CHAPTER VII. 



WALTON'S RIVER. 



I^psmIZAAK WALTON, we may venture an easy guess, 

 |gff§| was a good fellow at business. Out of his man- 

 millinery and linendrapery establishments he con- 

 trived to secure a competency that enabled him — lucky 

 individual ! — to retire from trade at the age of fifty and 

 exchange the yard measure for the fishing-rod. His business 

 habits, it may have been noticed by readers of his book, he 

 carried with him into his recreations. All his fishing is 

 done methodically. When he sets out upon an expedition, 

 meaning to go towards Ware, he is not tempted — as some 

 of us, and generally to our cost, weak-mindedly persuade 

 ourselves to do — to dally by the way and waste time in 

 purposeless fishing. Up Tottenham Hill he trudges, 

 delivering that wonderful lecture upon all manner of subjects 

 to his chance companions, nor sounds a halt until Venator, 

 the otterhunter, in pursuance of a fell resolution made at 

 starring to quaff his morning liquor at Hoddesdon, suggests 

 a call at the Thatched House in that quaint Hertfordshire 

 town. 



The conversation of that memorable trio was, you may 



