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PISCATOR. 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.

VIATOR. 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.

PISCATOR. 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.

VIATOR. I attend you. But what pretty river is this that runs under this stone bridge? has it a name?

PISCATOR. Yes, it is called Henmore;t 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.

VIATOR. We can talk of nothing with which I shall be more delighted than of rivers and angling.

PISCATOR. Let those be the subjects then. But we are now come to the Talbot: what will you drink, Sir? ale or wine?

VIATOR. 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.

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PISCATOR. 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.

* The old road, to the left of the turnpike, before the traveller enters Ashbourn. At that time it was commonly so called, because it flowed through Hen Moor; but its proper name is Schoo Brook. See a singular contest regarding the right of fishing in this brook, as reported in Burrows, 2279. Richard Hayne, Esq. of Ashbourn, v. Uriah Corden, Esq. of Clifton.

This inn stood in the market-place, and till about sixty years since was the first inn at Ashbourn. About that period a wing was divided off for a private dwelling; and the far-famed Talbot was reduced to an inferior pothouse, and continued thus degraded until the year 1786, when it was totally demolished by Mr Langdale, then a builder in that town, who erected a very handsome structure on its site. Mr Langdale is now (1815) a bookseller in the town, and acts as clerk to the magistrates of the hundred.

VIATOR. I thank you, Sir, and present you my service again, and to all the honest brothers of the angle.

PISCATOR. I'll pledge you, Sir: so, there's for your ale, and farewell. Come, Sir, let's 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.

PISCATOR.

CHAP. II.

VIATOR. Wales?

PISCATOR.

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

Bless me what mountains are here! are we not in

No, but in almost as mountainous a country; 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.

VIATOR. 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.

PISCATOR. 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.

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

PISCATOR. 'Twere hard else. But in the meantime, 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.

VIATOR. 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?

PISCATOR. Why this, Sir, is called Bentley brook,* and is full of very good Trout and Grayling, but so encumbered with wood in many places as is troublesome to an angler.

VIATOR. Here are the prettiest rivers, and the most of them, in this country that ever I saw: do you know how many you have in the country?

A narrow swift stream, two miles beyond Ashbourn, in the present highroad, but considerably nearer to it in the old road.

PISCATOR. I know them all, and they were not hard to reckon, were it worth the trouble but the most considerable of them I will presently name you. And to begin where we now are, for you must know we are now upon the very skirts of Derbyshire, we have, first, the river Dove, that we shall come to by-and-by, which divides the two counties of Derby and Stafford for many miles together, and is so called from the swiftness of its current, and that swiftness occasioned by the declivity of its course, and by being so straitened in that course betwixt the rocks, by which (and those very high ones) it is, hereabout, for four or five miles, confined into a very narrow stream: a river that from a contemptible fountain, which I can cover with my hat, by the confluence of other rivers, rivulets, brooks, and rills, is swelled, before it fall into Trent, a little below Eggington, where it loses the name, to such a breadth and depth, as to be in most places navigable, were not the passage frequently interrupted with fords and weirs; and has as fertile banks as any river in England, none excepted. And this river, from its head for a mile or two, is a black water, as all the rest of the Derbyshire rivers of note originally are, for they all spring from the mosses; but is in a few miles' travel so clarified by the addition of several clear and very great springs, bigger than itself, which gush out of the limestone rocks, that before it comes to my house, which is but six or seven miles from its source, you will find it one of the purest crystalline streams you have seen. *

VIATOR. Does Trent spring in these parts?

PISCATOR. Yes, in these parts; not in this county, but somewhere towards the upper end of Staffordshire, I think not far from a place called Trentham; and thence runs down, not far from Stafford, to Wolseley Bridge, and, washing the skirts and purlieus of the forest of Needwood, runs down to Burton in the same county; thence it comes into this, where we now are, and, running by Swarkeston and Dunnington, receives Derwent at Wildon; and, so, to Nottingham; thence, to Newark; and, by Gainsborough,

* Between Beresford Hall and Ashbourn lies Dove Dale, whose crested cliffs and swift torrents are again noticed by Cotton in his "Wonders of the Peak." Through this singularly deep valley the Dove runs for about two miles, changing its course, its motion, and its appearance perpetually; never less than ten, and rarely so many as twenty yards in width making a continued noise by rolling over or falling among loose stones. The rocks which form its sides are heaved up in enormous piles, sometimes connected with each other, and sometimes detached; some perforated in natural cavities, others adorned with foliage; with here and there a tall rock, having nothing to relieve the bareness of its appearance but a mountain-ash flourishing at the top. The grandeur of the scenery is probably unrivalled in England.-E.

to Kingston-upon-Hull, where it takes the name of Humber,* and thence falls into the sea but that the Map will best inform you. VIATOR. Know you whence this river Trent derives its name? PISCATOR. No, indeed; and yet I have heard it often discoursed upon when some have given its denomination from the forenamed Trentham, though that seems rather a derivative from it; others have said it is so called from thirty rivers that fall into it, and there lose their names; which cannot be, neither, because it carries that name from its very fountain, before any other rivers fall into it others derive it from thirty several sorts of fish that breed there; and that is the most likely derivation: but be it how it will, it is doubtless one of the finest rivers in the world, and the most abounding with excellent Salmon, and all sorts of delicate fish.

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VIATOR.

Pardon me, Sir, for tempting you into this digression: and then proceed to your other rivers, for I am mightily delighted with this Discourse.

PISCATOR. It was no interruption, but a very seasonable question; for Trent is not only one of our Derbyshire rivers, but the chief of them, and into which all the rest pay the tribute of their names, which I had, perhaps, forgot to insist upon, being got to the other end of the county, had you not awoke my memory. But I will now proceed. And the next river of note, for I will take them as they lie eastward from us, is the river Wye: I say of note, for we have two lesser betwixt us and it, namely, Lathkin and Bradford; of which Lathkin is, by many degrees, the purest and most transparent stream that I ever yet saw, either at home or abroad, and breeds, it is said, the reddest and the best Trouts in England but neither of these are to be reputed rivers, being no better than great springs. The river Wye, then, has its source near unto Buxton, a town some ten miles from hence, famous for a warm bath, and which you are to ride through in your way to Manchester a black water, too, at the fountain, but, by the same reason with Dove, becomes very soon a most delicate clear river, and breeds admirable Trout and Grayling, reputed by those who, by living upon its banks, are partial to it, the best of any: and this, running down by Ashford, Bakewell, and Haddon, at a town a little lower, called Rowsley, falls into Derwent, and there loses its name.‡

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Humber loud, that keeps the Scythian's name.-Milton.
Trent, who, like some Earth-born giant spreads
His thirty arms along the indented meads.-Ibid.

By this it appears that there are two rivers in England that bear the name of Wye: the former Wye, occasionally mentioned in this work, has, as well as the Severn, its

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