HOST.-Sometimes I have known the GREEN DRAKE to appear before this, and you may depend he will be out in a few days, for I have examined the cadis and they are almost come to maturity; but you cannot have a better fly than this DUN CUT, and it is an excellent piece of workmanship.

ANGLER.-I'll make the trial of it; and now the wind is whistling, and the water curls merrily, so let us begin.

HOST.-There, Sir, was a rise.

ANGLER.-Nay, he came short; but there he is again. I have him; so, so; 'tis a good fish. Now, Mr. Marsh, for the net: 'twas well landed, and a fine fish it is; but I have seen some in better season-ah! there is another; methinks he's yet bigger: and now I come to look at him, he's better fed: and there's a third ! Well, this is a gamesome river.

HOST.-Indeed, Sir, you have a gentle wrist. I wish Mr. Cotton could see you; he would not part with you for some days; but would entertain you with so many pleasures, that you would be contented to remain at the Hall, and almost forget yourself to be a stranger.

ANGLER. Would he were here!

HOST.-Alas! I would he were with all my

heart.

ANGLER. I have the greatest desire possible to see a gentleman endowed with so many accomplishments, and of such a generous spirit. But let us move upwards.

HOST.-Aye, Sir; yonder, where the river makes a bend, 'tis a deep water, and still; but

it is ruffled by a good breeze of wind, and you'll find some large trouts lie there.

ANGLER. Wherever you recommend. What a green turfy walk is here! I could almost envy Mr. Walton his angling with a float, to sit on such a bank, and recline himself under the shade of these trees: the grass is so well mowed, 'tis as soft under foot as velvet, and fit for a bowling ground.

HOST.-Sometimes Mr. Cotton and his friends will have their pleasure here at bowles instead of yonder by the Tower.

ANGLER. Well, it must take the work of some labouring men to keep all this grass plot so smooth, for there is near two acres of it.

Host. Yes, Sir, the gardeners have enough to do and this brings to my mind a story of Mr. Cotton-but it is not worth your hearing.

ANGLER. I pray you let me have it, whatever it is.

:

HOST.-Well, Sir, I need not tell you my master is the farthest possible from an avaricious man, for his hand and purse are open to the poor; and he will always have his servants well provided but the cook is sometimes a pinch-crust, and then the servants will grumble. Now it chanced one day, in the last summer, as Mr. Cotton walked down this way to fish, the mowers were cutting the grass badly, and so he cried out to them, How now, 6 fellows?

what do you call this? a grass plot or a mea'dow land? I pray you let me see it better 'done, and smoothly.' Thereupon they looked at one another doubtingly, and whispered

among themselves at length one that was known to be something of a dry wit among them, after some little persuasive winks and nods of the others, came forward with his hat in his hand to be their spokesman. Then in a very humble tone, and with something of a facetious look, which always takes with Mr. Cotton, he said,

'Little meat, and half enough,

'Makes the scythe cut high and rough.'

6

So because Mr. Cotton has no austerity of behaviour towards the lowest and poorest man that speaks to him civilly, he enquired what his meaning was, and then the truth came out. Well, well, honest man,' he replied, go to your work, and I'll presently see to it.' And so he walked home to the Hall, and there he made a rout at the cook, and ordered a servant to take down provisions enough, and plenty; and in the afternoon he found his rascals hard at work, bending lustily over their scythes. Then he goes and looks at them; and then out steps the poet with his hat in his hand as before, and says to him,

'Now we've meat, and some to spare,

'It makes the scythe both wipe and pare,'

meaning the grass should be cut smooth and fine. So Mr. Cotton laughed at his rustical wit, and said 'go to-go to, thou art a wag;' and so he turned away, and took his recreation a-fishing, and I am sure he was more entertained than he chose to tell them.

ANGLER. They are happy servants to be under a master who is so accostable and sweet tempered. But here comes the gentleman from the fishing-house.

PAINTER.-So, brother, what sport?

ANGLER.-Excellent good. And how have you sped?

PAINTER. Those paintings in the fishinghouse have detained me longer than I thought; but I have done them with all the correctness I am master of.

ANGLER.-A thousand thanks to you. But look ye, a large fish has come to me: I have him fast; now do you take the rod, and you shall have the praise to kill this trout within view of Mr. Cotton's fishing-house.

PAINTER.-It may be the ill luck to lose one; for I shall but bungle at him.

ANGLER.-Come, be persuaded, and quickly. PAINTER.-Well then, I'll try a bout with him. Ah me! what an unmannerly glutton it is. ANGLER-Point your rod high-keep him with a steady hand; so-it is well done.

PAINTER. He struggles fearfully-there! saw you that tumble he made? Shall I jerk him out?

ANGLER.-Oh! by no means; but have patience give him his play, and a little more line -so-ho that's enough-hold up your rodthere, now wind him up with a discretion, and we shall bring him to land presently.

PAINTER. Where is the net?

ANGLER. I have it ready; fetch him round hither.

PAINTER.-There was a tug he gave: I shall lose him--beseech you take the rod again.

ANGLER.-Pardon me, you shall have your sport worry him a bit: see how he lies on the water-this way, and now you have him, as you well deserve.

PAINTER. That was exceeding fine sport; I never thought the pleasures of angling were so great. I'm quite hot and confused. He is a handsome fish, spotted red all over. How many have you taken?

ANGLER.-Three trouts; but this last you have so handled like a skilful 'prentice in the art is worth them all it is a heavy fish, and see what fine condition he's in. You shall make another trial lower down the stream, where the water is in rapids. But before we go, let me see your paintings.

PAINTER. There they are; and I was never more in love with my employment, than when I sat in the fishing-house, and saw Mr. Walton and Mr. Cotton looking upon me from the doors of the beaufet. I have endeavoured all I could, (but in vain) to delineate honest Izaak, who looks so meekly.

ANGLER.-Nay; it is an exact copy of yonder portrait: what can be more winning than to see his mute calmness, which only happy anglers know. And Mr. Cotton, whose native disposition shines in that mirthful countenance, which can be no other than his own. What say you, mine host, to this limning; hath my brother caught Mr. Cotton's look?