(considerably above thirty) since we met in fishing quarters the very pleasing and accomplished gentleman, then engaged in his medical studies, from whom we heard the story.

In a former fishing excursion, such as that in which he was engaged at the time, our friend had observed a follower of the same sport holding his course down the very midst of the small river; and the angler in question was a "noticeable man." He was of uncommon stature-a large and portly figure, brandishing with both hands a rod which commanded the stream on either side-while, being immersed to the waist, his fair round belly seemed to project like a dark rock when in the shallow water, and in the deep current to rest and float on the surface of the waters like the hull of some rich argosy.

Our friend could not help looking back more than once at this singular figure, until he suddenly observed the angler quit the stream, get out upon the bank, and hasten towards him with shouts which seemed a signal of distress. On his closer approach, our medical friend observed that the countenance of the fisherman, naturally bluff and jolly, and not unfitted to correspond with the height of his stature and importance of his paunch, seemed disordered and convulsed with pain. He begged earnestly to know if our acquaintance had in his basket a flask with spirits of any kind, complaining, at the same time, of an attack of cramp in the stomach which gave him intolerable agony. This was supplied, with all the benevolence which should subsist between brothers of the angle, according to the instructions of their patriarch, Izaak Walton. When the tall fisherman had experienced the relief which the cordial drop afforded, our informer told him his profession, and enquired whether these attacks were frequent, and whether they seemed constitutional. "Very frequent," answered the lusty edition of "Piscator," "and I am afraid rooted in my system."-"In that case, sir," replied our friend, "allow me to tell you that fishing, or at least wading while you fish, is the most dangerous amusement you could select for yourself.""I know it," said the poor patient, dejectedly. "Assure yourself," pursued the physician, "that your very life depends upon your forbearing to pursue your sport in the manner you do." The intelligence seemed nothing new to our forlorn angler. "I know it, sir," he said, “I have been told so by the best doctors-but," he added, with an air of stoical yet rueful resignation, that might have graced a man who sacrificed life to some weighty duty, "Heaven's will be done! I cannot live without fishing, and without wading I can never catch a fin." So saying, the Giant thanked his adviser, went back to the spot where he had left his rod, and was seen a few minutes afterwards bowel-deep in the stream.

tion of this devoted angler, to whom life was nothing without wading waist-deep after trouts. In the course of the year he saw his death announced by the newspapers. He was found dead on the banks of his favourite stream-nota-bene, no brandy flask. Halieus and we ourselves have each a portion in this sad story, and may part stakes upon it; for while he fortifies his doctrine concerning wet feet by this doleful example, we are entitled to hang a label, with sic evitabile, round the neck of a certain vade-mecum, which John Bunyan allows even to pilgrims, and without which, in our humble opinion, no wanderer ought to walk the world.

Indeed, after all, we have difficulty in separating our pleasant recollections of the exercise of fishing from the green bank where we rendez-voused at noon-our slice of cold beef and a gentle flirtation which we held with that same flask, after the manner of the cavaliers of Cervantes and the picaros of Gil blas. So, perhaps, we do not after all possess the genuine admiration of the sport itself, abstractedly considered; and the want of this undivided ardour may be at once the cause and the consequence of the imperfect progress we have made in the art. This at least all the world, and the subjects of our criticism in particular, will be ready to verify, that our indifferent success cannot arise from any want of equanimity and good nature. -We must recollect, however, that we are taking the privilege of a sportsman, to which we are by no means entitled, and prating about our exploits and recollections of field sports, while our readers have no game to eat by way of indemnification. The fact is, that whenever we "babble of green fields" we feel a tendency to lose our way. We will, however, endeavour to proceed more methodically in future, and to give something like a general account of "Salmonia," before proceeding further with our miscellaneous remarks.

The book is confessedly written in the conversational form and discursive style of old Izaak Walton, whose "Complete Angler," augmented with a second part, has long been a standard work of our language; and has passed through so many editions, as to ascertain its undiminished attractions, in spite of the fashion of all things that passes away. The form of both works is the same in the outline. In each, a zealous fisher is the Coryphæus of the dialogue, who replies to the objections made to his art by a friend who has prejudices against the pursuits of the angler-confutes him by reasons, introduces him to the practice of the art which he had vindicated in theory -teaches him the secrets upon which success depends and familiarizes him with those innocent accessory pleasures which render the simplest and most accessible of country sports the most agreeable also to a person of calm and contemplative habits.

In comparing the two treatises, the authors occur to our imagi

in their general habit-the scalloped hat, the dalmatique, and the knobbed and spiked staff-which equalize all who assume the character; corresponding no less in the humble mien, and unpretending step, with which they approach the object of their common reverence, and sympathizing also in the feeling of devotion which, for the time, lessens all temporal distinctions, whether resting upon distinction of rank or difference of intellect. Yet, though alike in purpose, dress, and demeanour, the observant eye can doubtless discern an essential difference betwixt those devotees. The burgess does not make his approach to the shrine with the stately pace of a knight or noble; the simple and uninformed rustic has not the contemplative step of the philosopher, or the quick glance of the poet. There is, in short, something of individuality in each personage, which distinguishes advantageously or otherwise, in spite of the circumstances of general resemblance.

The palm of originality, and of an exquisite simplicity which cannot, perhaps, be imitated with entire success, must remain with our worthy patriarch, Izaak. But, on the other hand, his incalculably more limited range of experience of every kind, has, after his first voyage of discovery, left a huge continent of terra incognita for our modern to make the scene of further discoveries, and, though holding the same course, to introduce us to regions of which his predecessor did not even know the existence. This concordia discors, which gives us the power of comparing the habits of remote times, the ideas and senti ments of persons so strongly contrasted, and treating the same subject in such different styles-forms one of the charms of this book, and at the same time makes us look back to old Izaak's with additional interest.

Isaak Walton, a London citizen of the middle of the seventeenth century, does not aspire above his sphere in any particular. His walks are to Finsbury, and up Tottenham Hill; his farthest excursions, even in pursuit of his favourite amusement, only reach Ware and Waltham; his diversion, when there, is the drowsy watching of the immersion of a cork and a quill; and almost all his ideas confined to baits of lob-worms and live maggots. This picture is of a most cockney-like character, and we no more expect Piscator to soar beyond it, and to kill, for example, a salmon of twenty pounds weight with a single hair, than we would look to see his brother linen-draper, John Gilpin, leading a charge of hussars. What is there, we ask, that relieves the low character, we had almost said the vulgarity, of a picture so little elevated and so homely? It is the exquisite simplicity of the good old man, enjoying tranquillity in his own mind, and breathing benevolence to all around him, and expressing himself with such a graceful ease, that the London shopkeeper dapping for chubs,

cheerful heart, to use an expression of his own, wisdom, peace, patience, and a quiet mind did cohabit.*

Our modern Piscator is of a different mould, one familiar equally with the world of books and those high circles in society, which, in our age, aristocratically closed against the pretensions of mere wealth, open so readily to distinguished talents and acquirements. His range, therefore, both of enjoyment and of instruction, is far wider than that of Walton.

The latter carries us no farther than the brooks within a short walk of London, though his rich vein of poetical fancy renders their banks so delightfully rural, by seating himself and his scholar under a honey-suckle hedge during a soft shower, there to sit and sing while gentle rain refreshed the burning earth, and gave a yet sweeter smell to the lovely flowers that embroidered the verdant meadows. Halieus, on the contrary, transports us to the ornate scenes of Denham upon the Colne, where the river is strictly preserved within the park of a wealthy and hospitable proprietor, and gives us the following picturesque description, as a contrast to the unadorned meadows of the Lea.

"Poiet.This is really a very charming villa scene, I may almost say, a pastoral scene. The meadows have the verdure which even the Londoners enjoy as a peculiar feature of the English landscape. The river is clear, and has all the beauties of a trout stream of the larger size,there rapid, and here still, and there tumbling in foam and fury over abrupt dams upon clean gravel, as if pursuing a natural course. And that island, with its poplars and willows, and the flies making it their summer paradise, and its little fishing house, are all in character; and, if not extremely picturesque, it is at least a very pleasant scene, from its verdure and pure waters, for the lovers of our innocent amusement."-Pp. 21, 22.

This Italian and ornamental species of landscape may be compared advantageously with a voyage down a Highland lake, a scene which never disturbed Walton's quiet thoughts even in a dream.

⚫ We cannot resist the temptation to transcribe some sweet verses introduced in the first dialogue of Salmonia, the contribution of a lady, whose elegant genius adorns her high rank:-"A noble lady (says Halieus), long distinguished at court for pre-eminent beauty and grace, and whose mind possesses undying charms, has written some lines in my copy of Walton, which, if you will allow me, I will repeat to you.

More laboured works, thy simple lore Can teach us that thy skilful lines,

Our hearts and senses too, we see,
Rise quickly at thy master hand,
And ready to be caught by thee
Are lured to virtue willingly.
Content and peace,

With health and ease,
Walk by thy side. At thy command
We bid adieu to worldly care,
And join in gifts that all may share.

"Gladly, with thee, I pace along,
And of sweet fancies dream;
Waiting till some inspired song,
Within my memory cherished long,
Comes fairer forth,
With more of worth:
Because that time upon its stream
Feathers and chaff will bear away,

"Poiet. That cloud-breasted mountain on the left is of the best character of Scotch mountains: these woods. likewise, are respectable for this northern country. I think I see islands, also, in the distance: and the quantity of cloud always give effect to this kind of view; and, perhaps, without such assistance to the imagination, there would be nothing even approaching to the sublime in these countries; but cloud and mist. by creating obscurity, and offering a substitute for greatness and distance, give something of an Alpine and majestic character to this region.”—P. 82.

In the continuation of this description, our modern, by what painters call an accident, enlivens his still scenery with a touch of science and painting at once, far beyond the limited sphere of father Walton. The latter has done all that his extent of travel and experience could suggest, when he has taught us to listen to a "friendly contention between the singing birds in an adjacent grove, and the echo whose dead voice lived in a hollow tree near to the top of a primrose hill," or shown us how to beguile time "by viewing the harmless lambs seen leaping securely in the cool shade, while others sported themselves in the cheerful sun, or craved comfort from the swollen udders of their bleating dams." The modern author, in a wild land, calls our attention to a far less usual phenomenon, and describes the flight of an eagle, and the education of its callow brood, with the pencil of a Salvator Rosa, and the accuracy of a Gilbert White.

"Poiet. The scenery improves as we advance nearer the lower parts of the lake. The mountains become higher, and that small island or peninsula presents a bold craggy outline; and the birch wood below it, and the pines above, make a scene somewhat Alpine in character. But what is that large bird soaring above the pointed rock, towards the end of the lake? Surely it is an eagle!

"Hal.-You are right, it is an eagle, and of a rare and peculiar species-the grey or silver eagle, a noble bird! From the size of the animal, it must be the female; and her aery is in that high rock. I dare say the male is not far off.

Phys-I think I see another bird, of a smaller size, perched on the rock below, which is similar in form.

"Hal.-You do it is the consort of that beautiful and powerful bird; and I have no doubt their young ones are not far off.

"Poiet.-Look at the bird! She dashes into the water, falling like a rock, and raising a column of spray; she has fallen from a great height. And now she rises again into the air; what an extraordinary sight!

"Hal.-She is pursuing her prey, and is one of our fraternity,-a catcher of fish. She has missed her quarry this time, and has moved further down towards the river, and falls again from a great height. There! You see her rise with a fish in her talons.

"Poiet.-She gives an interest which I hardly expected to have found to this scene. Pray are there many of these animals in this country?

Hal.-Of this species I have seen but these two, and I believe the young ones migrate as soon as they can provide for themselves; for this solitary bird requires a large space to move and feed in, and does not allow its offspring to partake its reign, or to live near it. Of other species of the eagle, there are some in different parts of the mountains, particularly of the Osprey; and of the great fishing or brown eagle; and I once saw a very fine and interesting sight in one of the Crags of Ben Weevis, near Strathgarve, as I was going, on the 20th of August, in pursuit of black game. Two parent eagles were teaching their offspring-two young birds, the manoeuvres of flight. They began by rising from the top of a mountain in the eye of the sun (it was about mid-day, and bright for this climate). They at first made small circles, and the young birds imitated them; they paused on their wings, waiting till they had made their first flight, and then took a second and larger gyration.always rising towards the sun, and enlarging their circle of flight so as to make a gradually extending spiral. The young ones still slowly followed, apparently flying better as they mounted; and they continued this sublime kind of exercise, always rising till they became mere points in the air, and the young ones were lost, and afterwards their parents, to our aching sight. But we have touched the shore, and the lake has terminated: you are now on the river Ewe "-Pp. 84-86.

In like manner our ancient Piscator's habits make us acquainted