sources permitted; these he reserved for the embellishment of his favourite house at Cardington.

On his return to England, as London still disagreed with his health, he went to live at Stoke-Newington, quietly as an invalid. Even at that early age, Howard was too much master of himself, to fall into the customary errors of youth. His pursuits and pleasures had the gravity of manhood. He was surrounded by books, he attended to his religious exercises, he deeply interested himself in the more familiar branches of natural philosophy, he studied the theory of medicine, in which he acquired much knowledge, afterwards so useful to him during his visits of mercy. He lived in the most abstemious manner, considering that he thereby benefited his health. He subdued his physical frame by the power of his will.

John Howard's father was a Calvinistic dissenter, a strict Puritan. The son, always religiously disposed, now resolved publicly to avow his faith and to confess Christ before men. He was therefore admitted as a member of the Independent body, under the cure of Mr Meredith Townsend of Stoke-Newington. soon after displayed his charitable disposition by starting a subscription to purchase a dwelling-house for the minister, to which he himself contributed fifty pounds.

He

He lodged at Stoke-Newington with a widow of fifty-two, a Mrs Loidore; he was then twenty-five. She showed him the greatest care and attention, and proved herself to be an active and able nurse during

a serious attack of illness he had in her house. His life was daily despaired of, but in the end he rallied. It was to her constant and considerate devotion to him that he attributed his recovery. For long did he meditate on the means by which he could express his gratitude to this good woman. At last he came to a strange resolution-viz., that the only fitting return he could think of was to make her his wife. She was naturally astonished, and raised various objections as the inequality of their years, the difference · of their fortunes, social position, and so forth, but to no purpose. Howard's mind was made up, he gave her twenty-four hours for consideration, threatening in the event of her refusal, to go abroad. She consented at last, they were married, and contrary to general expectation, neither party to the contract, had reason to regret it. However, their union was but short. She had never, all her life, known the blessing of a day's good health; now she gradually failed, and died in 1755, in the third year of their marriage, sincerely deplored by her sorrowing husband.

The week of her death was a turning point in Howard's life. From private, he was called away to public griefs. Before his wife was buried in the churchyard of St Mary's, Whitechapel, the news arrived in England that Lisbon had been suddenly destroyed by earthquake and fire. Sixty thousand of the poor inhabitants had perished. The demon of terror had never so speedily and powerfully stirred the earth Hearts in England warmed towards the sufferers.

Private persons sent aid in various ways, and Parliament, to its honour, though in the midst of a great war, and in a time of scarcity at home, granted a relief of one hundred thousand pounds.

Howard, widowed and bereaved, felt called to sorrows greater than his own. No plan occurred to him, but he felt that in the midst of so much misery, where the poor were dying in their tents from hunger, cold, and sickness, strong hands and willing minds would soon find their duty; the great point was to go, to see the work for himself. He broke up his establishment at Stoke-Newington, distributing the greater portion of his furniture among the poor, and settling the whole of his late wife's little property on her sister; then, attended by a single servant, he took his berth on board the Lisbon packet, the " Hanover." All Europe was entering on war. England and France were already fighting on the high seas and in every part of the world, and the narrow seas were swept by innumerable privateers.

But John Howard feared neither storms nor pirates, his heart was set on the relief of the sick, the hungry, and the desolate; but those scenes of misery were not to be reached. His hand was to find other work to do the "Hanover" was captured by a French privateer, the crew and passengers were all carried into Brest, and treated with the utmost barbarity. Before reaching that port, Howard was kept without food and even water, for forty hours. When the prisoners were at length landed, he was confined with

many others in the castle of the town, in a dark, damp, and filthy dungeon, where, after several hours a leg of mútton was at last brought and thrown at them— like flesh to wild beasts-which the starving captives tore to pieces, with their hands and teeth, devouring it with almost ferocious voracity. In this dungeon, thus fed, the prisoners were detained for a week, compelled to sleep on the cold floor; they were then removed and separated, Howard being sent to Carpaix, and his servant to Dinan. During his imprisonment, he gained ample evidence of English captives being treated with such barbarity, "that many hundreds had perished, and that thirty-six were buried in a hole at Dinan in one day." Unhappily it cannot be denied that the same barbarities were also being perpetrated on the English coast, towards the enemy.

Impressed with the mild but dignified bearing of his prisoner, the gaoler to whose custody Howard was committed, liberated him, and allowed him to reside in the town, on his word being given that he would not escape. He was housed, fed, and supplied with money by the person with whom he lodged, and suffered to depart for England with no other guarantee for repayment, than his own promise. The French government permitted him to return, that he might, with greater chance of success, persuade that of England to make a suitable exchange for him, on simply pledging his honour that if unsuccessful in the attempt, he would instantly return to his captivity.

On arriving in London, he would receive no con

gratulations on the recovery of his freedom, till the conditions on which he had accepted his liberty, were complied with. After much trouble, and very painful delays, the necessary exchange was effected. He now used every means in his power to procure the release of his fellow-captives, some of whom were at Dinan, others at Morlaix and Carpaix; he made a pathetic appeal to the Commissioners of Sick and Wounded Seamen, portraying the miseries and privations to which the gallant but unfortunate men, were exposed. An arrangement was made between the courts of England and France, and Howard soon had the pleasure of knowing, that his efforts had caused the restoration of his fellow-prisoners in Brittany to their liberty and country, and had mitigated the miseries of many others. "The friend of the captive," as he was already called, had the satisfaction of receiving the thanks of the commissioners, for his timely information.

He now retired to Cardington, which henceforth became his home. He devised plans for the comfort of his tenants, administered to the wants of the neighbouring poor, and amused himself by scientific researches. His life was one of quiet study, and practical benevolence. On 25th April 1758 he married a second time. This match was altogether a suitable one. Henrietta Leeds of Croxton, in Cambridgeshire, was about his own age, and of his own social rank. Amiable and ardently attached to her husband, she cheerfully seconded all his plans of benevolence. Within a short period of her marriage she sold the