Stafford, for certain charitable purposes;-this son, upon his attainment of that age without having married, sent to the mayor of Staf ford, acquainting him, that the estate was improved to almost double its former value, and that upon his decease the corporation would become entitled thereto.

This worthy person died, at the age of sixty-nine, on the 29th day of December, 1719; and lies interred in the cathedral church of Salisbury.

Anne, the daughter of old Isaac Walton, and sister of the above person, was married to Dr. William Hawkins, a divine and a prebendary of Winchester, mentioned above; for whom Walton, in his will, expresses great affection, declaring that he loved him as his own son: he died the 17th day of July, 1691, aged fifty-eight, leaving issue, by his said wife, a daughter named Anne, and a son named William. The daughter was never married, but lived with her uncle, the canon, as his housekeeper, and the management of his domestic concerns : she remained settled at Salisbury after his decease, until the 27th of November, 1728, when she died, and lies buried in the cathedral.

William, the son of Dr. Hawkins, and brother of the last mentioned Anne, was bred to the study of the law; and from the Middle Temple, called to the bar; but attained to no degree of eminence in his profession. He wrote and published in 8vo, anno 1713, A short Account of the Life of Bishop Ken, with a small specimen, in order to a publication of his Works at large; and, accordingly, in the year 1721, they were published, in four volumes 8vo. From this Account, some of the above particulars respecting the family connections of Walton are taken.

I am informed, that this gentleman for several years laboured under the affliction of incurable blindness, and that he died on the 29th day of November, 1748.

A few moments before his death, our Author made his will, which appears-by the peculiarity of many expressions contained in it, as well as by the hand-to be of his own writing. As there is something characteristic in this last solemn act of his life, it has been thought proper to insert an authentic copy thereof in this account of him; postponing it, only to the following reflections on his life and character. Upon a retrospect to the foregoing particulars, and a view of some others mentioned in a subsequent letter1 and in his Will, it will appear that Walton possessed that essential ingredient in human felicity, mens sana in corpore sano; for in his eighty-third year he professes a resolution to begin a pilgrimage of more than a hundred miles into a country the most difficult and hazardous that can be conceived for an aged man to travel in, to visit his friend Cotton, and doubtless to enjoy his favourite diversion of angling in the delightful streams of the

(1) See his Letter to Charles Cotton, Esq. prefixed to the Second Part. (2) To this journey he seems to have been invited by Mr. Cotton, in the following beautiful Stanzas, printed with other of his Poems in 1689, 8vo. and addressed to his dear and most worthy friend Mr. Isaac Walton.

Whilst in this cold and blust'ring clime,

Where bleak winds howl and tempests roar,

We pass away the roughest time

Has been of many years before;

Dove, and on the ninetieth anniversary of his birth-day, he, by his Will, declares himself to be of perfect memory.1

As to his worldly circumstances-notwithstanding the adverse accident of his being obliged, by the troubles of the times, to quit London and his occupation-they appear to have been commensurate, as well to the wishes as the wants of any but a covetous and intemperate man ; and, in his relations and connections, such a concurrence of circumstances is visible, as it would be almost presumption to pray for.

For-not to mention the patronage of those many prelates and dignitaries of the church, men of piety and learning, with whom he lived in a close intimacy and friendship; or, the many ingenious and worthy persons with whom he corresponded and conversed; or, the

Whilst from the most tempestuous nooks
The chillest blasts our peace invade,
And by great rains our smallest brooks
Are almost navigable made;

Whilst all the ills are so improv❜d,
Of this dead quarter of the year,
That even you, so much belov'd,

We would not now wish with us here:

In this estate, I say, it is

Some comfort to us to suppose,

That, in a better clime than this,

You, our dear friend, have more repose;

And some delight to me the while,

Though nature now does weep in rain,
To think that I have seen her smile,
And haply may I do again.

If the all-ruling Power please
We live to see another May,
We'll recompense an age of these
Foul days in one fine fishing day.
We then shall have a day or two,
Perhaps a week wherein to try
What the best master's hand can do
With the most deadly killing flie:
A day, with not too bright a beam,
A warm, but not a scorching sun,
A southern gale to curl the stream,
And, master, half our work is done.
There, whilst behind some bush we wait
The scaly people to betray,-
We'll prove it just, with treacherous bait
To make the preying Trout our prey.
And think ourselves, in such an hour,
Happier than those, though not so high,
Who, like Leviathans, devour

Of meaner men the smaller fry.

This, my best friend, at my poor home
Shall be our pastime and our theme;
But then-should you not deign to come,
You make all this a flatt'ring dream.

(1) These, it must be owned, are words of course in a Will: but had the fact been otherwise, he would have been unable to make such a judicious disposition of his worldly estate as he had done, or with his own hand to write so long an instrument as his Will.

esteem and respect, testified by printed letters and eulogiums, which his writings had procured him-to be matched with a woman of an exalted understanding, and a mild and humble temper; to have children of good inclinations and sweet and amiable dispositions, and to see them well settled; is not the lot of every man that, preferring a social to a solitary life, chooses to become the head of a family.

But blessings like these are comparatively light, when weighed against those of a mind stored, like his, with a great variety of useful knowledge, and a temper that could harbour no malevolent thought or insiduous design, nor stoop to the arts of fraud or flattery,1 but dispose him to love and virtuous friendship, to the enjoyments of innocent delights and recreations, to the contemplation of the works of Nature, and the ways of Providence, and to the still sublimer pleasures of rational piety.

If, possessing all these benefits and advantages, external and internal, (together with a mental constitution, so happily attempered as to have been to him a perpetual fountain of cheerfulness,2) we can entertain a doubt that Walton was one of the happiest of men, we estimate them at a rate too low; and shew ourselves ignorant of the nature of that felicity to which it is possible, even in this life, for virtuous and good men, with the blessing of God, to arrive.

(1) Vide infra, in his Will.

(2) See his Preface, wherein he declares that though he can be serious at seasonable times, he is a lover of innocent, harmless mirth, and that his book is a picture of his own disposition.

Being a Difcourfe of FISH and FISHING, Not unworthy the perufal of moft Anglers.

Simon Peter faid, Igo a fifbing and they faid, We alfo wil go with thee. John 23.3.

London, Printed by T.Maxey for Rich: MARRIOT, in S.Dunflans Church-Yard, Fleet street.1653.