Flatman's beautiful lines to Walton, (says Mr. Jesse) commencing-- "Happy old man, whose worth all mankind knows Except himself," have always struck us as conveying a true picture of Walton's character, and of the estimation in which he was held after the appearance of his "Angler." The last male descendant of our "honest father," the Rev. Dr. Herbert Hawes, died in 1839. He very liberally bequeathed the beautiful painting of Walton, by Houseman, to the National Gallery; and it is a curious fact, as showing the estimation in which anything connected with Walton is held in the present day, that the lord of the manor in which Dr. Hawes resided, laid claim to this portrait as a heriot, though not successfully. Dr. Hawes also bequeathed the greater portion of his library to the Dean and Chapter of Salisbury; and his executor and friend presented the celebrated prayer-book, which was Walton's, to Mr. Pickering, the publisher. The watch which belonged to Walton's connexion, the excellent Bishop Ken, has been presented to his amiable biographer, the Rev. W. Lisle Bowles. Walton died at the house of his son-in-law, Dr. Hawkins, at Winchester. He was buried in Winchester Cathedral, in the south aisle, called Prior Silkstead's Chapel. A large black marble slab is placed over his remains; and, to use the poetical language of Mr. Bowles, "the morning sunshine falls directly on it, reminding the contemplative man of the mornings when he was, for so many years, up and abroad with his angle, on the banks of the neighbouring stream." * * * * * PRAISE OF ALE. Dr. Still, though Bishop of Bath and Wells, seems not to have been over fond of water; for thus he sings:-- "A stoup of ale, then, cannot fail, To cheer both heart and soul; It hath a charm, and without harm Can make a lame man whole. For he who thinks, and water drinks, Is never worth a dump: Then fill your cup, and drink it up, May he be made a pump." * * * * * DANGEROUS FOOLS. Sydney Smith writes:--If men are to be fools, it were better that they were fools in little matters than in great; dulness, turned up with temerity, is a livery all the worse for the facings; and the most tremendous of all things is a magnanimous dunce. * * * * * BULWER'S POMPEIAN DRAWING-ROOM. In 1841, the author of _Pelham_ lived in Charles-street, Berkeley-square, in a small house, which he fitted up after his own taste; and an odd _melée_ of the classic and the baronial certain of the rooms presented. One of the drawing-rooms, we remember, was in the Elizabethan style, with an imitative oak ceiling, bristled with pendents; and this room opened into another apartment, a fac-simile of a chamber which Bulwer had visited at Pompeii, with vases, candelabra, and other furniture to correspond.