8 DOVE DALE REVISITED 



" Painter. How mean you ? 



" Angler. Here are tools . . . so I'll make a 

 rude copy of the cipher which is over the door 

 of the fishing house." 1 



For some distance from its source it is of 

 small size and not very picturesque. It finds 

 its way to Hartington, and thence pursues its 

 course down the Dales with which I am more 

 or less familiar, and which piscatorially will en- 

 gage my attention for a few days. Beyond the 

 Dales it strays as it lists through broad and fer- 

 tile valleys. It passes through Okeover to Ash- 

 bourne, thence past Snelston and Norbury, near 

 to Uttoxeter, by Sudbury to Tutbury. It passes 

 Eggington, and opposite Bladon Castle it joins 



" The crystal Trent, for fords and fish renowned." 



It is not perhaps generally known that the 

 country is indebted to our charming Dove for 

 one of its sweetest lyrics : for if Tom Moore 

 had never resided on its banks the song, " Those 

 Evening Bells," might never have been written. 



I was reminded of the fact by Mr. Joseph 



Hatton, who has just published a bright Jittle 



^s* 



1 This, however, is an imaginary conversation in 

 Cotton's time, though written in 1847. 



