of the landlady's own spinning, smelt of lavender 

 But, 

 " A change comes o'er the spirit of my dream." 



The low woody hills have become mountains, and 

 the "boys and girls are changed into a flock of black- 

 faced sheep, with a sun-freckled, red-haired lad, in a 

 blue bonnet, herding them; the broad meadow is 

 reduced to a narrow glen, through which a noisy 

 stream is careering like an untamed Highland poney; 

 and I fancy that I hear a voice addressing the lark, 

 which is hovering in full song above her nest on the 

 mountain side, 



"Bird of the wilderness, blithsome and cumberless, 

 O, to abide in the desert with thee!" 



I wish that I were home again. 



SIMPSON. You are disposed, I think, to " pas- 

 toralize a little." However highly you may admire 

 Walton's book, it is not in much repute among the 

 anglers who fish in the Lea. It is not considered a 

 practical work; and I have known some who, in con- 

 sequence of hearing it much praised, have bought 

 a copy, and, afber trying to read it through, have 

 thrown it aside with expressions of surprise that 

 any person except a priest or a church-going old 

 maid could admire it. 



FISHER What can be expected from men who 

 "blow brains" and fish on a Sunday? Walton's Angler 

 used to be a very scarce book in the north. Indeed 

 until Major published his beautiful edition in 1823, 





