ANGLER.-Excellent, excellent-' you have 'conquered me;' and to speak the truth, I but tried if you were in earnest; for once on a time I walked by myself to the Dove head, and I may tell you all the way is as full of fair sweet prospects as any can desire that love angling and the wild hadder of the moors; so let us be gone to-morrow before the sun rising.

PAINTER. I care not how early; and now every one to bed with a prayerful heart, that he may secretly fetch down his consolation from Heaven, and make every thing contribute to his gradual ascent thither.

ANGLER.-Good night all.

CHAPTER IV.

The Angler and the Painter take a pleasant. walk to the source of the Dove.

ANGLER -How now! brave Gentleman, how fares it with you this morning?

PAINTER. Trust me, I am full of joyful expectations.

ANGLER.Then you do not repent your sudden challenge to walk across the moors to the Dove head?

PAINTER.-Oh, Sir, never fear me.

Hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings
'And Phoebus 'gins to arise,

'His steeds to water at those springs
'On chalic'd flowers that lies.'

The air of these mountains hath a wholesome freshness that gives wings to the spirit.

ANGLER.-Very true; and I have the authority of learned Sir William Temple to declare, that health and long life are to be found on the Peak of Derbyshire, and the heaths of Staffordshire. Are you for breakfast?

PAINTER.-Aye! and look, our host has provided for us in this arbour in his garden;

see how it is grown over with jessamines and honey-suckles.

ANGLER.And here is a hedge of sweetbriers-it all breathes fragrancy.

PAINTER.-It is very pleasant; and now let us discuss our breakfast with all freedom, as honest anglers ought to do: here's new baked bread, and milk and honey; and here's a bowl of curds and whey, with nutmeg and ginger. Are you for that?

ANGLER. With all my heart.

PAINTER. What say you brother; is not here a most fresh and unmatchable morning for travellers? Do but look over those hills; and there are the blue moors, backed by the burnished light of the sun rising behind them. What can be more glorious?

PAINTER.- Nothing, nothing-see how he cometh forth as a bridegroom from his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.'—

Pack clouds away, and welcome day,
With night we banish sorrow;

Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft,

To give my love good morrow.

Wings from the wind, to please the mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;

Bird plume thy wing, nightingales sing,
To give my love good morrow,
To give my love good morrow.
Notes from them both I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest, robin redbreast,
Sing birds in every furrow;
And from each hill let music shrill,
Give my fair love good morrow,

Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cock sparrow,
You pretty elves, among yourselves,
Sing my fair love good morrow.
To give my love good morrow,
Sing birds in every furrow.

ANGLER.-Excellent well!-it is a song of Mr. Thomas Heywood?

PAINTER.-The same; and now it is your

turn.

ANGLER.-Let me consider a while; I'll give you a ballad of John Welbye. Or staynow, I have one :

In pride of May,

The fields are gay,

The birds do sing, so sweetly sing

So nature would

That all things could,

With joy, begin the spring.

Then, lady dear,

Do you appear

In beauty, like the spring;

I will dare say,

The birds that day

More cheerfully will sing.*

And now we have done breakfast, and I am ready to attend you.

-

PAINTER. Well, then, let us be going. I am with you, lead on. You remember how the

host told us there were two roads to Beresford:

* Ballads and Madrigals by Thos. Weekes, 1598.

let us take the coach road by the left for a change; and now we are at the top look before you, for there again is Beresford Hall.

ANGLER.-Oh! that Mr. Charles Cotton were now there! and we might be invited to receive some instructions in fly-fishing!

PAINTER. And my master, honest Izaak, with his bottom-fishing, - so please you, brother. ANGLER.-That I heartily wish too. But see we are once more arrived at the brink of the river.

PAINTER.-Do we cross over this fordable

place?

ANGLER.-Nay-that would be roundabout to Hartington; and mine host advised us rather to turn underneath those rocks which are close to Pike Pool; for there we may pass the river, and have a pleasant prospect of the fishing-house; and then by a nearer path across some fields to Hartington, and after that I can find my way.

PAINTER. With all my heart; so here we are again see the turfy bank where we had the enjoyment of Mr. Walton's book; and the cobbling stones across the Dove.

ANGLER.-The same; and so take care, or you may have an unlucky tumble into the river. PAINTER.-Over with you, Sir!-I am an angler now, and fear not the element I trade 'in.'

ANGLER.-Bravely, Mr. Pictor, you have a dexterous management with your heels. Now to the right by this high bank; and look how the river winds, like a snake, through the mea

M