do it out of curiosity. But pray, who else may have you of me ?"

told

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Why I just stopt," he answered, "at the Jolly Angler for a pint, and the landlord was describing you to two or three other guests in the tap-room; and as to his outer description, there is no mistaking you. I hope I don't make too free, in resting my pack so close to yours."

I did not much like the familiarity of being taken for a brother-pedlar; but, not much offended, I said, I supposed Mr. Chubb described something more than my mere outside; "may be, that I was a travelling merchant like yourself?"

"Not exactly so," replied he, "though it was one of his many guesses."

"Which were not over creditable, perhaps, to my character ?"

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that

Why, as to that, whatever they were, he allowed you spent your money very freely, but said that all was not gold that glitters-I beg pardon again for being so free.”

"O!" cried I, "there's no occasion; I should really like to know what he thought I was, for he seemed so out of humour at his mistake in thinking me a gentleman sportsman come to fish, that he had begun to be discourteous before I left the house."

"Shall I tell you, and not make you angry?” asked the pedlar.

"By all means."

"Why, at first he thought you a Methodist parson going to some congregation; for, said he, them

messengers of the elect, however plain and humble they travel in appearance, always pamper themselves, when they can, like a lord, and to be sure I hope he will have more mercy upon his penitent brethren than he had upon the fried eggs.' Upon this, we all

laughed."

"Well, what afterwards?"

"He then thought you a nobleman's valet, who had left his place, and was tramping it home on foot, but so accustomed to the luxuries of the steward's room, that you could not do without them, for ale would not satisfy you. His wife, however, refuted that, by saying, that when you paid the bill, you took out a purse full of gold, so could not be a valet out of place. If this was true, and you shewed your gold, I would take the liberty of advising you another time not to be so indiscreet; nobody knows who one meets at them public-houses, and some of the people who heard this might follow you on purpose to get at the purse. Did you really shew much gold?

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Enough, I suppose," said I, "to pay expenses." Here I put my hand into my breeches pocket, to ascertain the safety of my purse, which my companion observing, said he was glad to find I had not lost it; adding, however, that he thought I had better not carry too much about me. money

I thanked him for his caution, and asked if I had any other character with my good landlord ? "Why yes; but this beats the others in impudence, and really I dare not mention it."

"O! let's have it. It can hardly be worse."

"You must know, then, that whilst we were in the midst of this talk, a constable comes in with a kind of hue-and-cry paper, stating that the Wallingford bank had been robbed the night before-which indeed I knew—and offering a reward for the discovery of the thief. It also described the persons of the several strangers who had been in the town that evening. Among these was one in a sort of shooting-jacket, black stock, and a knapsack on his back, supposed to be a soldier."

"That looks very like me," said I, somewhat amused, yet annoyed, for I thought I might get into trouble by it on the road, and I was not satisfied with the keen look and sneer which the pedlar assumed while he informed me that the uncharitable Chubb declared to his guests he thought I must be the man. The pedlar himself evidently looked uncertain as to the point, and observed that I did not seem to like the intelligence.

"I am afraid it disturbs you, friend," said he, "but of course it cannot be you."

"Gracious heaven!" cried I, "do I look so conscious? If innocence is disconcerted at being merely suspected, what must be the case of actual guilt ?"

"What indeed ?" said the pedlar, and he gave a significant shrug with his shoulders. "But I am only surprised," added he, "that I was not myself put into the Hue-and-Cry, for I was at Wallingford all day yesterday at the Lammas fair, and I sold many a pennyworth; in short, emptied my pack, and filled it again with my profits. Yet it would be

wrong to suspect a hard-working, honest man on that

"Wrong indeed," answered I; " yet you gentlemen pedlars are everywhere, and must sometimes be exposed to suspicion. You must, however, see and know a great deal of the world."

"That we ought to do," rejoined he, "for we work hard for it. It is a laborious, but sometimes not an unpleasant life, which repays us often for our pains. We are admitted everywhere, and though they may not buy, everybody is glad to see us, particularly the women (sometimes the mistresses, always the maids); and if we are reasonable—that is, charge not above twenty or thirty per cent. on goods-to a cook or housekeeper, we are pretty sure of a tit-bit and a cup, besides the profit. O! it's a great deal better than tailoring all day, with one's knees up to one's chin; or bending over a desk, driving a quill, or even dinning bonus, bona, bonum, into a stupid boy."

"I cry you mercy,” said I; "I see you are a man of education, which I did not know you gentlemen of the pack were."

"Neither are we all," replied he, " but I perhaps am an exception. For I was not born to carry this camel's hump about with me. Mine has been a varied life."

"Your adventures, I should think, must be very amusing, had we time and a convenient place to hear them."

And I began to think howFothergill would rejoice in such an opportunity to gratify his favourite speculations.

"A hot evening sun, on a stone bridge," answered the pedlar, "does not give much encouragement to a long story; but among the osiers there on the bend of the river, on this side Pangburne, there is an honest public-house, called the Eel-pie House, where the ale is excellent, and the landlady civil, not to mention a comely young daughter who serves the customers; and if you will stand treat for a tankard, I should have no objection, as you are so curious, to tell you some of my history."

This exactly falling in with my scheme of travelling, I agreed, and was led, nothing loth, to the sign of "The West Country Barge, or Eel-pie House, by Sarah Snow, widow."

Here, on our arrival at a little garden gate, which led to the house, my friend began another song of Autolycus, and in no mean voice sung out,

This address brought out the landlady's daughter, a pretty lass, of about seventeen, who came with seeming gladness to the gate to let us in.

"Ah! George," said she, "I thought it was you."

* Winter's Tale.