write his life, but his own death prevented the accomplishment of his purpose. It was afterwards written by Hoole, the translator of Tasso; but it is utterly devoid of interest, for his life ran "smooth as his verse:" like Goldsmith's Vicar, all his adventures were by the fire-side, and all his migrations from the blue bed to the brown, or, in Quaker speech, from his country house to that in the city. He was possessed of a fine intellect, though wanting that something which constitutes genius in the man, and can alone impart vitality to his verse. By his contemporaries he was thought highly of, and will be read with pleasure now by those who meet with his works and can listen to the melody of the oaten pipe. One at least of his smaller poems will retain a place in the collections:

"I hate that drum's discordant sound
Parading round, and round, and round.

And burning towns, and ruin'd swains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,

And widows' tears, and orphans' moans," &c.

His poetry is nearly all of the "pastoral" kind, and has the smoothness and neatness, the facile flow, and something of the "refined rusticity" that ought to characterize productions of that class. But there is an absence of human character and interest that soon renders the sweetest pastoral poetry wearisome. Hoole objects to the introduction of so many of the words and phrases in common use; instead of being in the received Idyllic mode, it is like real country life and scenery: his refined taste cannot endure its rusticity. That taste has now happily worn out; the poet was

wiser in that than his biographer. Scott's great defect is his want of strength and life, but there is a Quaker-like simplicity that is very agreeable, at least for a while. His conception of country life is very unlike that of Crabbe-indeed there is a deficiency of nerve in almost all he wrote that causes his placidity and sweetness to cloy. He wrote a great many occasional pieces; his principal work is named from the place that has caused this digression-Amwell. The view from Amwellhill is a very fine one, and we gladly avail ourselves of Scott's description of it, which will serve as a sample of his descriptive style, and be more pleasing, we are sure, to our readers than any account we could give of the prospect :

"How beautiful,

How various is yon view! Delicious hills

Bounding smooth vales, smooth vales by winding streams
Divided, that here glide thro' grassy banks
In open sun, there wander under shade
Of aspen tall, or ancient elm, whose boughs
O'erhang grey castles, and romantic farms,
And humble cots of happy shepherd swains.

Far towards the west, close under shelt'ring hills,
In verdant meads by Lea's cerulean stream,
Hertford's grey towers ascend; the rude remains
Of high antiquity, from waste escap'd

Of envious time and violence of war."

The church is a pretty building, and altogether the place would be very pleasing even without its associations. It is mentioned in Domesday-book under the name of Emme-well, and has been thought to derive its name from a well at the foot of the hill called Emma's-well, which now forms a part of the New River. At Amwell the New River is a little better looking than elsewhere; its banks

are planted with some fine willows, and a little islet adorns the stream. On the isle is a stone with an inscription, referring to the well, by Scott, and the island is mentioned by him in his poem of Amwell:

"Slow beneath that bank the silver stream

Glides by the flowery isle, and willow groves

Wave on its northern verge, with trembling tufts
Of osier intermixed."

"On the hill above the church are traces of a very extensive fortification [Qy. that above referred to], the rampart of which is very distinguishable on the side overlooking the vale through which the river Lea flows. In this parish also, on the side towards Hertford, is Barrow field, wherein is a large tumulus; and not far distant are remains of an ancient road, probably of Roman origin."* These the visitor will discover readily enough, and altogether he may spend an hour or two at Amwell very agreeably.

The scene of Izaak Walton's inimitable book is laid along the banks of the Lea between Tottenham and Ware: that is, along that portion of our river we are now to ramble beside. We have more than once quoted from the 'Complete Angler,' and we cannot refrain from availing ourselves of so fair an opportunity of venturing a few remarks on it and its author. According to Drayton,

"The old Lee brags of the Danish blood,"

but it brags more loudly now of the name of Izaak Walton, to whom indeed it chiefly owes the celebrity of its own name.

Izaak Walton is a remarkable instance of what

* Brayley.

may be effected when out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaks :-from taking up the pen not merely to fill a few sheets, but because there is somewhat to communicate. We meet with nothing profound in his reasoning-a light plummet will sound its lowest depths; nothing in his general remarks that had not been said before and that has not been said a hundred times since; and of course there is little in the main subject of his book that is generally interesting; yet there is not a man with the least pretension to literary taste but reads the Complete Angler' with genuine enjoyment. It is probably the only volume professing to be a mere guide to any particular pastime that, after nearly two centuries, has retained a spark of vitality-yet, although that time has passed away since the first edition was published, it is now read with as much freshness and pleasure as when it first appeared.* Undoubtedly it is not what concerns angling that renders the work so attractive, yet whoever makes the acquaintance of Izaak Walton will assuredly, like Auceps, "part with him full of good thoughts, not only of himself, but of his recreation." Not that Izaak would have been pleased to think that any reader would pass lightly over what he wrote on his favourite art, or think meanly of it; he will not bate one jot of the dignity of angling: "for angling," he tells us, "is somewhat like poetry-a man must be born to it;" while the felicities of its practice he rates equally high :-" no life so happy and so pleasant as the life of a well governed angler; for when the lawyer is swallowed up with business, and the *The first edition of the Complete Angler' was published in 12mo., in 1653.

66

statesman is preventing or contriving plots, then we sit on cowslip banks, hear the birds sing, and possess ourselves in as much quietness as these silent silver streams which we now see glide so quietly by us. Indeed, my good scholar, we may

.say

of Angling as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries"Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did :' and so, if I might be judge, God did never make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling."

Walton's argument in favour of angling is most singularly managed; and the variety of topics and illustrations brought in to support it are not the least singular portion. Nothing that can be introduced is omitted. Everybody who can in any way be made to uphold or do honour to angling is constrained to appear, from Deucalion and Belus to Sir Henry Wotton; and from Seth and Moses to Nat. Roe: and every river, from "that in Arabia of which all the sheep that drink thereof have all their wool turned into a vermilion colour," to that "in Judea that runs swiftly all the six days of the week and stands still on the Sabbath:" while of fish we have all that is wonderful recorded, from "the Balæna or Whirlpool that is so long and broad as to take up more in length and breadth than two acres of ground," to "the fish called a Hermit, that at a certain age gets into a dead fish's shell, and like a hermit dwells there alone, studying the wind and the weather, and so turns her shell that she makes it defend her from the injuries that they would bring upon her." And much more of the like kind have we told us, sometimes in evident good faith, sometimes with a quiet half incredulous smile, hardly less charming.