well-tuned gladsome pastoral, and as well fung as it is composed; and I will now confess, this walk to the Dove, and the freshness of the Derbyshire hills, and, above all, the ingenious delight you take in following Mr. Cotton's footsteps, have put new thoughts into my mind. There is the best picture I can make for you; but I am not a limner to fix those intricate lights and fhadows that flit from one rock to another with the paffing clouds.

Angler. Truly, Sir, it could not be better composed; and now let us towards Alftonfields, and over the wheelbarrow bridge.

Painter. With all my heart: but not on all fours.' Obferve how the water hurries away, rippling over the rocky bed.

Angler. Ah! faw you that, Sir?

Painter. I faw nothing: what was it?

Angler. It was a hungry trout rose at a fly: now, by your leave, I must have the delight to try my poor skill in the Dove. That trout has transported me beyond discretion.

Painter. You have my permiffion; fo fix your tackling and go to work.

Angler. There again: did you not see him rife?

Painter. I faw him not.

Angler. Well, then, if I have any luck, you

shall see him by supper time at Alstonfields. Painter. I wish you good sport with all my heart, and do you call me if you chance to hook him; meantime I'll contrive another sketch of these glades and rocks.

Angler. Do not forget to make the Dove a part of your picture.

Painter. And remember, you have promised to requite me with a good trout for supper. Angler. I faid a brace.

Painter. Better and better; fo farewell, and good luck go with thee.-

Painter. How now, Brother Piscator? Angler. Hoi! quickly,—that you may partake of the delights of angling: here is a heavy fish, and my line being flender give me the

net.

Painter. Nay, I beseech you, let me land him, that I may have the honour of a helping hand with our first trout in the Dove.

Angler. You fhall, and welcome too; but manage him with discretion.

Painter. Trust me: I'm ready-haul him now to the bank; ah, me! he's gone away again: he was desperate.

Angler. Fear not, I have him fafe: I but play with him; fee, he begins to tire; and now

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you may take him: gently, gently-fo, 'twas bravely netted.

Painter. Do but look how his belly and fides are spotted with bright red spots.

Angler. It is a goodly fish; but I must give you a brace and there was another rise under the further bank; wait a moment, and he is mine.

Painter. Then I'll call you a master of your art, and fince you have entertained me with the pleasure of this trout, I'll go finish my picture of the Dove, for it is worth all my little skill in drawing.- So; how is it with

you?

Angler. Here is the brace of trouts I promised you.

Painter. You are as good as your word. And I have not been idle.

Angler. I thank you; they are the very rocks and my Dove; and here is the bridge and, I declare, two anglers landing a trout! So hither away for Alftonfields with merry hearts;

'There roast him and baste him with good claret wine, 'For the calvor'd boyl'd trout will make thee to dine 'With dainty contentment.' *

* Barker's Delight; or the Art of Angling, wherein are discovered many rare fecrets both for catching fish and dreffing thereof, &c. 12° 1657.—ED.

Painter. Step on, brother, for you cannot defire to be at fupper more than I do; and now we have trudged up the hill, and are come to the church we faw from Hanfon Toot, on the other fide.

Angler. And there is the 'honeft alehouse' I told you of-and fee, mine hoft standing under the porch, ready to welcome loyal travellers to the 'King's Head.'

Painter. Kept by Herbert Marsh'-for there's his name printed in large underneath.