With the name of Mrs. Cowper is connected an incident which, occurred at this time, and which illustrates the propensity to self-inspection and self-revelation which Cowper had in common with Rousseau.  Huntingdon, like other little towns, was all eyes and gossip; the new comer was a mysterious stranger who kept himself aloof from the general society, and he naturally became the mark for a little stone-throwing.  Young Unwin happening to be passing near “the Park” on his way from London to Huntingdon, Cowper gave him an introduction to its lady, in a letter to whom he afterwards disclosed his secret motive.  “My dear Cousin,—­You sent my friend Unwin home to us charmed, with your kind reception of him, and with everything he saw at the Park.  Shall I once more give you a peep into my vile and deceitful heart?  What motive do you think lay at the bottom of my conduct when I desired him to call upon you?  I did not suspect, at first, that pride and vainglory had any share in it, but quickly after I had recommended the visit to him, I discovered, in that fruitful soil, the very root of the matter.  You know I am a stranger here; all such are suspected characters, unless they bring their credentials with them.  To this moment, I believe, it is a matter of speculation in the place, whence I came, and to whom I belong.  Though my friend, you may suppose, before I was admitted an inmate here, was satisfied that I was not a mere vagabond, and has, since that time, received more convincing proofs of my sponsibility; yet I could not resist the opportunity of furnishing him with ocular demonstration of it, by introducing him to one of my most splendid connexions; that when he hears me called ‘that fellow Cowper,’ which has happened heretofore, he may be able, upon unquestionable evidence, to assert my gentlemanhood, and relieve me from the weight of that opprobrious appellation.  Oh pride! pride! it deceives with the subtlety of a serpent, and seems to walk erect, though it crawls upon the earth.  How will it twist and twine itself about to get from under the Cross, which it is the glory of our Christian calling to be able to bear with patience and goodwill.  They who can guess at the heart of a stranger,—­and you especially, who are of a compassionate temper,—­will be more ready, perhaps, to excuse me, in this instance, than I can be to excuse myself.  But, in good truth, it was abominable pride of heart, indignation, and vanity, and deserves no better name.”

Once more, however obsolete Cowper’s belief, and the language in which he expresses it may have become for many of us, we must take it as his philosophy of life.  At this time, at all events, it was a source of happiness.  “The storm being passed, a quiet and peaceful serenity of soul succeeded,” and the serenity in this case was unquestionably produced in part by the faith.