accept your offer, and must therefore beg your pardon: I could otherwise, I confess, be glad to wait upon you, if upon no other account but to talk of Mr. Izaak Walton, and to receive those instructions you say you are able to give me for the deceiving a Trout; in which art I will not deny, but that I have an ambition to be one of the greatest deceivers; though I cannot forbear freely to tell you, that I think it hard to say much more than has been read to me upon that subject.

PISC. Well, Sir, I grant that too; but you must know that the variety of rivers require different ways of Angling: however, you shall have the best rules I am able to give, and I will tell you nothing I have not made myself as certain of, as any man can be in thirty years experience, for so long I have been a dabbler in that art; and that, if you please to stay a few days, you shall in a very great measure see made good to you. But of that hereafter; and now, Sir, if I am not mistaken, I have half overcome you; and that I may wholly conquer that modesty of your's, I will take upon me to be so familiar as to say, you must accept my invitation which, that you may the more easily be persuaded to do, I will tell you that my house stands upon the margin of one of the finest rivers for Trouts and Grayling in England: that I have lately built a little Fishing-house upon it, dedicated to Anglers, over the door of which, you will see the two first letters

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of my Father Walton's name and mine, twisted in Cypher;* that you shall lie in the same bed he has sometimes been contented with, and have such country entertainment as my friends sometimes accept; and be as welcome too as the best friend of them all.

VIAT. No doubt, Sir, but my Master Walton found good reason to be satisfied with his entertainment in your house; for you, who are so friendly to a mere stranger, who deserves so little, must needs be exceeding kind and free to him who deserves so much.

Pisc. Believe me, No; and such as are intimately acquainted with that gentleman, know him to be a man who will not endure to be treated like a stranger. So that his acceptation of my poor entertainments, has ever been a pure effect of his own humility and good-nature, and nothing else. But Sir, we are now going down the Spittle Hill into the town; and therefore let me importune you suddenly to resolve, and most earnestly not to deny me.

VIAT. In truth, Sir, I am so overcome by your bounty, that I find I cannot, but must render myself wholly to be disposed by you.

Pisc. Why that's heartily and kindly spoken, and I as heartily thank you; and being you have abandoned yourself to my conduct, we will only call and drink a glass on horseback at the Talbot, and away.

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VIAT. I attend you; but what pretty river is this, that runs under this stone bridge? Has it a name?

Pisc. Yes, 'tis called Henmore; and has in it both Trout and Grayling; but you will meet with one or two better anon. And so soon as we are past through the town, I will endeavour, by such discourse as best likes you, to pass away the time till you come to your ill quarters.

VIAT. We can talk of nothing with which I shall be more delighted, than of Rivers and Angling.

Pisc. Let those be the subjects then; but we are now come to the Talbot; What will you drink, Sir, ale, or wine?

VIAT. Nay, I am for the country liquor, Derbyshire Ale, if you please; for a man should not, methinks, come from London to drink wine in the Peak.

PISC. You are in the right; and yet let me tell you, you may drink worse French wine in many taverns in London, than they have sometimes at this house. What, Ho! bring us a flagon of your best ale; and now, Sir, my service to you, a good health to the honest Gentleman you know of, and you are welcome into the Peak.

VIAT. I thank you, Sir, and present you my service again, and to all the honest Brothers of the Angle.

PISC. I'll pledge you, Sir: so, there's for your

ale, and farewell. Come, Sir, let us be going: for the sun grows low, and I would have you look about you as you ride; for you will see an odd country, and sights that will seem strange to you.

So, Sir, now we have got to the top of the hill out of town, look about you, and tell me how like the country.

you

VIAT. Bless me! what mountains are here! Are we not in Wales?

PISC. No, but in almost as mountainous a coun

try; and yet these hills, though high, bleak, and craggy, breed and feed good beef and mutton, above ground, and afford good store of lead within.

VIAT. They had need of all those commodities to make amends for the ill landscape: but I hope our way does not lie over any of these; for I dread a precipice.

Pisc. Believe me, but it does, and down one especially, that will appear a little terrible to a stranger; though the way is passable enough, and so passable, that we, who are natives of these mountains, and acquainted with them, disdain to alight.

VIAT. I hope though, that a foreigner is privileged to use his own discretion, and that I may have the liberty to entrust my neck to the fidelity of my own feet, rather than to those of my horse; for I have no more at home.

PISC. 'Twere hard else. But in the mean time, I think 'twere best, while this way is pretty even, to mend our pace, that we may be past that hill I speak of, to the end your apprehension may not be doubled for want of light to discern the easiness of the descent.

VIAT. I am willing to put forward as fast as my beast will give me leave; though I fear nothing in your company. But what pretty river is this we are going into?

PISC. Why this, Sir, is called Bently brook, and and is full of very good Trout and Grayling; but so