but they showed them to each other and to me quite freely. Having appeased their hunger, they sat down at the tables and wrote in little books, checking off the day's orders or receipts. No one spoke to me except a sharp-looking man, who remarked upon the unwonted size of a mutton chop which I had ordered-it resembled a small saddle—saying, "It's like a Barnsley chop. I'll have one for breakfast to-morrow." It was the man who had devoured the pie. Though gorged like an anaconda, he could still let his thoughts dwell sweetly on next morning's breakfast.

All this time I noticed that an elderly and saturninelooking commercial gent had never taken his eyes off me since I had been in the room. He sat in a corner where he could command me at his ease, and there he transfixed me with his basilisk glance. I thought of offering him a pound or two off my immense mutton chop, but was not sufficiently acquainted with the etiquette of the sacred place to venture to say a word. By and by the travellers disappeared one by one, and the black-visaged man and I were left alone. Then he took his feet off the horse-hair sofa and came slowly and mysteriously towards me. If he had worn ruffles I should have taken him for the spectre from Bolsover Castle.

66 Isn't your name Henderson ?" said he, when he got close to me. "I met you the other day at-what's the name of the place?

"I wasn't there," said I, trying to include everything in one comprehensive answer.

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Well, that's strange. Taken any orders here?"

"None at all."

"What, not taken one?"

"Not a single one," said I, despondently.

"Well, that's bad. Business is all going to the deuce, here, but I should have thought you could have got an order or two. What did you say you are travelling in ?"

"I am travelling," said I, as I rose up to leave the room," in Notions.'

"In Notions!" he repeated with astonishment; "what people call Yankee notions?"

I placed my finger upon my lips, and nodded twice and shook my head once, and left the saturnine man to make what he could of it.

CHAPTER VII.

MATLOCK AND DOVE DALE.

The Two Matlocks.-Mr. Rhodes' Description.-The Prosaic View of Matlock.-Masson and the Hills.-The "Viâ Jelly."-Lettingout Scenery.-Lunch at the "Izaak Walton."-Dove Dale.-A Hard Road.-The Twelve Apostles.-Alstonfield Church.-A "Short Cut."-The Slough of Despond.-Lost in the Swamps. -Hartington at last. An accommodating Hostess.-The Pedlar and his Cart.-Castleton.-An Unexpected Recognition.

THERE is some very pretty scenery in and around the two Matlocks, which are a little over a mile apart, the road following the course of the river beneath the shade of lofty cliffs. In a walk from Matlock Bath to Matlock Bridge the traveller may get a very fair idea of the general character of the scenery, but he should not leave the locality without ascending the hill called Masson, and looking at the view which is afforded from that point. In the season the place is very crowded, and it may be doubted whether the quiet lover of nature will find sufficient attraction in either of the Matlocks to induce him to remain there more than a few hours. In Rhodes' "Peak Scenery" we are told that the museums" (shops for the sale of gimcracks), the inns,

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and the lodging-houses, present a "fascinating scene,' nay more, "a vision of enchantment, a prospect into the fairy regions of romance, where all that can delight the mind, and excite admiration, seemed to be assembled together." Mr. Rhodes saw "well-dressed ladies and gentlemen perambulating the dale," and "paused instinctively before we proceeded onward, as if we feared to dissolve the charm by obtruding ourselves upon it." This was very thoughtful and considerate on Mr. Rhodes' part, but the sensations which he describes will not trouble the ordinary visitor who strolls through Matlock, dunned by hack-drivers, and badgered by the showmen who have taken possession of the scenery. recommend the judicious traveller to take Matlock on his way to some other place, and if he is bound for Dove Dale, to walk over Masson and the other hills to the "Lilies" public-house, and so on to the “Izaak Walton," at the entrance to Dove Dale, where he will probably be disposed to pass the night. This was not my route, as will presently be seen, but I am now satisfied that it is the best.

I

The popular lion of the locality is not Masson or the High Tor, for many people do not like hills or cannot ascend them without inconvenience, but a road which the stranger will be puzzled to hear called by an incomprehensible name-the "Via Jelly." The design was to pay a compliment to a family named Gellia, who did much for the neighbourhood, but the people have adopted their own pronunciation, and Gellia has been turned into Jelly. My plan was to go from Matlock to

Hartington through Dove Dale, and in order to arrive unwearied at the part which promised to afford the most agreeable walk, I drove from Matlock to the "Izaak Walton" inn, having seen Matlock itself, and its perambulating ladies and gentlemen, on a previous

occasion.

The Viâ Jelly-for one may as well call it as the people do-turned out to be nothing very extraordinary, certainly not justifying the hubbub which the Matlockites make about it. It is rather pretty here and there, but there are hundreds of roads in Derbyshire which in point of beautiful scenery cast it far into the shade. It runs for the most part between wood-covered hills,, but is much disfigured by various tricks which have been played with the stream on the left hand, for the purpose of making it useful in certain manufactories and works. In the spring of the year the bank on the right is so covered with violets and lilies of the valley that hundreds of people come to gather them from all parts, and this no doubt lends an additional interest to the Viâ Jelly, and helps to make it pay. For most of the scenery round Matlock, as at Niagara, is let out at so much a yard, and the stranger cannot go far without being called upon to stand and deliver. A very short sojourn in a place of that kind always satisfies the present traveller. At the end of the road there stands the public-house called the "Lilies," which may be reached, as I have said, over the hills from Masson, and it is much better, as I afterwards proved, to launch out upon this walk than to go pottering along the Viâ Jelly in company with nurse