to a better acquaintance with all three: notwithstanding I have always looked upon angling to be a folitary recreation, not worthy so much as our vacant hours.

Angler. I hope before we part company you will be undeceived, and learn how we anglers can recreate our spirits, when the fun rises over the hills; and this I promise in reward for your fudden refolve to come on your travels with me, only to the intent that by your art and fociable conversation you might give me pleasure.

Painter. I now thank you heartily, because you moved me to this journey; nay more, if I might believe my present thoughts, I shall be surprised into a desire to try and angle in the river Dove, that you take so great a delight in.

Angler. That were ftrange indeed,—to see your leifure divided between the pencil and the angle rod !—yet if I could once inveigle you to the practice of our harmless sport, fo full of hopes and composure, you would soon confess to its excellency, and fay with the unknown poet,*

* Unknown,' because Walton afcribes the 'SECRETS OF ANGLING' to the pen of Jo. Davors, Efquire but Mr. Roger Jackson, by whom they were published, after the death of the author,' entered them

F

'Oh let me rather on the pleasant brink

'Of Tyne and Trent poffefs fome dwelling place, 'Where I may fee my quill and cork down sink With eager bite of barbel, bleik, or dace.

'Let other men their pastimes, then, pursue,
'And on their pleasing fancies feed their fill:
'So I the fields and meadows green may view,
And by the rivers fresh may walk at will,
Among the daifies and the violets blue,
'Red hyacinth and yellow daffodil,

'Purple narciffus like the morning rays,
'Pale ganderglass and azure culverkayes.

'The lofty woods; the forests wide and long,

'Adorn'd with leaves and branches fresh and green, In whofe cool bow'rs the birds with chaunting fong 'Do welcome with their quire the fummer's queen, 'The meadows fair, where Flora's gifts among 'Are intermix'd the verdant grafs between. 'The filver scaled fish that softly swim "Within the brooks and crystal wat❜ry brim.

'All these and many more of His creation

‹ That made the heavens, the angler oft doth see, 'And takes therein no little delectation

'To think how strange and wonderful they be.'

Painter. Why, Sir, your faithful memory is like a casket, well stored with curious gems,

at the Stationers' Company,' 1612, 23° Martii, as prac'tifed and opened in three books, by JOHN DENNYS, Efquire.'-ED.

that you unlock at will to embellish your dif course withal and now here is my picture of Spittle Hill.

Angler. It is an obvious copy of nature, and a sweet view over Afhbourne.

Painter. The brow of fuch a hill gives the advantage of a large prospect.

Angler. And now, if you please, we may follow the fteps of thefe gentlemen riders, and descend into Afhbourne.-See, we are come to the town, and here is the River Henmore, that runs under this stone bridge; and this is the way to the market-place.

Painter. What is there? methinks I fee an ivy bufh; and the fign of an inn.

Angler. That is the Talbot, and a very decent hoftelry; fo let us drink a glass of barley 'wine at the Talbot, and away,' after the example of Mr. Cotton and his new friend.

Painter. With all my heart. Was this Mr. Cotton's Inn?

Angler. Aye, truly. What, oh! good man, will you please to bring us a cup of ale?

Painter. Come, brother, here's to Mr. Walton, and his adopted fon, Mr. Charles Cotton? Angler. I thank you for that pledge; and here is my loving service to you.

Painter. And now let us be gone; for fince

we are come into this valley, I am all impatience to find your River Dove, which, methinks, fhould be hereabouts.

Angler. Not fo faft, Sir; we must climb that steep hill on the other fide of the town; and after that we have fome hours before we shall see the most pleasant river in England.

Painter. How! methought Afhbourne was clofe upon the margin of the Dove!

Angler. It is but a furlong or two off; nevertheless we have to make a circuit before we come to that most delightful of rivers; for truft me the road to Beresford Hall is over ' an odd country.'

Painter. It was but now you promised I fhould fee 'fuch alluring fcenes, decked by 'Nature's hand as to be little spots of enchant'ment;' and now you tell me I must be fatisfied to fee an odd country!

Angler. Nay, good brother; remember how you are to exercise the meekness and patience of an angler; and you shall confefs, when you see my Dove, that it covers the faults of the it' 'road;' and fo let me perfuade you to breast the hill.

Painter. Well, Sir, lead on; and I shall endeavour to be even with you.-Heigho! at last we are clambered up.

Angler. It was done with a gamesome spirit, worthy of an angler.

Painter. But it has made me pant: and here's a fhady ash tree, so let us rest awhile, that I may recover myself.

Angler. With all my heart; and stretch our limbs on this bank: and I green may tell you, this pretty spot is Sandy Brook.And now, if you are rested, let us not loiter, but hither away to the left, down by this green lane.

Painter. I am with you; but what have we here? another swift bubbling stream, that flows over a rocky bed, and is scarce a foot deep. Angler. 'Tis Bentley Brook, that whirls haftily along to meet her playmate, the Dove. Painter. And, by my word, a very pretty

rivulet it is.

Angler. I have Mr. Cotton's authority to fay, it is full of good trouts and graylings, but 'fo encumbered with wood in many places as is troublesome to an angler.'

Painter. Whereabouts does it rife?

Angler. That I cannot refolve you; but you are not to wonder if the stream comes to us, as you now see it, like to transparent crystal : for the flowering wells of Tiffington empty themselves, with a constant freshness, into Bentley Brook.