No life, my honest scholar, no lif e so happy and so pleasant as the 

 life of a well-governed angler; for when the lawyer is swallowed up 

 with business, and the statesman is preventing or contriving plots, 

 then we sit on cowslip banks, hear the birds sing, and possess our- 

 selves in as much quietness as these silent silver streams, which we 

 now see glide so quietly by us. [Izaak Walton. 



Abused mortals, did you know 



Where joy, heart's-ease and comforts grow, 



You'd scorn proud towers, 



And seek them in these bowers, 



Where winds, sometimes, our woods perhaps may shake, 

 But blust'ring care could never tempest make, 



Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us, 



Saving of fountains that glide by us. 



[Charles Cotton. 



