_A Conference at Supper between the_ Angler, _the_ Painter, _and the_
Host.
_Angler._
How do you, Mr. Marsh?
_Host._ Gentlemen, your servant at command.
_Painter._ Can we have good entertainment and clean beds at your house?
_Host._ Sir! we shall do our utmost to give you satisfaction: and for
beds, I may say there are not better in the Peak, with ‘sheets laid up
in lavender.’ What, ho! boy, take these gentlemen’s fish pannier and
angle rods. Will it please you, Sirs, to walk into the parlour?
_Angler._ It is well; and the sooner you can make ready for supper the
better pleased we shall be; for we have walked all the way from Derby;
and here is a brace of trouts: but look you, Mr. Marsh, one condition I
would make, and that is, you dress them according to a fancy I have.
_Host._ Sir, you shall be obeyed; nevertheless we have a notable method
for boiling a trout or grayling in these parts, that I never knew to
displease any anglers.
_Angler._ But if you know not the manner recommended by Mr. Cotton, who
lives at Beresford Hall, I shall not be persuaded to think them
skilfully done.
_Host._ Sir, I am now your most humble servant, and willing to dress
these trouts according to your wishes, seeing you approve the method of
noble Mr. Cotton.
_Painter._ Then you know Mr. Charles Cotton, of Beresford Hall?
_Host._ That, Sir, by your leave, I should do, and know him well too;
for I was a servant in the family when his right honourable father lived
at the hall, of whom only this I may declare, he was loved and esteemed
for his gentle qualities of nature by the late most learned Lord
Chancellor[22] of Oxford and England, and was united with him in the
same bold and generous zeal for the service of the late king, of pious
memory: and I was the first that taught Mr. Charles Cotton, in his happy
youthful days, to fish in the River Dove, when he was a mere schoolboy,
and to mew and cast and lure his falcon-gentles, and all manner of
hawks. And since that time he has often had me to a day’s fishing with
him, and by his native condescension makes me find myself at ease in his
company, notwithstanding my humble conditions.
_Angler._ Indeed! then I may tell you this gentleman and myself have
come all the way from Derby, and some miles beyond that, to find his
fishing-house, and to spend a day or two angling in the vallies of the
Dove.
_Host._ You are not the first gentlemen by many, that have done this;
and you will not think your labour lost when you have seen the
Fishing-house; for that it is a wonderful ingenious place, and most
skilfully adorned, no person, who has seen it, can deny. But will you be
pleased to sit down in these elbow chairs, and rest yourselves till the
trouts are ready.
_Painter._ Willingly: for I could not walk another Derbyshire mile, if
it were to purchase a king’s ransom. And now, Mr. Marsh, I pray you,
look to the supper, that it be served quickly, for we are nigh famished.
_Angler._ And remember to give the trouts ‘_three scotches with a
knife_.’
_Host._ Aye, Sir, ‘_and to the bone on one side only_.’ I go to see it
done as you desire.——
_Angler._ Did you observe, brother, how this honest host, for such I
doubt not he is, took up the words of Mr. Cotton? You may depend he hath
read the ‘_Instructions how to angle for a trout or grayling in a clear
stream._’ We are like to pass a pleasant evening here at Alstonfields,
and to learn more of Mr. Cotton, and of his ‘_pretty moorland seat_’
than we had any hope to do when we began our journey. What a neat
parlour is here, and the boards all sanded over!
_Painter._ And see how mine host has garnish’t out his walls with little
pictures; here’s the history of Judith, and Susanna, and Daniel in the
lion’s den; and the furniture not amiss; the oaken cabinet, and tables
polished like a mirror.
_Angler._ And here are books in the window; look you, Fox’s Book of
Martyrs, and Bishop Taylor’s ‘Holy Living and Dying;’ and here before
all other books, is the GREAT BIBLE,[23] that King James caused to be
translated out of the Hebrew and Greek tongues by those _forty-seven_
most pious and learned divines of our holy church, thereby opening to
the people of these realms those fountains of living waters, more
precious than rivers of gold; for he that thirsteth after them in an
honest and believing heart, shall hear THE SPIRIT AND THE BRIDE SAY,
‘=Come; let him that is athirst come; and whosoever will, let him take
of the water of life freely=.’[24] Happy were they to be chosen—thrice
happy to unlock and deliver to all ages the mysterious treasures of
God’s Holy Word. Of these I may not forget charitable Dr. Launcelot
Andrewes.
_Painter._ He that refused to be consecrated a bishop, because he would
not be persuaded to give a helping hand in the spoil of the
ecclesiastical revenues.
_Angler._ Nor less happy in this surpassing work was Dr. Adrian Saravia,
of so sweet a nature, and dispositions so notable, that he was joined to
Mr. Hooker in a bosom friendship, which was only ended by death, when
that judicious champion of our church thought himself happy to die in
the arms of him he loved with so confiding a love.
_Painter._ This gift to his people of the English Bible was indeed a
‘ΒΑΣΙΛΙΚΟΝ ΔΟΡΟΝ’ worthy of a king,[25] and seeing these books of our
host, I am more inclined to entertain good thoughts of him: but here he
comes.
_Angler._ And the supper too. You have lost no time, Mr. Marsh.
_Host._ Gentlemen, I hope you may find it to be as well done as quickly,
for that is what I desired; and I have spared nothing to make them to
your taste, even to the ‘_little handsome faggot of rosemary, thyme, and
winter savory_,’ that Mr. Cotton bids us ‘_throw into the liquor_.’
_Angler._ Well then, let us say grace for these mercies we have, and now
fall to it. Come, this is excellent, and, as I profess myself to be an
angler, I have not tasted trouts more seasonable:—Apicius himself could
not have desired them more daintily dressed.
_Host._ Sir, I am glad you find them to your liking.
_Angler._ And now, what say you of your barley wine?
_Host._ Sir, it is well known how the Staffordshire ale is the best in
England, or as good as any; and though I would not be thought a
braggart, I may say that mine is second to none in the county.
_Angler._ Then bring us a good flagon; for I long to drink Mr. Cotton’s
health in a full cup at Alstonfields:—Now brother.
_Painter._ With all my heart—here’s to Mr. Cotton.
_Angler._ Mr. Cotton, the dear friend of Mr. Izaak Walton!
_Host._ Sirs, I thank you for your kind thoughts towards my master, and
there is not a worthier gentleman lives than Mr. Cotton; and may I be so
bold to ask how you find our Staffordshire ale?
_Angler._ It is excellent, and no lack of malt in’t.
_Host._ And now, Gentlemen, here is meat, with a fresh sallet; and my
good dame has prepared some confections, and tossed a sweet pancake.
_Angler._ This mutton is as good as your ale.
_Painter._ It is all excellent; thanks to you and our good hostess:
‘small cheer and great welcome make a merry feast;’ but you are liberal
with both: and now we have finished our supper, what say you, brother,
have you an inclination to a pipe?
_Angler._ I am nothing loath.
_Painter._ And I’m for another jug of that nappy ale, if you do not fear
it.
_Angler._ I fear nothing in your discreet company: so, Mr. Marsh, bring
us pipes, and some more of your Staffordshire ale, and let there be a
toast and sugar in’t, with a little spice of nutmeg.
_Painter._ Aye, aye, and a race or two of ginger.
_Host._ Sirs, it shall be as you desire; and with all diligence.—— ——
_Angler._ And now, brother, what think you of our host?
_Painter._ In sooth, a modest, well-spoken man, with a decent composure
of carriage; not like some of your would-be-witty tapsters, that have ‘a
finger in all trades, and an oar in every man’s boat.’
_Angler._ And that is my opinion of him; and so, when he returns, if you
stand not on scruples, let us invite him to sit with us awhile; for I
would ask him some questions about Mr. Cotton and his fishing-house.——
_Host._ Gentlemen, here is a tankard of spiced ale, with pipes, and the
best tobacco I have.
_Angler._ I doubt not the quality of your tobacco, but I always carry my
own; and now, Mr. Marsh, if you will give us the pleasure of your
conversation awhile, and smoke a pipe from my box, you shall be heartily
welcome.
_Host._ Sirs, I humbly thank you; but I pray you to excuse me: I would
not be thought to grow presumptuous because you are pleased to be
familiar.
_Painter._ Nay, Mr. Marsh, stay not on a punctilio; we would have your
company, if it be only to drink Mr. Cotton’s good health; and here’s my
Virginia, so fill your pipe.
_Angler._ One cup to the noble master of Beresford: pr’ythee be seated,
Mr. Marsh.
_Host._ Gentlemen, since you desire me this honour, I shall obey as I
ought, and heartily thank you.——Sirs, I make bold to drink your health,
wishing you all possible pleasure hereabouts on the banks of the Dove,
and good success with your angle rods.
_Painter._ It promises so many natural beauties, that I expect to find
it as pleasant a river as I have seen.
_Angler._ Say the pleasantest of all, good brother.
_Painter._ First let me see the fishing-house; and then, perhaps, I may
be brought to join in your opinion. Shall we be permitted to visit that
spot?
_Host._ Doubt it not, Sir: you that have read Mr. Cotton’s second part
of the COMPLETE ANGLER, may readily believe how he inclines to Gentlemen
fishers, seeing he has therein clearly depicted his own likeness; for I
may declare to you my master has an alluring suavity and a singular
freedom of spirit. Therefore he will never refuse a liberty to civil
strangers, to see his fishing-house: indeed, I have known him to send
his servants to the river, with meat and ale for their refreshment; or
sometimes, if they be anglers, invite them to the house. And it was
after this manner the first accidental rudiments of that friendship
sprung up betwixt himself and brave Colonel Richard Lovelace. I remember
he found that gentleman to be endowed with such a ripeness of wit, and
zeal for the king’s cause, that he persuaded him to a long forgetfulness
of his intended journey to London, and then was so unwilling to lose his
conversation and company, that he made an occasion to go to Ashbourne,
that he might conduct him so far on horseback by Hanson Toot and
Bentley.[26]
_Angler._ I have heard say that Colonel Lovelace was afterwards, in his
distress, a constant partaker of Mr. Cotton’s open and generous
disposition.
_Host._ Alas! Sir, his disposition is over generous for his fortunes;
and it is famous in all the Peak, that Mr. Cotton is now detained from
Beresford against his desires, lest his enemies should incommode him.
_Angler._ Say not so: I would not have it true, that a gentleman of so
high a candour and of such worth should be an exile from his estates.
_Host._ Were it other than true, I should indeed be happy: he has none
but friends in all this country, unless it be some remnant of those
injurious and rank weeds that sprung up through the Commonweal under the
late tyranny. He is of a clear courage, like his noble father; and both
manifested a constant loyalty for the king, during the frenzy of those
rugged times.
_Painter._ It may be this brought against him a part of his present
cares.
_Host._ Alas, it did that; for it is a known truth how the estate was
encumber’d on his Majesty’s behalf: and indeed my master showed himself
to be a loving subject in those sad distractions, when there was a
danger so much as to be thought of the royal party. And another great
charge was to enrich his house and grounds with all manner of curious
ornamental art, in so much that they be noted in these parts for a
garden of devices. And some of our chiefest nobility think themselves
happy in Mr. Cotton’s friendship; as Lord Jermayne, and the most noble
Earl of Devonshire,[27] who lives in his stately mansion at Chatsworth,
and permits a familiarity with him; nay, I have seen them practise with
foils in our great Hall, and notwithstanding the Earl has the longer arm
and is esteemed a very dextrous fencer, he cannot, with all his
_parries_, defend himself against Mr. Cotton’s _counterpoint_ and
skilful _disengagements_.
_Painter._ I pray you, what age is Mr. Charles Cotton?
_Host._ Sir, Mr. Cotton was born forty-seven years, gone the 28th of
last month: but he is yet in the morning and flower of his life; and to
look at him you might believe him to be less than forty, by reason of
his youthful carriage and comeliness; and when he converses with his
inferiors, such as myself and others, who have the happiness to call him
our master, the sweetness of his discourse and his discreet familiarity
expels every fear. And then, Sir! if you could see him, (as I have
often,) in his suit of slashed velvet, or rich taffeta, you would be
sure he was bred at court; indeed, he is notable for his comportment and
alluring person. Nevertheless, I have sometimes seen him transported
beyond his usual behaviour: and I cannot help me from smiling at a story
of himself, I have heard him relate to his friends.
_Angler._ I beseech you let us have it.
_Host._ Well, Sir! you are to know Mr. Cotton will sometimes have
a slight hindrance in his speech; and so on a time he found a
stout beggar that sat under the great yew tree, near to the door
of the Hall; whereupon he asked him, with an hesitation,
‘What—d-dost—d-do—here—f-friend?’—Now it chanced the beggar had
the same infirmity of speech with noble Mr. Cotton, but greater;
so he began to stammer in his answering, and make wry words and
looks; upon this, Mr. Cotton, thinking he mocked at him, seized
the man on a sudden, and declared he was a sturdy rogue, and he
would teach him his manners, and have him put in the flocks.
Thereupon the other, in his fright, could not but stut the more,
seeing how obnoxious he was to so fine a gentleman; till at length
Mr. Cotton, finding it to be a real entanglement in the fellow’s
speech, was all at once mollified, and did humbly ask pardon for
his first severity; and after that fell a laughing, and with
pleasant persuasions called him into his house, and feasted him
there, till the beggar thought himself as g-great as a L-Lord.
_Painter._ Ah! ha! ha! a mighty pleasant story.
_Angler._ I dare to think the beggar was not the only guest at the Hall
that has tasted of Mr. Cotton’s good cheer.
_Host._ Sir, you are right; and I well remember, when my master resolved
to build the fishing-house, and that Prospect Tower, that you shall see
to-morrow, he engaged a master architect from the town of Nottingham, to
see that the stone-work was skilfully managed. This was Mr. Lancelot
Rolston,[28] a man of solid abilities, and instructed in many arts; and
because he was of a fertile wit, and withal a brother of the angle, Mr.
Cotton held him to be, as he always proved himself, a brave gentleman
and a scholar, and after a time, entered into a familiarity with him,
which hath continued to this day:—but Sirs,—I humbly ask your pardon;—I
would not be thought to venture myself on your civility, nor take too
much of the conversation.
_Painter._ Trust me, we think ourselves happy in these testimonies of
Mr. Cotton; but see, the ale tarries with you; so fill your cup, and let
us hear further of Mr. Rolston.
_Host._ Well then, Sir, as I told you, that architect was often
persuaded by Mr. Cotton to come to him at Beresford; and I cannot doubt
was largely rewarded; and this was only reasonable, seeing he was a
famous man in these parts, and above all a delicate limner. And so it
happened on a time, when he came all the way from Nottingham to give
order for the works, that Mr. Cotton greatly desired his company one day
more at Beresford, that he might finish some landskip pictures in the
fishing-house. This the other could not do with convenience to himself,
at that time; therefore he asked leave to be gone after dinner. But Mr.
Cotton did so entertain his guest with good wine, and better
conversation, that the architect forgot, or would not care for his
journey, until the night was come. Then Mr. Cotton told him how there
was no moonlight, and he might chance to break his neck between this and
Ashbourne, whither his occasions called him, and endeavoured to persuade
him it would be more prudent to take his bed at the Hall, and promised
he might depart early the next morning. But the other declared he was
able to find his way by Hanson Toot and Bentley Brook, though he were
hoodwinked.
Well, Sirs, Mr. Cotton seeing him bent on his dark journey, secretly
desired his servants should bring one of his own horses from the stable;
and when the architect mounted into his saddle with alacrity, not seeing
how he had another man’s jennet, Mr. Cotton wished him a good journey at
the gate with a secret mirthful composure. And so the other got to
Ashbourne and slept at the Talbot Inn; and on the morrow, when the
hostler brought him the nag, how was he then astonished to find he had
not his own beast; and declared the man was not awake to give him such a
sorry jade. Then the other humbly disabused him, and said, he knew the
horse these many a year, for it was noble Mr. Cotton’s at Beresford
Hall.
_Angler._ Bravely done: and what followed?
_Host._ Then the architect began unwillingly to perceive how my master
had served him this facetious turn; and because the exchange was not to
his advantage, he considered it was best for him to come again to
Beresford; and so he did, as Mr. Cotton hoped he would: then they
laughed together at the innocent fraud thus put upon him, and Mr.
Rolston, being in a happy mood, set his thoughts to work, and painted
all that day, and the day after, in the fishing-house, and contrived
some natural imitations of the rocks and other prospects thereabouts.
_Angler._ Excellent!
_Painter._ I doubt not the limnings are traced with a dextrous freedom.
_Host._ Aye, truly; and some ornaments of his workmanship are there,
which I hope to make you welcome to, more worthy than the landskips: for
it chanced in the last summer, when Mr. Izaak Walton passed some
peaceful days at Beresford, this artist rode thither from Nottingham;
and nothing would content my master, but he must have Mr. Walton’s
portraiture, painted from the life in colours on the pannel of the
beaufet, opposite to the mantel in the fishing-house. But Mr. Rolston
declared, with many protestations, he was not skilful painter enough for
such endeavours. Thereupon a friendly contest arose between all three;
for Mr. Walton liked not the motion, and was so modest as to insist that
the fishing-house should be better graced with the picture of Mr. Cotton
himself, who was the happy inventor of it. Nevertheless my master would,
for this time, have his pleasure, and did entreat Mr. Walton to sit with
an angler’s professed patience, and suffer Mr. Rolston to paint his
likeness; and moreover, he promised he would read them a book and
converse the while. And then he opened the beaufet, and said gaily; Now,
Sir, can you resist the temptation of ‘_The Shepheards’ Oracles,
delivered in certain Eglogues, by Francis Quarles_?’ Whereupon Mr.
Walton replied, There you touch me nearly, and I promise to sit and
listen quietly, if you will be pleased to read aloud _Canonicus’_, the
Shepheard’s, reproofs against the scismatical _Anarchus_. That will I,
(then my master said,) but first I crave leave to entertain Mr. Rolston
with your friend John Marriott’s address to the Reader; and he will not
think it the less ingenious when I make bold to declare that some other
pen than the Printer’s (then he looked with a meaning at Mr. Walton)
hath touched the description of Francis Quarles, as he ‘walked down
towards the brook, furnished with all proper angle rods, lines, and
flyes.’
_Angler._ I remember, he fell in with some Arcadian shepheardesses,
keeping the festival of their great god Pan. Would I could repeat it,
for it is a sparkling allegory, especially suitable to all fishermen.
_Host._ Sir, I have the book itself, locked up in this cabinet.
_Angler._ Indeed! then, I beseech you, let us look into it, that my
brother may judge whether or no Mr. Walton had a hand in the composition
of that address to the Reader.
_Host._ Sir, here it is.
_Angler._ The ‘SHEPHEARDS’ ORACLES:’[29] and look, brother, at this
significant frontispiece, engraved by W. M.; there is the tree of the
Church, that a mixed close-cropped rabble of schismatics are picking and
digging at, if by any means they may uproot it from the earth. And there
is that man of a tub who has pierced through and through the books of
the Liturgy and the Canons: and the Jesuit, with his Roman knife,
stripping the bark. But our late pious king, with his sword and sceptre,
makes a rout of them, whilst the careful Bishop holds the loved tree in
his embrace, and nurtures the roots with the waters of sound doctrine.
_Painter._ And from above the sword of the Spirit invincibly spread out
to protect His church, as if to say, ‘_I will contend with him that
contends with thee, and I will save thy children_.’[30] But for the
Printer’s address?
_Angler._ Listen. — — — After some notice of the lamented death of
Francis Quarles, the reader is ‘_requested to fancy that the author was
walking a gentle pace on a summer’s morning towards a brook, not far
distant from his peaceful habitation, fitted with angle, lines, and
flyes, proper for the fruitful month of May, intending all diligence to
beguile the timorous trout; when he observed a more than common
concourse of shepheards, all bending their unwearied steps towards a
pleasant meadow within his present prospect, and had his eyes made more
happy to behold two fair shepheardesses strewing the foot paths with
lillies and lady-smocks, so newly gathered by their fair hands that they
yet smelt more sweet than the morning, and immediately he met (attended
with Clora and Clorinda, I think were their names, and many other wood
nymphs,) the fair and virtuous Parthenia, who after a courteous
salutation, told him that the neighbour-shepheards of that part of
Arcadia had dedicated that day to be kept holy to the honour of their
great god Pan; she told him also that Orpheus would be there, and bring
his harp, Pan his pipe, and Titerus his oaten-reed to make music at the
feast; she therefore persuaded him not to lose, but to change that day’s
pleasure_.’ And (not to detain you with the whole) you are to believe
this first acquaintance of the Author with the single-hearted shepheards
grew into a friendship; and he would often ‘_rest himself among them and
their flocks feeding about them, in the calm evening, as he returned
from his river recreations, and heard that discourse which (with the
Shepheards’ names) is presented in these Eglogues_.’
_Host._ Thus Mr. Walton was enticed to patience; for my master knows his
humour, and is never so happy as when he can give him pleasure.
_Painter._ And, if I may judge by these images of rural life, Mr. Walton
himself had some participation in the address.
_Angler._ And doubtless he knew that he might claim Francis Quarles for
a worthy brother of the angle.
_Painter._ What would I not have given to witness the freedom of those
three contented gentlemen in the fishing-house!
_Host._ Sirs, I would that you, who are so great lovers of angling, had
there seen the sweet compliance and resignation of Mr. Walton: his
particular smiling gravity seasons all his actions, and by little and
little the limner became so enamoured of his countenance that he stamped
his very image against the pannel of the cabinet; yet all the while he
professed he could not manage it with truth to the original. I well
remember what a joy Mr. Cotton expressed by his words and countenance,
when the portrait was finished, because he should never be in want of a
lively image of his ‘dear adopted father.’
_Angler._ And I may prophecy that the portraiture of our excellent
master will be cherished for ages yet to come by all anglers, who may
gather from his lineaments the blessedness of a peaceful spirit.
_Host._ After this was finished, Mr. Walton declared he would have a
reward for his conformableness, and be permitted to take his recreation
by the river: and so it was agreed that he and Mr. Cotton should have a
bout of fishing.
_Angler._ Pr’ythee leave not a word untold of his methods of angling.
_Host._ Well, then, Sir! Mr. Cotton gave order to his serving-boy to
bring the rods and fishing-harness from the Hall: and to work they went.
Then my master, seeing how Mr. Walton silently busied himself in fixing
a worm on the arming of his hook, challenged him to fish with the fly;
whereat the other with his own smile (that shews he hath no other season
than a continual spring within) answered him; ‘Nay, Sir, I hope to catch
more pounds of fish with my brandlings before supper time, than you
shall do with all your choicest flies.’ To this Mr. Cotton replied: ‘Say
you so? Let that be a match between us; hither boy! bring my landing net
and pannier, and let us down the stream below the swifts.’ Then he
desired I would attend carefully on Mr. Walton; and said, ‘Farewell Mr.
Piscator, and look how you put your angle to good use, for now you are
not on the banks of your Lea, but must fish in clear Derbyshire
streams:’ to which the other returned him a pleasant nod of the head;
and all the while he had prepared his tackling, without any noise, and
dropped his line with a sober mischievous look into the Pike Pool: then
seeing his quill to dip suddenly, he answered with a gaiety, ‘Anon, Sir!
look you there;—for I am certain I have a nabble.’
_Host._ And true it was, for he hook’d a trout, and, you may believe me,
a big one.
_Painter._ I suspect he had an old acquaintance with that pool.
_Host._ And he handled his fish with a singular discretion, and then I
landed him by his desire in the net. No sooner did Mr. Cotton see this,
than he was suddenly resolved to be away, and said: ‘Marry, Sir! that is
an ill omen for my match. Come, boy! the wind sets from this bank, keep
aloof from the stream:’ and with that he went towards a choice part
lower down, where an angler, that is an artist, may scarce miss his
entertainment.
_Angler._ You waited then on Mr. Walton? I am ready to envy you such a
pleasure, and the advantage of learning some of his devices in angling.
_Host._ Believe me, Sir, you would also love to hear him discourse; for
he proportions all he says with a most pleasing contexture of grave and
cheerful things, and delights in contemplating the beauty and order of
the works of God; and he naturally turns the thoughts of his companions
to the Great Architect, that contrived the wonderful structure of them;
persuading them to the belief that the most true, and only secure,
happiness is in virtue.
_Painter._ That is a cheerful industrious Christian, who doth not lay up
religion like a suit, to be kept for holidays; but sucks divinity out of
every flower, and in a secret way turns it into honey.
_Host._ And all the while he discourses, you may see him handle his rod
with a master’s skill: and he has some commixture of oil and gums, or
other experimental artifices, that most anglers have no knowledge of, to
tempt the trouts to his hook.
_Angler._ I have not a doubt it is that receipt of his friend, Richard
Roe, as given by Mr. John Davors, in his _Secrets of Angling_; and I can
avouch that it is an excellent good one.
_Would’st thou catch fish?
Then here’s thy wish;
Take this receipt
To anoint thy bait._
‘Thou that desirest to fish with line and hook,
‘Be it in Poole, in River, or in Brook,
‘To blisse thy bait, and make the fish to bite,
‘Loe, here’s a means, if thou cans’t hit it right.
‘Take Gum of Life, fine beat, and laid to soak
‘In Oyle, well drawn from that which kills the Oak:
‘Fish where thou wilt, thou shalt have sport thy fill,
‘When twenty fail THOU shalt be sure to kill.’
PROBATUM.
_It’s perfect and good,
If well understood,
Else not to be told
For silver or gold._[31] R. R.
_Host._ Sir, I know not if this or any other were his charm to tempt the
fishes to his bait; but having quickly landed his second trout, he said,
‘We shall have no more present bites in Pike Pool, seeing we have
disturbed the water; so come, Mr. Marsh, if you please, let us not lose
our time hereabouts, but try some other parts, that we may win our match
from the skilful fly-fisher.’ After that he took a walk higher up the
stream to the fishing-house, and shewed his trouts to Mr. Rolston, who
was still there to give some last touches to the portraiture. Then he so
persuasively entreated the limner to paint him a trout in colours, on
one of the pannels, that the other could not find it in his thoughts to
refuse his request. But Mr. Walton did not beguile his time in the
fishing-house; for he remembered how he was to kill more fishes than Mr.
Cotton, and so he continued his industrious angling until my master
returned again, a little before sunset, and brought with him many brace
of trouts. And then Mr. Cotton said gaily, ‘My service to you, good
gentleman, most patient angler, what have your brandlings done for
you?—hast caught any fish?—it is time to give over.’ To this Mr. Walton
replied, ‘Hold, Sir, but half a minute, and I’ll tell you:’ for at that
very time he had hooked his last trout, and was playing him; and indeed
he managed him with such a craftiness and would not give him a quiet
moment to himself, but forced him with a most gentle violence up and
down the stream, till he was brought to the last extremity; in so much
that Mr. Cotton could not but applaud his skill, when he saw the fish at
his length languishing on the bank. And after that, Mr. Rolston was
called from the fishing-house to be a judge of the contest; and all the
trouts were counted out on the grass; but Mr. Walton’s fishes were more
than the other’s by some pounds in weight; and so it was declared his
bottom fishing had won the match for him; and upon that they all
returned with merry hearts to the Hall. And now, Gentlemen, it may be
expected I should ask your pardon, seeing I have occupied your attention
with this long discourse.
_Angler._ We are greatly beholden to you for so pleasant a history.
_Painter._ And I am glad our walk to-morrow will be along the banks of
the river, and that I am to see those choice limnings in the
fishing-house.
_Angler._ And now let’s to bed. Come, brother, you and I will read a
chapter out of Mr. Marsh’s great Bible; and that will make our sleep the
sweeter, and not hinder our sport to-morrow.
_Painter._ It is well thought, so do you choose for us.
_Angler._ Where all are so exceeding good, I shall not be long before I
suit you. Here is the 23d Psalm of King David, where he testifies to the
loving mercy of God, and how his soul reposed in confidence, that He
would be near to comfort him, and sweeten all his trials. Shall I read
from that?
_Painter._ By all means: for I am of the opinion of St. Basil, that if
all the other books of Scripture could perish, that of the Psalms would
be a sufficient holy amulet to put to flight the enemy of mankind; and I
remember how that Psalm begins—‘_The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not
want: He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside
the still waters._’
_Angler._——[Reads.]
_Painter._ How surprising high are the strains of this joyful hymn,
wherein David pours out the breathings of his faith, which established
him the man after God’s own heart. No language or thought can surpass
those high celestial eulogiums, which have been the prayers of the
church from age to age.
_Angler._ Yet was King David loved of his ‘Shepherd’ before he loved Him
in return; as holy Austin writes, ‘God crowns with acceptance not our
works, but the gifts of His own grace.’
_Painter._ And although David thought it his highest privilege, ‘_to
dwell in the house of the Lord_;’ yet doubtless he looked further than
the sanctuary of Jerusalem to the courts of the heavenly Zion, and to
the eternal abiding of spirits, glorified in the divine presence. For
surely the beatific sights and voices, vouchsafed in after days to the
beloved and holy John, were not unknown to ‘the sweet singer of Israel.’
He understood how the fold and pasturage of his Shepherd did, after a
spiritual sort, foreshadow the final gathering of ‘Christ’s sheep, that
are now dispersed abroad in the midst of this naughty world,’[32] into
the folds of glory. And now, brother, let us betake ourselves to rest,
with King David, praising God for all the health and other blessings we
enjoy, which are but as one drop out of that boundless ocean of joy and
treasure He will hereafter bestow for a life of holiness. Good night.
_All._ Good night.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]