place. "I remember," says Cowper, "about this time a diabolical species of regret that found harbour in my wretched heart. I was sincerely sorry that I had not seized every opportunity of giving scope to my wicked appetites, and even envied those who, being departed to their own place before me, had the consolation to reflect that they had well earned their miserable inheritance by indulging their sensuality without restraint. Oh, merciful God! what a Tophet of pollution is the human soul! and wherein do we differ from the devils, unless Thy grace prevent us?" 26. The Clouds begin to Break. Eight months had passed, and Dr. Cotton, believing that his patient's health was much mended, reported his condition to the Rev. John Cowper. On the 25th of July John paid a visit to St. Albans, but to his disappointment found his brother almost as silent and reserved as ever. To the question how he found himself, came the disappointing reply, "As much better as despair can make me." They then went together into the garden, and Cowper expressed to his brother the oft-repeated assurance of sudden judgment. John protested that it was all a delusion, and protested so strongly, that the poor convalescent could not help giving some attention to him. A ray of hope shot into his heart, and, bursting into tears, he cried out, "If it be a delusion, then I am the happiest of beings." "We dined together," says Cowper, "and I "and I spent the afternoon in a more cheerful manner. Something seemed to whisper to me every moment, Still there is mercy.'" This scene in Dr. Cotton's garden at St. Albans was one of the most important in Cowper's life. It marks a turning-point, for though John stayed only one day, his company served to put to flight a thousand deliriums and delusions, and the next morning Cowper was a new creature. Sam Roberts, Dr. Cotton's man, who had been exceedingly attentive to him, observed, with others, the great alteration for the better, and expressed great joy on the occasion. Not long after, walking in the garden, Cowper found upon a seat there a Bible that had probably been laid in his way purposely. He opened it upon the story of Lazarus, and he saw "so much benevolence, and mercy, and goodness, and sympathy with miserable men in our Saviour's conduct," that he was moved almost to tears, "little thinking," he says, "that it was an exact type of the mercy which Jesus was on the point of extending towards myself." Slowly the cloud of horror which had so long hung over him moved away, and every day brought fresh hope. The next time he opened a Bible it happened to be at the third chapter of Romans and 25th verse: "Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in His blood, to declare His righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God." "Immediately I received strength to believe, and the full beams of the Sun of Righteousness shone upon me. I saw the sufficiency of the atonement He had made, my pardon sealed in His blood, and all the fulness and completeness of His justification. In a moment I believed and received the gospel." Henceforth all is bright and cheerful. Instead of horrid nightmares he had sound sleep and sweet dreams, instead of spending his days in moody silence he could now enjoy cheerful conversation, and his Bible that had so long lain unopened now became his constant companion. In place of unspeakable wretchedness had come transcendent happiness. To rejoice day and night was all his employment. He was even "too happy to sleep much," thinking it "lost time that was spent in slumber." In the "Song of Mercy and Judgment," already referred to, and written about this time, he sings: "Lord, I love the habitation Where the Saviour's honour dwells; Grace divine, how sweet the sound, Hard to bear and passing thought. Sweet the sound of grace divine, 'L' He said, "have seen thee grieving, All at once my chains were broken, Since that hour, in hope of glory, To Thy Est ning saints around. Sweet the sound of grace divine, Sweet the grace which makes me Thine." We learn from the diary of the Rev. A. Maddock that the works of the Rev. James Hervey were at this time very helpful to Cowper, who indeed went so far, in conversation with Mr. Maddock, as to ascribe his conversion to them. Writing to his cousin, Mrs. Cowper, April 17, 1766, Cowper mentions his great partiality to Hervey, whom he considers "one of the most scriptural writers in the world." Ever watchful and apprehensive for his patient's welfare, Dr. Cotton was now alarmed lest the sudden transition from despair to joy should terminate in a fatal frenzy, but that anxiety presently ceased, and the good physician became satisfied that the cure was a sound one. Cowper, however, was in no haste to remove, and he stayed at St. Albans twelve months after his recovery. During that time he and the doctor had together many helpful religious conversations. "I was treated by him," says Cowper, who always rejoiced that he had been placed at St. Albans, "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 on the subject without reverse, I could hardly have found a fitter person for the purpose. The doctor, in fact, well merited the niche which his patient afterwards made for him in the temple of fame by the grateful allusion in the poem on Hope. As before observed, Cowper had now taken up his pen again, and doubtless he and his literary friend and physician found much pleasure in writing together. The hymn commencing, "How blest Thy creature is, O God," which he entitled "The Happy Change," is indeed a striking contrast in the spirit it breathes of serene happiness to the sapphics written in the black days gone by. Among those who inquired after him at St. Albans were Sir Thomas and Lady Hesketh; and Cowper would gladly now have renewed correspondence with his dear cousin, only he thought well to "perform quarantine first," both for his own sake and because he thought his letters would be more satisfactory to her from other quarter. any Of his life at St. Albans during his twelve months' convalescence Cowper does not give us much account, but he now and then refers to incidents that at that time interested him. The death, for example, of the celebrated Dr. Young, author of "Night Thoughts," at the neighbouring village of Welwyn, on April 12, |