mountains along the peaceful hea vens. wriggling about, his own mother would not know him, so enshrouded is he in sand. That comes of one's suffering himself to be led by the nose - even in retirement-during these troubled times. Yes, Jonathan, about a pounder. The wallet is empty of all viands now-Jonathan-and in the chapel alehouse it may happen that the sole fare may be but ham and eggs. You see this crutch. We unscrew the cross, and out of the bole emerges a fishing-rod, of which the pieces may be put up so as to suit minnow, trout, grilse, or fish. Now for trout. One of the seals dangling at our watch-chain is a reel. 'Tis an ensnaring seal, Jonathan-and on all our love-letters it leaves its irresistible, four horse-hairs thick, 'twould ble impress. A silk reel-line you observe, Jonathan, and gut like gossamer, to whose invisibility in water are attached the murderous midges with black half-heckle on the yellow bodies, and brown mallard wings, adjusted by the microscopic eye and fairy finger of Margaretthat is, Mrs Widow Phin. Not a breath of air-the river is low-and bright the sun-nor will he reach for an hour to come those castellated clouds. But let us lay our lures among the lucid murmurs, and in a minute shall you see the silver-shiners in various sizes dancing on the gravel or the greensward, up from the not unsuccessful imitation of the minnow to what might seemnay, may be the salmon's self. Aye-there are two to begin withone at the tail-fly, and one at the topbobber. We always angle with five hooks, Jonathan, on an occasion like this, when to garnish the grosser we desire some fry. Why, they seem smoults! How can that be in the Duddon in May? Trouts. But born and bred in this gravelly shallow, their scales are as silver, and you almost suppose you see through them, as you hold up their twisting slipperiness between you and the sun. Ha! there's a two-year-old off-at-score, as if on a half-mile race with a swarm of subscribers. But he will soon lose his fastness, Jonathan-and we have him hard in hand -that he may not bolt off the course in among those birch-roots. You see that small circle of sand, "sharpening its mooned horns" - thither shall we persuade the sumph to sail; -Jonathan, don't you almost find him already wallopping in your wallet? There he has swum himself ashore and there, like a serpent a a a You seem surprised, Jonathan, at our incessant sport. 'Tis the tackle as much as the touch. In such clear, warm water as this, the very sight of great, big, fat fly, like drowned bummer, er, would sicken trout-and if tied to the end of a cafrighten a pool out of its seven senses. But these flies-scarcely flies-these midges, moving like motes on the water, solicit the fishy stomach with almost airy allurement, which the largest lobbers-as you see even when lying indolently beneath the bank, retired from the glare of noon that stupifies their panting brethren in the unprotected channel, have not the philosophy to resist. They sail slowly up to the slow speck, and just putting out their tongues-so-lick in the inextricable barb. It gives them no pain, Jonathan-merely a puzzle; and you may well think, that, for a while, they can with difficulty believe their eyes, when they see, by the receding stones, that they are journeying towards the opposite "banks and braes o' bonnie Duddon," from which, almost before some of them have leisure to distinguish the sward from the stream, they are transferred into thy wallet, Jonathan, that seems quick with child. You think we have killed somewhere from ten to twelve pound; and such slaughter-pretty well in a sunbright hour-will suffice to eke out the ham and eggs into no despicable dinner. Bless us-Seathwaite Chapel! and there are our friends sitting with the landlord in the honeysuckled porch of the alehouse, each with what seems a jug in his dexter hand. The scamps! that would not stay for the sonnets, though recited by an angel's tongue. Alas! there is little love of poetry left in this low life of ours-so now for the Ham and Eggs. The kitchen clock is striking six as we stoop our anointed head beneath the sla slate-roofed and at six, to a second, stands our door-way watch, such is the sympathy between the worthies. We cheerfully confess that we have occasionally seen a clean tablecloth in a Scotch small wayside or hedgerow inn. But nine hundred and ninety-nine times in the thousand, they have shewn mustard. In England, again-the dirty is supposed to be as one to a million. April snows are tolerably white, and so are April clouds and April lambs-but they are grey in comparison with this cloth bleached in May sun and shower, whose drapery descends in graceful folds from this Round Table standing firm on one leg as if it had four, at equal distance from hearth and door, bed and window. Such bread! baked of finest flour for the nonce in a pan-oven that raises the light-brown crust almost into the delicacy of the coating of bridecake, while close-grained even as that "mighty magic," kythes, as you break it, the crumbling inconsisteney of the fair interior! Graceful from the gridiron that crump circle of oatmeal wafers, broad as the bottom of a beehive; and what honey-comb! The scent is as of thyme, and by some conjuration, preserved has been the cellular framework all winter through, and therein lies the dewy flower-distilment, as clear as when the treasure was taken at harvest-close from the industrious people, who in a moment hushed their hum. That is our pot of porridge; and oh! it is exquisite when supped with cream! Of all liquid lustres, the loveliest sure is that of elder-flower wine. And delicately blending hospitality with the welcome due to all who peaceably enter here, the Mistress has placed that crystal at the Elder's elbow, saying, with a smile, that "quality have commended it," and 'tis in truth delightful sma' drink, and tastes racily of the tree. Aren't these pretty patterns of suns and sun-flowers, stars and roses, impressed on the glistening countenance of that glorious butter? Till now never saw we yellow. Put a spoon into that cream-it stands for a few moments straight-and then slowly declining, leans on the edge of the jug, like a young lady about to go into a swoon. The sight reminds us of the phial of concentrated Essence of Coffee in the fob of our jacket. There it is, and nobody must mistake it for the ketchup. All the hens in Seathwaite must have been laying to-day; else how these plates of poached, and these bowls of boiled? Seldom to be seen such a Teapot. But for the stroop, you might mistake it for a Tureen. Who expected to see you here? Yes it is THE ROUND-towering by himself on that chest of drawers. No-not by himself-beneath his shadow reposes an unmistakeable Brandy-bottle; nor will the froth on that ale-jug melt, till into it Christopher has dipped his Roman proboscis. 'Tis pleasing thus to compress all the meals that are usually scattered over the day into One mighty anonymous meal, in matter multiform, multifarious, and multitudinous, as in spirit the myriad-minded Shakspeare. Hark! how deliciously salutes our ears the hissing, and the fizzing, and the pabbling of the great pan in which the basted trouts are writhing as if in torments, while the gudewife herself, though she has had her tea and toast, feels herself called on now, as she values her temporal and eternal welfare, to bring household honour and conjugal pride to the aid of conscience and religion, that the Christian heroine may prove victorious over the temptation of the fish, and gain an immortal conquest over the savoury sin soliciting her, as Satan did Eve, with insidious whispers from the heart of that seducing Fry! She turns, but tastes them not-and just putting the fork to her lips, with a scientific whawmle empties the great pan into the great platter, and bearing the feast at arm's length and bosom-high, makes her entree into the Parlour like a Queen. Assuredly, next to the satisfactionof a good conscience is that of a wellfilled stomach. They are likewise kindred. So are hunger and remorse. We feel now that we have well performed our part in life-and are willing to leave the world to write our epitaph. Seem made for us, as if the carpenter had taken our measure, back and bottom of this easiest of all easy-chairs. Yet we see from these quaintly carved numerals 'tis a hundred years old. Contemporary with it all the rest of the oaken furniture; for we know that the wife of the landlord of New-Field was sole heiress of a statesman, and though the HillFarm and all its sycamores were sold to pay " ten mortgages rolled into one," in consequence of many strange calamities that kept befalling her humble house, the " family plenish ing" was preserved, and fortune smiles now on the worthy pair, yet in the prime of life, though with sons and daughters ripe for love or war. That was a pretty creature who now took away the cheese-and the stripling who shook hands with Jonathan, when he has filled up a bit, will be a likely lad for the Belt at Carlisle. The scene shifts to the seat beneath the sycamore that hangs its twilight o'er the inn, ere it has touched the open atmosphere, which be gins, however, to breathe of the stilly spirit of the late afternoon. Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo! The mellow monotone is not unmusical-but what means Shallow-bill by that flitting cry?" With soul as strong as a mountain river," from the top of the pine beside the chapel-tower bursts out the bold blackbird into a delirium of song and seems delighted at intervals, to listen to its echoes tinkling hurriedly among the rocks. Who shall sing a second to that song? Not Sontag's ag's self-though surnamed the Nightingale. "In nature," says Coleridge, “there is nothing melancholy," wisely meaning that no living thing is created for unhappiness, and that the ordinary language of inferior life is expressive of pleasure. We wish we could say that in nature there is nothing discordant; but were we to say so, the bray of that ass would give us the lie. If he be gifted by nature with a musical ear, there must be some peculiarity in his throat and lungs that prevents him from carrying his ideas into execution. The distinguished donkey has finished his solo, and we trust will not be offended by our declining to call " encore." Yet he has been unconsciously exerting his vocal powers to enhance the delight of the ensuing silence : and in the hush, how pleasant the lowing of the kine, for 'tis the season of "The day is placid in its going, To a lingering stillness bound, Like a river in its flowing, Can there be a softer sound?" The loveliest of all light is that which precedes the moon, while yet her unseen orb is journeying up from behind the hill, and you are uncertain over what place she will raise her silver rim. Expect her rising as you will, the suddenness always adds a slight surprise to your delight, and for a moment you are doubtful if it be indeed the moon. Fullseen now in slow ascension, how she deepens the whole blue serene of heaven! For a while you know not that there are any stars. But look! there is one large and lustrous-and now is the sky bedropt with diamonds, dim as if dewy; but there will be no rain to morrow, for no aerial tresses are dishevelled along the " lift;" and the few clouds there are braided into folds of perfect peace. From heaven we withdraw our eyes, and they fall quietly on the house of God. Troutbech Chapel-Langdale Chapel - Wythburn Chapel - Buttermere Chapel-Wastdale Chapel - Seathwaite Chapel-we bless you all! And every other holy edifice that cheers the Sabbath-silence of the mountains with its single bell. Children are ye of one mother-church, and true to her religious faith, in your humble ritual, as minster or cathedral, "Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise." A sort of slumbrous softness seems as if it were dewily sealing our eyes, and sleep whispers us to steal away with her into the land of dreams. Seven long leagues of a mountain-walk are something to a man of seventy 'tis seventeen hours since Christopher and the Sun arose calves; the milky mothers are musi--and more than an hour ago " the cal in their affection, and seldom have we heard a more harmonious concert of cows NT But now 'tis gloaming-at least so thinks that batas dips the flittermouse fearlessly within a foot of our heads, and then keeps wavering to and fro between the sycamore and the barn. The most cheerful objects seem almost solemn in the duskwhile Audous oved (Long noor not wearied sun betook himself to rest." The remaining luminary not the Moon-must follow the example; his age entitles him to the singlebedded-room-and his night's rest is broken by the mildest snore. Good-night, boys-and, Jonathan, see they do not get into mischief when.. their guardian has gone to roost. "To-morrow for fresh fields and pastures newal rods saquga hrA. ISMENE AND LEANDER. IN THREE BALLADS. (From the German of Hölty.) SINCE Adam did the fruit receive Of sin, there ne'er has been a More beauteous progeny of Eve Than was the fair Ismene. FIRST BALLAD. 1 She was just in her eighteenth year-1 Her figure all the grace bespeaks With ceaseless smiles abounding, And yet if fame be not a liar, In deeds Ismene boasted, For which she now, at Old Nick's fire, 1 And every charm, from Satan, she And always on the first of May, 7. 2016 With scarce a muslin frockon Then kiss'd so greedily her hand,tu Dira - And many a weary hour he spent, And found, one day, where crystal streams He dreamt of lovely Adelaide And bridal maids already plait The garlands for the wedding; to And she was like in every whit Then hied they thence to shady trees, Of ivory the car was made, With purest opal blended, Nor mayor nor monarch ever had A chariot half so splendid. They mount, and seat themselves within The curricle together; The horses rush through thick and thin Leander knows not whitherto ra 'Tis strange, but authors are agreed Their airy flight together, Jeontis mene And if this ballad good appear, The car its airy voyage steer'd With never-ceasing motion, Until at length an isle appear'd Green glittering in the ocean. In distant southern seas it lay, Which never Cook sailed over, Nor those so famous in their day, Great Dampier and Vancouver. And sure it was a paradise, SECOND BALLAD. All earthly bliss unfurling; And zephyrs bland from op'ning flowers Is wont at times to bless us. And angel-voices in the breeze And in the lawn was distant seen More bright than mortal mind conceives, God save us! where the fairies pass Within, a large saloon received Jove, changed into a milk-white swan, And by the hand of Titian Mars put to shame by Vulcan. The mighty Sultan eke was seen With fairest houris gamboling, And here they lived a life of glee, Ismene winks and straight appear, All sorts and shapes of dishes. And jellies bright, with seedcake baked And then they spent sweet hours of bliss chess, And lemonade were ready; And when the groves, in silent night, Then wander'd forth in bright moonlight, And arm in arm entwined they lay, |