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This indigested vomit of the sea
Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns,
grows, as 'twere, a king of spades;
In vain for Catholics ourselves we bear:
IZAAK WALTON. This amiable enemy of the finny tribe was born in Stafford, in August 1593. We hear of him first as settled in London, following the trade of a sempster, or linen-draper, having a shop in the Royal Burse, in Cornhill, which was seven feet and a half long, and five wide,' and where he became possessed of a moderate fortune. He spent his leisure time in fishing with honest Nat and R. Roe.' From the Royal Burse, he removed to Fleet Street, where he had one half of a shop,' a hosier occupying the other half. In 1632, he married Anne, the daughter of Thomas Ken of Furnival's Inn, and sister of Dr Ken, the celebrated Bishop of Bath and Wells. Through her and her kindred, he became acquainted with many eminent men of the day. His wife,' a woman of remarkable prudence and primitive piety,' died long before him. He retired from business in 1643, and lived, for forty years after, a life of leisure and quiet enjoyment, spending much of his time in the houses of his friends, and much of it by the still waters, which he so dearly loved. Walton commenced his literary career by writing a Life of Dr Donne, and followed with another of Sir Henry Wotton, prefixed to his literary remains. In 1653 appeared his Complete Angler,' four editions of which were called for before his decease. He wrote, in 1662, a Life of Richard Hooker; in 1670, a Life of George Herbert; and, in 1678, a Life of Bishop Sanderson-all distinguished by naïveté and heart. In 1680, he published an anonymous discourse on the
Distempers of the Times.' In 1683, he printed, as we have seen, Chalkhill's "Thealma and Clearchus, and on the 15th of December in the same year, he died at Winchester, while residing with his son-in-law, Dr Hawkins, Prebendary of Winchester Cathedral.
Walton is one of the niost loveable of all authors. Your admiration of him is always melting into affection. Red as his
hand is with the blood of fish, you pant to grasp it and press it to yours. You go with him to the fishing as you would with a bright-eyed boy, relishing his simple-hearted enthusiasm, and leaning down to listen to his precocious remarks, and to pat his curly head. It is the prevalence of the childlike element which makes Walton's 'Angler' rank with Bunyan's 'Pilgrim,' 'Robinson Crusoe,' and White's 'Natural History of Selborne,' as among the most delightful books in the language. Its descriptions of nature, too, are so fresh, that you smell to them as to a green leaf. Walton would not have been at home fishing in the Forth or Clyde, or in such rivers as are found in Norway, the milk-blue Logen, or the grass-green Rauma, uniting, with its rich mediation, Romsdale Horn to the tremendous WitchPeaks which lower on the opposite side of the valley ;-the waters of his own dear England, going softly and somewhat drowsily on their path, are the sources of his inspiration, and seem to sound like the echoes of his own subdued but gladsome spirit. Johnson defined angling as a rod with a fish at one end, and a fool at the other; in Walton's case, we may correct the expression to 'a rod with a fish at one end, and a fine old fellow—the ae best fellow in the world”-at the other”.
• In wit a man, simplicity a child.' We have given a specimen of the verse he intersperses sparingly in a book which is itself a complete poem.
THE ANGLER'S WISH.
These crystal streams should solace me,
2 Or on that bank feel the west wind
Breathe health and plenty: please my mind
And then washed off by April showers!
Here hear my Kenna sing a song,
3 Or a leverock build her nest:
Here give my weary spirits rest,
4 There sit by him and eat my meat,
There see the sun both rise and set,
JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER. We hear of the Spirit of Evil on one occasion entering into swine, but, if possible, a stranger sight is that of the Spirit of Poesy finding a similar incarnation. Certainly the connexion of genius in the Earl of Rochester with a life of the most degrading and desperate debauchery is one of the chief marvels of this marvellous world.
John Wilmot was the son of Henry, Lord Rochester, and was born April 10, 1647, at Ditchley in Oxfordshire. He was taught grammar at the school of Burford. He then entered a nobleman’ into Wadham College, when twelve years old, and at 1661, when only fourteen, he was, in conjunction with some others of rank, made M.A. by Lord Clarendon in person. Pursuing his travels in France and Italy, he went in 1665 to sea with the Earl of Sandwich, and distinguished himself at Bergen in an attack on the Dutch fleet. Next year, while 1 Probably his dog.