'FOOT-PRINTS OF IZAAK WALTON.' Many hearty thanks to J. T. F.' for the sketch which ensues. I will now lead you,' says the gentle and pious IZAAK WALTON, in his 'Complete Angler,' to an honest ale-house, where we shall find a cleanly room, lavender in the windows, and twenty ballads stuck about the wall.' Let us, in a kindred spirit, follow our appreciative and nature-loving correspondent to one of the scenes immortalized by WALTON himself; where he and his piscatory confreres full often wiled from the silver stream the speckled prey.' And, good Gothamite, as we so follow our friend, let us think of the chained streams, now 'silent as the ground,' which the blander airs of March shall liberate to the sun; which the soft showers of April shall dissolve in music;' and which May shall people with the beautiful, the 'vari-spotted trout! Ah, it is a pleasure, on this water-cold, boisterous February day to think of these things, in connection with the New-York and Erie Rail-Road, and the hundred trout-streams which will soon throw themselves into the Delaware, and the Susquehanna, and the Chenango, along the line of that great iron thoroughfare! We venture to predict, that within three months from this present writing there will have been a thousand persons gone a-fishing' in those streams and their tributaries.

6

'I AWOKE in London one fine sunny summer morning, possessed with that same longing for the river side which filled the breast of honest VIATOR when he heard the wind singing in his chamber window nearly two hundred years ago. I determined to stretch my legs up Tottenham-Hill and follow on toward Ware and the river Lea, before night-fall; and though I could hardly hope to find an evening welcome at the Thatched-House in Hoddesden, where the Master and Scholar turned in at the close of that still May-day and refreshed themselves with a cup of drink and a little rest, I resolved to reconnoitre the haunts of old IzAAK, peradventuring I might be so fortunate as to take a trout from one of those clear cold streams on whose flowery banks he had so often mused.

It is delightful, says GEOFFREY CRAYON, to saunter along those limpid streams which wander like veins of silver through the bosom of this beautiful country; leading one through a diversity of small home scenery; sometimes winding through ornamented grounds; sometimes brimming along through rich pasturage, where the fresh grass is mingled with sweet-smelling flowers; sometimes venturing in sight of villages and hamlets, and then running capriciously away into shady retirements. The sweetness and serenity of nature, and the quiet watchfulness of the spot gradually bring on pleasant fits of musing; which are now and then agreeably interrupted by the song of a bird, the distant whistle of the peasant, or perhaps the vagary of some fish, leaping out of

"When I would

the still water, and skimming transiently about its glassy surface. beget content,' says IZAAK WALTON, and increase confidence in the power and wisdom and providence of ALMIGHTY GOD, I will walk the meadows of some gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care, and those very many other living creatures that are not only created, but fed (man knows not why) by the goodness of the God of Nature; and therefore trust in him.'

'I had engaged a burly youth to call at my lodgings before sun-rise with his clumsy vehicle, intending to stop on my way through the country at one or two places on the road. One of these spots of interest, which lay directly in the route, is the Bell-Inn at Edmonston, immortalized by COWPER in JOHN GILPIN's ride; and the other the town of Enfield, formerly celebrated for its chase, and more latterly the residence for a season of the author of Elia. My sleepy urchin outstaid his hour so abominably that I was obliged to push on with barely a glance at these places; passing rapidly also by Waltham Cross and Cardinal WOLSEY's manor-house.

'Seventeen miles and a half distant from London, standing at the farther end of Hoddesden in Hertfordshire, we came upon a low cottage, surrounded by a honeysuckle hedge, which promised a shady retreat from the heat of the day, and we accordingly asked the privilege of a seat in the ample back-room, whose nicely-sanded floor, seen through the window, invited the passer-by to repose. As the little hostess `bustled about the apartment, switching here and there a dusty spot with her apron, (we had taken the good woman by surprise,) I delighted to imagine this the identical Thatched-House to which the hunter acknowledged himself to have been 'angled on with so much pleasure.' I took out of my pocket a little copy of The Complete Angler,' and commenced reading as I sat lolling out of the low windows. The afternoon was calm and delightful. The perfumed vines, during a gently falling shower, filled every nook and corner of the cottage with their delicious fragrance. Verdant meadows stretched away to the right as far as the eye could follow their ample bounds while above them, trilling a thousand cheerful melodies, rose high the nimble musicians of the air.' No wonder the contemplative spirit of the devout old angler recognised so much hearty satisfaction in these rural scenes, and that he thought of them as CHARLES the Emperor did of the city of Florence, that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but only on holidays.'

6

''Look,' says IZAAK; 'under that broad beech tree I sat down, when I was last this way a-fishing, and the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree near to the brow of that primrose hill; there I sat viewing the silver streams glide silently toward their centre, the tempestuous sea. . . . . . . As I thus sat,' he continues, these and other sights had so fully possessed my soul with content, that I thought, as the poet has happily expressed it:

'I was for that time lifted above earth;

And possessed joys not promised in my birth.'

With what an honest, earnest zeal, too, the good old man discourses of the innocence of his pastime, insisting all the while that there is no life so happy and pleasant withal as the life of a well-governed Angler; winding up his strain of eulogy with a sweet little poem, prefaced with:

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 never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.'

'After refreshing ourselves with an ample portion of the fruit so highly extolled by the worthy BOTELER, to which the good dame of the cottage added a bowl of her richest cream, we proceeded leisurely along the flower-enamelled road-side to Amwell Hill. It was here, down at the bottom of that hill, in that meadow chequered with water-lilies, the dogs 'put down an otter,' to the great delight of Mr. WALTON and his companion. Here too he wandered in his old age with OLIVER HENLEY,' that noted fisher,' who anointed his bait so secretly with the oil of ivy-berries, incorporating a kind of smell that was so irresistible to trout. Leaning over that little bridge, spanning so prettily the swift current below, we can imagine him busily occupied with his line, especially in such days and times as he tells us he was wont to lay aside business and go a-fishing with honest NAT and R. ROE; but they are gone, he adds pathetically, and with them most of my pleasant hours, even as a shadow, that passes away and returns not."

'About a mile from the village we fell in with a couple of lads returning home with a fine basket of trout, the largest I had ever seen. We joined this lucky party and went on toward Ware, conversing with these small gentlemen on the fishing merits of the River Lea compared with other English streams. Of course their river was the only water worth mentioning; and I was glad to find these young disciples of the rod knew how to appreciate fish whose ancestors had been tickled nearly two centuries ago by the great master of Angling. They had heard their fathers say there was a WALTON once who lived in Amwell, and knew his art.

6

Although the author of the 'The Complete Angler' visited many of the noted fishing places all over England, and knew the Wye, the Trent, and the Dove by heart, no doubt, it is certain that he most frequented the River Lea, which has its source above Ware in Hertfordshire, and falls into the Thames a little below Blackwall. Before he removed from London his favorite recreation was angling, which he seems to have pursued with increasing zest till within a short time of his death, which happened at the age of ninety, in Winchester, in 1683, at the house of his friend Dr. WILLIAM HAW

KINS.

'In the old Norman south transept of one of the chapels belonging to the cathedral, lie entombed the bones of this good old man. As I read the poor inscription to his memory, chiselled on the large black marble stone at Winchester, I felt a momentary regret that a more fitting resting-place had not been allotted him. There is a quiet nook in Staffordshire, near by a spot where he was accustomed to pass much of his time, where a smooth stream runs murmuring round a sloping bank. On this green declivity he has rested no doubt many happy hours during his earthly pilgrimage. It matters little perhaps where repose the mortal remains of a meek, cheerful, thankful heart, but it seems to me there would be a peculiar fitness in appropriating to the memory of IZAAK WALTON a simple unostentatious monument by the side of one of his favorite rivers.

'We drove up to the Saracen's Head' at Ware, just as the old village clock was tolling the hour of eight. It was too late to rig our lines, but being in a mood for tasting trout, I negotiated with our young fishermen-friends for a mess of shiny fellows, and invited the lads to be my guests at the Inn. After satisfying my hunger, and their eager curiosity about America, a country they remembered,' by the way 'to have seen marked down on their maps at school,' I retired to rest, dreaming all night of baiting hooks with artificial flies, and taking myriads of trout from the sunny River Lea.'

J. T. F.

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GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. We acknowledge the courtesy and appreciate the kind spirit of The Independent' weekly religious journal, in its comments upon our last number. While we are well pleased that the choice articles' from our 'Original Papers' should have found favor in the editor's eyes, and not a little gratified that he should include the polished and graceful pen' that records this unpremeditated Gossip' in a kindred category, we are yet grieved that he should have found matter for condemnation in the earnest and devout exhortations of a negropreacher, at variance with the rules of grammar and rhetoric, and the imputed inconsistencies of a nameless deacon.' The editor, let us hope, will do us the simple justice to believe that we should greatly reluct at doing violence to the 'religious feelings' of a single reader of this Magazine. It is almost impossible to preserve the characteristics of persons concerning whom, on the authority of correspondents, anecdotes are related, without employing the rough-hewn terms which they themselves used. As to the 'consecrated cobblers,' the 'sacred and silly gentlemen,' as the Rev. SIDNEY SMITH terms them, who bring contempt upon the religion they deem themselves especially anointed to proclaim, by ignorance and presumption such as were displayed by the nameless deacon' aforesaid, we consider them fair subjects of exposure. We are

glad to see that in the same columns of The Independent' in which our humble labors are commended and our taste rebuked, there are two religious passages taken from the same pages in which these indicated qualities are said to be exemplified. . . . THEY are beginning in England to disaffect the idea of the QUEEN'S having a pensioned poet-laurate to sing her praises and extol her government. Hence it is that that cleverest of parodists, BON GAULTIER,' imparts to ALFRED TENNYSON this bit of verse:

'Tis I would be the laureate bold!

When the days are hot and the sun is strong,

I'd lounge in the gateway all the day long,

With her MAJESTY'S footmen in crimson and gold.

I'd care not a pin for the waiting-lord,

But I'd lie on my back on the smooth, green sward,
With a straw in my mouth, and an open vest,
And the cool wind blowing upon my breast,
And I'd vacantly stare at the clear blue sky,
And watch the clouds as listless as I,

Lazily, lazily!

'Oh! that would be the life for me!

With plenty to get, and nothing to do,

But to deck a pet poodle with ribbons of blue,
And whistle all day to the Queen's cockatoo,
Trance-somely, trance-somely.

Then the chambermaids that clean the rooms

Would come to the windows and rest on their brooms,
With their saucy caps and their crispéd hair,
And they'd toss their heads in the fragrant air,
And say to each other, Just look down there
At the nice young man, so tidy and small,
Who is paid for writing on nothing at all,
Handsomely, handsomely!'

THAT is a very curious and entertaining booklet, recently issued from the press of our old friend REDFIELD, Clinton-Hall; the liberally-illustrated treatise, namely, entitled Outlines of a new System of Physiognomy,' by J. W. Redfield, M. D. The author's arguments are not founded, like LAVATER'S, upon merely general delineations of different features of the human face. He is particular and specific in the designation of all his physical and mental resemblances, and insists, always with a strong array of proofs, that his theory cannot be shaken. The closest study of the

human face for years, the most complete examination into the minutiae involved in his system, has emboldened the author to announce it as a science, standing upon an irrefragable basis. Our author is very strong in the article' of noses. He gives us drawings of the combative, the relative defensive, the large self-defensive, the aggressive, the imitative, the acquisitive, the reflective, the interrogative, the metaphorical, the secretive, and the suspicious proboscis, with a dozen other distinctively-characteristic noses, which we cannot conveniently take hold of' at this present writing. 'We beg leave,' as newspaper advertisers say, 'to call the attention of our customers' to the sign or symbol of 'analogy,' as indisputably demonstrated in the 'fore-going' (who ever saw a 'following?') nose:

THE sign is seen to be large in this profile of LAVATER. The deficiency of this faculty and its sign is to be observed in those who incline to think of the mind as if it were a development

from the body and external circumstances; and who thus, in studying the mind, proceed from effects to causes, and fail to discover truth. One who has a large sign of this faculty regards the mind of chief importance, and as acting upon the body and manifesting itself in and through material organs. It is very easy for such a person to see that every thing of the body is an index of something prior in the mind; and although he may not discover the exact science of Physiognomy, he will be a firm if not an enthusiastic believer in the existence of such a science. The followers of the BACONIAN method in mental philosophy could never gain much knowledge; and those who study the mind abstractly, and not in its relation to and action upon the body, have been as unsuccessful as the others. But GALL, LAVATER, and many of the ancient philosopers, as ARISTOTLE and THEOPHRASTUS, pursued an opposite method in relation to the mind, and studied character in the features and expressions of the face, the form and size of the head, and other external developments. The sign of this faculty is larger in the ancient philosophers, who excelled in moral and intellectual science, and less in the modern philosophers, who excel in physical science.'

Now any body knows, who knows what every body knows who knows what 'a nose that is a nose' is, that if the fore-going nose expresses character, sagacity, and, in point of fact,' nearly all that a nose is capable of expressing, the ensuing nose is quite another affair. It is not of the longest, and is certainly rather 'retroussé than otherwise. But let us hear what our author says of this high old nose:'

'By the side of a nose like this, a largely-developed forehead shows to a very poor advantage in an intel. lectual point of view, and in respect also to that force and sagacity which should accompany intelligence, as we see by comparing this figure with the fore-going. There is hardly any person to be found so deficient in a talent for physiognomy, unless it be one with such a nose as this, (ah! the satirical knave !) as not to perceive that the grand fault of this face is the nose, and that the fault in the nose is a deficiency in most of those faculties the signs of which have been pointed out. You will remember, however, that the signs of character in the face do not contradict the discoveries of GALL. They explain the exceptions; and it is most true, that if a fine development of the intellectual lobe of the brain accompanies large signs of intellect in the nose, there is more intelligence indicated than if the case is otherwise. The face indicates the voluntary action of the mental faculties; the brain indicates their endurance, without which they could not sustain long-continued exercise.'

Never follow a man who follows such a nose as the 'subjoined;' have nothing to do with such a proboscis as the annexed.' Cur'ous, is n't it, that the habit here indi