I was at Bowness last week, and they say such a winter for char-fishing was never seen.

While I was on the lakeside, Kit Noble's boat came in.

He had all of twenty dozen in the bottom of it.

Mr.Wordsworth was there too, and he made a piece of poetry about 'The silvery lights playing over them;' and he took me to see a picture that a London gentleman painted of Kit and his boat.

You never saw fish out of the water look so fresh; their olive-green backs and vermillion bellies and dark-red fins were as natural as life.