his most ordinary sermons; for the eloquence of our friend was, pre-eminently, that of the heart. It was the oratory of nature: and I have often remarked that, in any age, in any country, in any language, and under all circumstances, he would have been the same magic master of the human heart that we felt him to be."

In early life, Summerfield was a frequent attendant on the preaching of Thomas Spenser, who, by his youth, his piety, and his eloquence, produced such decided impressions on the inhabitants of Liverpool. When that admirable young man met an early death by drowning, while bathing in a stream, and a well written account of his life was published, Summerfield read it with great interest and delight, and thereby increased the spark of piety already kindling in his own heart; and was filled with anxious desires to adopt the same sacred profession. Premature death has, in every age of the world, often been the fate of genius and of virtue. Virgil has celebrated, in immortal song, the early removal of the virtuous and gifted son of Octavia from the idolatry of Rome, before he occupied the throne of Cæsar: and the Christian world has often been required to bow, in profound submission, to the mysterious providence which has plucked from their orbit, in the morning of life, many of the brightest suns that have ever arisen to delight and bless mankind.

WILLIAM COWPER.

I HAVE seen an article containing a quotation from, The Task, the author of which is described by the writer of the article as, "The Misanthropic Poet." Cowper has long continued to be a favourite with the literary and religious public; and they will not consent that misanthropy shall be considered as a part of his character. If he had been a misanthrope, literature would never have been enriched by those works upon which his genius has conferred immortality. A misanthrope may possess high intellectual endowments; but his efforts will be simply intellectual, without the moral emotions which address themselves to the sympathies of the great family of man. Diogenes, in his tub, might have given to the world a great work on abstract science; but he could never have lamented, in the delightful strains of Cowper, over the misery and oppression under which man is made to mourn; or have led his readers to repose by the pure fountains of which they drink who hold communion with Nature,

That such was the character of Cowper, is abundantly evident from his poems, his correspondence, and his friendships. I do not know an author to whom I would not as soon ascribe misanthropy as to him,

Take the following well-known lines as an evidence of the kindness of his nature:

"O for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumours of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,

Might never reach me more! my ear is pained
My soul is sick with ev'ry day's report

Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart;
It does not feel for man; the natural bond
Of brotherhood is sever'd, as the flax
That falls asunder at the touch of fire."

This is the quintessence of benevolence; and almost every page of his works contains evidence of the same kind and loving nature.

If we consider his Christian character, do we not find it to be most beautiful? It was too often dimmed by interposing clouds: but, afterwards, it shone with more lustre because of the temporary obscuration. The character of the sun is not altered when, for a day or a week, he is concealed from our view. The devotional poetry of Cowper is admired by Christians of all denominations. Penitence, reverence, humility, and the desire of holiness, breathe in every line. All the objects of animate and inanimate nature are so many conductors to lead his thoughts up to the Good Being who made them all. And is it possible that he, whose heart was filled with such love for the Great Creator, could have been a misanthrope-a hater of his fellow? Religion and misanthropy are perfect incompatibles. "Shew me a man," said Lactantius, "in whose heart the fury of the tiger is found,

and, by a few words of the Book of God, I will make him gentle as a lamb." Such is the invariable effect of Christianity, in all ages, on those who feel its power. Misanthropy cannot dwell in the bosom of the Christian man, of whom we may say, "Happy is thy cottage, and happy the sharer of it, and happy are the little lambs which sport themselves around thee."

Look at his friendships. No man ever had more devoted friends. It was the misfortune of Cowper that he never formed that domestic association which might have prevented, or would have mitigated, the developement of his constitutional melancholy. But, he numbered among his friends the Unwins, the Thorntons, the Throckmortons, John Newton, and the sprightly Lady Austen to whose animated companionship the world is indebted for, The Task, which placed its author at the head of the poets of the day, and proved that excellence might exist in English versification, although the writer did not imitate the artificial elegance of Pope. These friends cherished him, with great kindness, amidst all his gloom and miseries; and he remained an inmate of the Unwin family more than thirty years. Do these facts prove him to have been a misanthrope?

The great defect in the character of Cowper was melancholy, not misanthropy. The cause of this melancholy has been a subject of much discussion with the biographers of this great poet. Medical men understand how intimately the health of the mind is connected with that of the body: how a slight defect in physical organization may entail acute and protracted