over with rude grown briers,' and big enough for a man to stand upright in, if he desired a shelter.+

PAINTER.-Aye, and we have seen the times that such a cave had been worth a king's crown, when he that was near to losing one, was compelled to hide himself from his pursuers.

ANGLER. Let us pray God that the nation may rest from her troubles ;-that we may sit every man under his vine and under his figtree; and angle when he will, in peace beneath the shade of sycamine trees, free from all contentions and jars.

PAINTER. This, I hope, may be our happy lot; and now we have six braces and a half of trouts; so if you please, let us back to Alston

Titus Andron. Act 2. Sc. 4.

+ Sir John Hawkins, in his life of Cotton, states that a natural excavation in the rocky Hill on which Beres'ford Hall stands, is shewn as Mr. Cotton's occasional 'refuge from his creditors' and to this Cotton himself probably alludes in the following lines of his Ode to Retirement.

O my beloved Caves! from Dog-star heats,
And hotter persecution's safe retreats,
'What safety, privacy, what true delight

In the artificial night

"Your gloomy entrails make, 'Have I taken, do I take!

'How oft, when grief has made me fly

To hide me from society,

Even of my dearest friends have I

In your recesses friendly shade

All my sorrows open laid,

And my most secret woes entrusted to your privacy.'

Occasional Poems, p. 138.-ED.

fields; for we have two miles to walk, and the sun is going down.

ANGLER. I am quite willing to be at home, for I begin to tire; here is the way.

PAINTER. So we are come again to the steep hill by Narrow Dale: I wish we were past it.

ANGLER.-There are some houses;-and a woman standing at her cottage-door-shall we follow the example of good Dean Nowel, and make her happy with the contribution of some of our fishes?

PAINTER. I had the same thought.

ANGLER. Here, good woman; will it please you accept this couple of trouts, and I dare believe you'll know how to cook them.

COTTAGER. I humbly thank you, gentlemen, and it is not the first time I have dressed trouts for noble Mr. Cotton bestows a great part of his fish upon us. He hath a charitable heart towards his poor neighbours and for gentlemen anglers, he loves to see them take their sport in his river.

ANGLER. That I am sure of-we wish you a good evening.

COTTAGER. Your servant, kind gentlefolk; and I thank you too.

ANGLER.-So-we are arrived once more at the King's Head, and there is mine host at his door looking about for us. Well, Mr. Marsh!

HOST.-Sirs, you are welcome; and I hope you have found good sport in our river Dove.

ANGLER. Exceeding good; see, here are some brace of trouts for supper: and now we'll

rest ourselves on this bench till they be ready.

HOST.-I'll bring them in a trice, for the kettle is set upon a quick fire of wood, and the liquor's boiling up.'

ANGLER. That's well! and, Host, whilst 'your fish is boiling, beat up the butter for 6 your sauce.'

HOST.-It shall be done, Sir! and 'I'll strew it plentifully with shaved horseradish and a little pounded ginger.'

ANGLER. -He remembers every word how Mr. Cotton taught VIATOR to dress a trout or grayling, which questionless is of all other the best way.

PAINTER.-That I believe.—

And here comes mine Host again with the trouts: they are served as quickly as we could. desire-so do you say grace, brother.-Amen.

HOST.-Sir, They are good-sized fish, and exceeding well conditioned.

ANGLER. The biggest is my brother's, that he took in the Pike Pool, after you were gone home; and he has declared it to be his purpose, from this day, to call himself a scholar of Mr. Walton, and endeavour to learn the secrets of our craft.

HOST.-Indeed, Sir! I am heartily glad of this for I have heard Mr. Walton and Mr. Cotton say, when men are quietly employed a-fishing, it teaches them to lay aside uneasy thoughts and cares, being a pastime that is full of hope; and this gentleman gives promise to be a skilful artist with his angle.

ANGLER.-True-and I'll drink his health in a glass of Staffordshire ale-so make us a loving cup, with toasted bread and sugar,, the same as yesterday.

HOST.-Sir! it shall be done as you desire.— And quickly.

ANGLER.-That is well-come brother, here's

to you and your honest Master, Mr. Izaak Walton, and I will not forget Mr. Charles Cotton, for you must now look upon him as an adopted brother.

PAINTER.-Trust me, I want no persuasions to love Mr. Cotton, who hath provided such delights by the river Dove, and made them all 'sacred to anglers;' my mind is full of the train of those pleasures. And now resolve me this question: Why may we not divert ourselves another day or two on the margin of this fine river?

ANGLER.-Are you in earnest?

PAINTER.-Marry am I; and if you are so inclined, I'll be wholly disposed of by you.

ANGLER.-Why, that's brave! I accept your challenge; and seeing you have abandoned yourself to my conduct, I will persuade you to walk back to the town of Ashbourne through the whole valley of Dove Dale.

PAINTER.-That is agreed. Oh! I am full of joyful thoughts of rare angling; and perchance we may yet find some beautiful landskips; nevertheless, methinks, we have seen the choicest parts of the river: is it not so?

ANGLER. Of that I shall ask leave to say nothing; do you but wait till to-morrow, and

when you are come unto the lower streams towards Ashbourne, I will remit the question to your own free judgment.

PAINTER.-Well, I have suddenly a thought come into my mind.

ANGLER.-What is that? I hope it is to give us a song, for I know you have not been denied a voice or an ear; so tune up your music, and after that I'll make some attempts myself, and sing an innocent song.

PAINTER.-Anon-anon-but now tell me, why should not we two happy anglers, that have found our walking legs up and down the slopes of these glades, stretch them again tomorrow morning, and go to the higher parts of the Dove, and see how this river springs from a contemptible fountain,' that Mr. Cotton says, he can cover with his hat.'

ANGLER.-On the word of an angler, you are the strangest man that ever I saw ! Let me tell you, the path there and back is near upon twenty miles,

PAINTER.-What care I for twenty miles, so I may but drink a cup from that fountain of the Dove to the health of my master, Mr. Izaak Walton?

Oh! the gallant fisher's life,

It is the best of any;

"Tis full of pleasure, void of strife,
And 'tis beloved by many.