: On the Portraits of English Authors on Gardening with Biographical Notices of Them 2nd edition with considerable additions by Felton Samuel - Gardening Bibliography; Horticulturists England

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There appears the following more modern publications respecting Mr. Evelyn:--

The Encycl. of Gardening enumerates the whole of Mr. Evelyn's works. So does Dr. Watts in his Bibl. Britt.; and Mr. Johnson in his History of English Gardening.

Plott, in his Staffordshire, calls Mr. Cotton "his worthy, learned, and most ingenious friend." Sir John Hawkins thus speaks of him:--"He was both a wit and a scholar; of an open, cheerful, and hospitable temper; endowed with fine talents for conversation, and the courtesy and affability of a gentleman." He farther thus speaks of one of his poems:--"It is not for their courtly and elegant turn, that the verses of Charles Cotton ought to be praised; there is such a delightful flow of feeling and sentiment, so much of the best part of our nature mixed up in them, and so much fancy displayed, that one of our most distinguished living poets has adduced several passages of his Ode upon Winter, for a general illustration of the characteristics of fancy." He must have possessed many endearing qualities, for the benevolent and pious Walton thus concludes a letter to his "most honoured friend, Charles Cotton, Esq.:"--"though I be more than a hundred miles from you, and in the eighty-third year of my age, yet I will forget both, and next month begin a pilgrimage to beg your pardon: for I would die in your favour, and till then will live, Sir, your most affectionate father and friend, Isaac Walton." One cannot wonder at the good old man wishing to visit the courteous and well-bred Mr. Cotton, and to enjoy the intercourse of hospitable urbanity, near the pastoral streams of the Dove, when he had received such an invitation as the following, addressed to his "dear and most worthy friend, Mr. Isaac Walton:"--

Whilst in this cold and blustering clime, Where bleak winds howl and tempests roar, We pass away the roughest time Has been of many years before;

Whilst from the most tempestuous nooks The chillest blasts our peace invade, And by great rains our smallest brooks Are almost navigable made;

Whilst all the ills are so improved, Of this dead quarter of the year, That even you, so much beloved, We would not now wish with us here;

In this estate, I say, it is Some comfort to us to suppose, That, in a better clime than this, You, our dear friend, have more repose;

And some delight to me the while, Though nature now does weep in rain, To think that I have seen her smile, And haply may I do again.

If the all-ruling Power please We live to see another May, We'll recompense an age of these Foul days in one fine fishing day.

We then shall have a day or two, Perhaps a week, wherein to try What the best master's hand can do With the most deadly killing fly:

A day with not too bright a beam, A warm, but not a scorching sun, A southern gale to curl the stream, and, master, half our work is done.

This, my best friend, at my poor home Shall be our pastime and our theme; But then--should you not deign to come, You make all this a flattering dream.

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