JET. 62.] LIFE OF 1ZAAK WALTON. liii 



" brother " was merely used to denote a member of the fraternity 

 of Anglers, as Piscator speaks of his friend's wishing to be " a 

 brother of the angle ; " and Peter shortly afterwards drinks to his 

 " young brother's good fortune " on the morrow. A conversation 

 ensues, in which the house and the manner they intend to spend 

 the evening are described in very natural and pleasing language : 



" VENATOR. On my word, Master, this is a gallant trout, what shall we 

 do with him ? 



" PISCATOR. Marry, e'en eat him to supper: we'll go to my hostess, 

 from whence we came ; she told me as I was going out of door, that my 

 brother Peter, a good angler, and a cheerful companion, had sent word he 

 would lodge there to-night, and bring a friend with him. My hostess has 

 two beds, and I know you and I may have the best ; we'll rejoice with my 

 brother Peter and his friend, tell tales, or sing ballads, or make a catch, or 

 find some harmless sport to content us, and pass away a little time without 

 offence to God or man. 



"VENATOR. A match, good Master, let's go to that house, for the linen 

 looks white, and smells of lavender, and I long to lie in a pair of sheets that 

 smell so : let's be going, good Master, for I am hungry again with fishing." 



Before they return, Piscator catches another logger-headed 

 chub, which he hangs on a willow twig, and then indulges in the 

 following observations, which are remarkable for their charming 

 simplicity, and, to use Sir Walter Scott's expression, for their 

 " Arcadian language : " " Let's be going. But turn out of the 

 way a little, good Scholar, towards yonder high hedge. We'll 

 sit whilst this shower falls so gently upon the teeming earth, and 

 gives a sweeter smell to the lovely flowers that adorn the verdant 

 meadows. 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 cave, 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 sometimes viewing the harmless 

 lambs, some leaping securely in the cool shade, whilst others 

 sported themselves in the cheerful sun ; and others were craving 

 comfort from the swollen udders of their bleating dams. As I 

 thus sat, these and other sights had so fully possessed my soul, 

 that I thought, as the poet has happily expressed it : 



' I was for that time lifted above earth ; 

 And possest joys not promis'd in my birth.' 



" As I left this place, and entered into the next field, a second 

 pleasure entertained me, 'twas a handsome milkmaid, that had 



