distinct work. It was dedicated to Sir Robert Holt, of Aston, in Warwickshire, Baronet, whose mother was the daughter of John King, Bishop of London, and sister of Henry King, afterwards Bishop of Chichester, the intimate friend of Donne and Walton. There are such characteristic and pleasing passages in this dedication; it affords so many illustrations of the mind and life of the writer, and contains statements of so much interest, among which is the fact that the memoir of Donne had been honoured with the approbation of King Charles the First, that it is proper to insert it :

"TO MY NOBLE AND HONOURED FRIEND, SIR ROBERT HOLT, OF ASTON, IN THE COUNTY OF WARWICK, BART.

"SIR,-When this relation of the life of Dr Donne was first made public, it had, besides the approbation of our late learned and eloquent King, a conjunction with the author's most excellent sermons to support it and thus it lay some time fortified against prejudice, and those passions that are, by busy and malicious men, too freely vented against the dead. And yet, now, after almost twenty years, when though the memory of Dr Donne himself, must not, cannot die, so long as men speak English; yet when I thought time had made this relation of him so like myself, as to become useless to the world, and content to be forgotten, I find that a retreat into a desired privacy will not be afforded; for the printers will again expose it and me to public exceptions, and without those supports, which we first had and needed, and in an age too in which truth and innocence have not been able to defend themselves from worse than severe censures. This I foresaw, and nature teaching me self-preservation, and my long experience of your abilities assuring me that in you it may be found, to you, Sir, do I make mine addresses for an umbrage and protection; and I make it with so much humble boldness, as to say 'twere degenerous in you not to afford it. For, Sir, Dr Donne was so much a part of yourself, as to be incorporated into your family, by so noble a friendship, that I may say there was a marriage of souls betwixt him and your reverend grandfather, [John King, Bishop of London,] who in his life was an angel of our once glorious Church, and now no common star in heaven. And Dr Donne's love died not with him, but was doubled upon his heir, your beloved uncle, [Henry King,] the Bishop of Chichester, that lives in this froward generation, to be an ornament to his calling. And this affection to him was by Dr Donne so testified in his life, that he then trusted him with the very secrets of his soul; and at his death, with what was dearest to him, even his fame, estate, and children. And you have yet a further title to what was Dr Donne's, by that dear affection and friend. ship that was betwixt him and your parents, by which he entailed a love upon yourself, even in your infancy, which was increased by the early testimonies of your growing merits, and by them continued till Dr Donne put on immortality; and so this mortal was turned into a love that cannot die. And, Sir, 'twas pity he was lost to you in your minority, before you had attained a judgment to put a true value upon the living beauties and elegancies of his conversation; and pity, too, that so much of them as were

capable of such an expression, were not drawn by the pencil of a Titian or a Tintoret, by a pen equal and more lasting than their art; for his life ought to be the example of more than that age in which he died. And yet this copy, though very much, indeed too much, short of the original, will present you with some features not unlike your dead friend, and with fewer blemishes and more ornaments than when 'twas first made public; which creates a contentment to myself, because it is the more worthy of him, and because I may with more civility entitle you to it. And in this design of doing so I have not a thought of what is pretended in most dedications, a commutation for courtesies: no indeed, Sir, I put no such value upon this trifle; for your owning it will rather increase my obligations. But my desire is, that into whose hands soever this shall fall, it may to them be a testimony of my gratitude to yourself and family, who descended to such a degree of humility as to admit me into their friendship in the days of my youth; and notwithstanding my many infirmities, have continued me in it till I am become grey-headed; and as time has added to my years, have still increased and multiplied their favours. This, Sir, is the intent of this Dedication; and having made the declaration of it thus public, I shall conclude it with commending them and you to God's dear love.

"I remain, Sir, what your many merits have made me to be, the humblest of your servants, ISAAC WALTON."

From this time the memorials of Walton are again imperfect until after the Restoration, an event which afforded the highest gratification to his political and religious feelings, and tended materially to his personal happiness. Charles the Second's return was attended by the promotion of many of the eminent divines who had suffered in the royal cause, among whom were some of Walton's oldest and most intimate friends. Dr Morley was made Dean of Christ Church, and soon afterwards Bishop of Worcester, Dr Henchman was elected Bishop of Salisbury, Dr Sanderson Bishop of Lincoln, and Dr King was restored to his see of Chichester. In their episcopal palaces, as in distress and persecution, the friendship of these eminent men for Walton was steady and sincere; and much of the remainder of his life was passed in their society. Long years of intimacy, congeniality of sentiments on secular and ecclesiastical matters, a similarity of taste in literature, and, more than all, a spirit of devout but rational piety, united them in the strongest bonds of attachment. The esteem of such men is conclusive evidence of Walton's virtues; and he often alluded to their kindness and good opinion in the warmest terms of gratitude.

Walton's joyful feelings at the Restoration are not merely presumed from his known devotion to the cause of monarchy and religion. They were expressed in the following "humble Eclogue" written on the 29th of May 1660, addressed to his "ingenious

e

friend, Mr Brome,5 on his various and excellent poems," which is prefixed to the first edition of Alexander Brome's Songs and other Poems, printed in the following year :

"TO MY INGENIOUS FRIEND, Mr Brome, on hiS VARIOUS AND EXCELLENT POEMS. AN HUMBLE ECLOG,

Written on the 29th of May 1660.

DAMON AND DORUS.

DAMON.

Hail, happy day! Dorus, sit down:
Now let no sigh, nor let a frown
Lodge near thy heart, or on thy brow.
The King! the King's return'd! and now
Let's banish all sad thoughts, and sing
We have our Laws, and have our King.

DORUS.

'Tis true, and I would sing, but oh!
These wars have shrunk my heart so low,
'Twill not be rais'd.

DAMON.

What, not this day?

Why, 'tis the twenty-ninth of May:
Let Rebels' spirits sink: let those
That, like the Goths and Vandals, rose

To ruin families, and bring

Contempt upon our Church, our King,
And all that's dear to us, be sad;
But be not thou; let us be glad.
And, Dorus, to invite thee, look,
Here's a collection in this book

Of all those cheerful songs, that we
Have sung with mirth and merry glee: 6
As we have march'd to fight the cause
Of God's anointed, and our laws:
Such songs as make not the least odds
Betwixt us mortals and the Gods:
Such songs as Virgins need not fear

To sing, or a grave matron hear.

Here's love drest neat, and chaste, and gay,

As gardens in the month of May;

Here's harmony, and wit, and art,

To raise thy thoughts, and cheer thy heart.

5 "Alexander Brome, an attorney of the King's Bench, an ingenious poet, died 29th

June 1666." Smith's Obituary, Additional MS. 886, in the British Museum.

6 The following variation occurs in the next edition of Brome's Poems, printed in 1668:

"Have sung so oft and merrily."

The third edition of the "Complete Angler" appeared in 1661; but the variations between it and the impression of 1655 are not numerous or material. Although Mr Offley, to whom it was dedicated, died in 1658, no notice is taken of the circumstance, which is rather extraordinary, because Walton pathetically alludes to the loss of his fishing companions, the two Roes. In the former editions he spoke of "the days and times when honest Nat and R. R. and I go a-fishing together;" and in 1661 he thus noticed their deaths, "In such days and times as I have laid aside business, and gone a-fishing with honest Nat and R. Roe; but they are gone, and with them most of my pleasant hours, even as a shadow that passeth away, and returns not.” Considerable trouble has been taken to discover some particulars of those persons, who, as Walton's intimate friends, and his companions in the sport for which he is celebrated, have strong claims upon the regard of his disciples. Unfortunately, however, nothing has been found respecting them, except that they appear to have been distantly related to Walton, as he presented one of his books to his "cozen Roe;" but it may be conjectured that they were brothers, and shopkeepers in London, and it was probably the wife of one of them who was godmother to his son in September 1651.

In the same year, 1661, Walton also wrote some verses on the publication of the fourth edition of a popular religious poem, called "The Synagogue," by the Rev. Christopher Harvie, who had paid a similar compliment to Walton in the second edition of the Complete Angler," and whose poem on the Book of Common Prayer is introduced into that work, as having been written by "a

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reverend and learned divine, who professed to imitate George Herbert." "The Synagogue" was first printed in 1640; and Walton says, in the following lines, that he admired that poem before he knew its author personally, with whom he must, therefore, have become acquainted between the years 1640 and 1655:

"TO MY REVEREND FRIEND THE AUTHOR OF THE SYNAGOGUE.

On the 17th of April 1662, Walton again became a widower, by the death of his second wife, Anne Ken. The event took place in her fifty-second year at Worcester, and is thus recorded by her husband in his family Prayer-Book: "Anne Walton dyed the 17th of April, about one o'clock in that night, and was buried in the Virgin Mary's Chapel, in the cathedral in Worcester, the 20th day." As no particulars respecting her decease are known, it is doubtful how far Walton was prepared for his misfortune by her previous illness. He was warmly attached to her, and in the following pathetic epitaph, which he placed near her remains, he bears the strongest testimony to her talents and virtues :