IO8 THE COMPLETE ANGLER. 



Look ! under that broad beech-tree I sat down 

 when I was last this way a-fishing ; and the birds 

 in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly 

 contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed 

 to live in a hollow tree near to the brow of that 

 primrose-hill. There I sat viewing the silver 

 streams glide silently towards their centre, the 

 tempestuous sea ; yet sometimes opposed by 

 rugged roots and pebble-stones, which broke their 

 waves, and turned them into foam. And some- 

 times I beguiled time by viewing the harmless 

 lambs, some leaping securely in the cool shade, 

 whilst others sported themselves in the cheerful 

 sun ; and saw others craving comfort from the 

 swollen udders of their bleating dams. As I thus 

 sat, these and other sights had so fully possessed 

 my soul with content that I thought, as the poet 

 has happily expressed it, 



" I was for that time lifted above earth, 

 And possessed joys not promised in my birth." 



As I left this place and entered into the next 

 field, a second pleasure entertained me : 't was a 

 handsome milkmaid, that had not yet attained so 

 much age and wisdom as to load her mind with 

 any fears of many things that will never be, as 

 too many men too often do ; but she cast away 

 all care, and sung like a nightingale. Her voice 

 was good, and the ditty fitted for it ; it was that 

 smooth song which was made by Kit Marlowe, 

 now at least fifty years ago. And the milkmaid's 



