'fluid air, and so makes her highway over the 'steepest mountains and deepest rivers, and in

6

her glorious career looks with contempt upon those high steeples and magnificent palaces 'which we adore and wonder at; from which 'height I can make her to descend by a word 'from my mouth (which she both knows and obeys) to accept of meat from my hand, to own me for her master, to go home with me, and be willing the next day to afford me the 'like recreation.' Now, is not that a cheerful description? and, that I may not be thought immoderate, I will omit many passages; but I beseech you listen to the praises that Mr. Falconer makes of those little nimble musicians ' of the air, that warble forth their curious dit'ties, with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of art. As first the lark, when she means to rejoice; to cheer herself and those that hear her; she then quits the earth, and sings as she ascends higher into the air, and having ended her heavenly employment, grows then mute and sad, to think she must 'descend to the dull earth, which she would not touch, but for necessity.'

PAINTER.-Aye! grows then mute and sad

'to think she must descend to the dull earth!' How natural that is! Mr. Walton's words are more musical than the song of the lark-and his strains higher than her aerial flight, for they bring you nearer to thoughts of heaven.

ANGLER. Then he proceeds: How do the 'blackbird and thrassel with their melodious ' voices bid welcome to the cheerful Spring, and

' in their fixed mouths warble forth such ditties

as no art or instrument can reach to! Nay, 'the smaller birds also do the like, in their par'ticular seasons, as, namely, the leverock, the ' titlark, the little linnet, and the honest robin, 'that loves mankind both alive and dead.'

PAINTER. Beautiful! the honest robin that ' loves mankind both alive and dead;' that has an allusion to the ballad of the Babes in the Wood, a sad and simple history that so mightily touches the affections of children.

'These pretty babes, with hand in hand,
Went wandering up and downe,
But never more could see the man
Approaching from the towne.

'Their prettye lippes with blackberries
Were all besmear'd and dyed,

And when they saw the darksome night
They sat them downe and cryed.

'Thus wandered these two little babes

Till death did end their grief,

In one another's arms they dyed

As babes wanting reliefe.

'No burial this pretty pair

Of any man receives,

Till Robin red-breast painfully

Did cover them with leaves.'

Stop, dear brother; for I would not have you to mar those passages you have now cited out of Mr. Walton by some that are worse.

*The original of this ballad is to be found in 'A hand'full of Pleasant Delites,' contayning sundrie new Sonets and delectable Histories in divers kinds of maters, newly devised to the newest tunes. At London, 1584. Printed by Richard Jhones, dwelling at the sign of the Rose and Crown, near Holbourne Bridge.

ANGLER-Listen to one more, and I have done. But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might 'make mankind to think miracles are not 'ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when 'thou affordest bad men such music on 'earth!'

PAINTER. I now remember that description: it is beyond my praise; it is all music together, and I declare to you, I know not which I am most in love with-the song of the nightingale, or the meek penman who hath set that song to such music.

ANGLER.-I told you the writings of Mr. Walton have a power to unlock the affections; and I am so bold as to assure you, that many men I could name, who mocked at fishers and fishing before they had perused the COMPLETE ANGLER, have been moved to practise his art by the persuasive arguments they have found in it.

PAINTER. That I can believe, and for my part I am almost brought to wish myself a Falconer by these testimonies which AUCEPS hath adduced to the praise of his noble, generous hawks, and 'those little nimble musicians of the air.'

ANGLER. Stay a while, till I bring before

K

you what the merry huntsman had to say for his recreation; and after that the commendations Mr. Walton bestows on the greater excellency of his own happy art of angling. But now I perceive you have made an outline of this landskip, so let us go down to the lower streams of the river, where I have something better to show you.

PAINTER. I am not willing to doubt any thing you say but what can you find more full of beauty than these landskips hereabouts?

ANGLER. Of that I shall give you leave to judge when I have brought you to a spot will enchant you; and there you may be sure to catch a good fish.

PAINTER.-Well then, let us be doing; and now I think it is time to repair to my angle, that I left in the water to fish for itself.

ANGLER.-There it is, and so take it up.

PAINTER. How now!-my worm and hook both gone! -Look you!-and it may be I have lost a good trout, whilst I was charmed with those song-birds, that sung so sweetly out of Mr. Walton's aviary

ANGLER. Never mind,-you shall presently 'try a fall' with another; and pray take notice, that trout was not lost, for quiet Mr. Walton says, no man can lose what he never had.' Ah! ha! saw you that fish?-he rose just above yonder great stone on the other side. If I have any luck, I shall land him presently. PAINTER. You have cast your fly in the very spot; and there!-look there he is again.

-

ANGLER. I have him fast.

PAINTER.-See-what a summersault he

made!

ANGLER. He should be a trout from his nimbleness, and a plumper too.

PAINTER. I beseech you handle him like an artist-here is the net and all ready-haul him in.

ANGLER. Not so fast--not so fast, brotherlet him have his time.

PAINTER. There again! saw you that leap he gave? By my word you have the right knack.

ANGLER. Now you observe he has a running line and now I may bring him up again— so, so he has done his worst-now fetch the net; but if you love me, manage him with a prudent hand; so, you performed it handsomely; and a fine fish he is :-come, let us go down to PIKE POOL. I know not how it may fare with your stomach, but mine tells me it should be near to dinner-time.

PAINTER -In plain truth, I am well disposed to play my part at that.

ANGLER.-Away then by this bank, where the stream becomes broader. See how it hurries by that bed of rock with a loud murmuring.

PAINTER.-How now! there is a rock in the river like a church steeple, and forty feet high! ANGLER. That is the PIKE POOL you have heard of.

PAINTER.-Say you so? what a spot of solitude is here!

ANGLER. Now tell me is not this a charming nook for a recluse angler? But here we must make our passage once more into Stafford