This succeeded; he soon became so very civil and
conversable, that I began to think him quite a pleasant fellow.
This device I had learnt of the "Vicar of Wakefield," who always
made his hosts affable by inviting them to drink with him. It was
an expedient that suited me also in another point of view, as the
strong ale of England did not at all agree with me.
This innkeeper called me sir; and he made his people lay a separate
table for himself and me; for he said he could see plainly I was a
gentleman.
In our chat, we talked much of George the Second, who appeared to be
his favourite king, much more so than George the Third. And among
others things, we talked of the battle at Dettingen, of which he
knew many particulars. I was obliged also in my turn to tell him
stories of our great King of Prussia, and his numerous armies, and
also what sheep sold for in Prussia. After we had been thus talking
some time, chiefly on political matters, he all at once asked me if
I could blow the French horn? This he supposed I could do, only
because I came from Germany; for he said he remembered, when he was
a boy, a German had once stopped at the inn with his parents who
blew the French horn extremely well. He therefore fancied this was
a talent peculiar to the Germans.
I removed this error, and we resumed our political topics, while his
children and servants at some distance listened with great respect
to our conversation.
Thus I again spent a very agreeable evening; and when I had
breakfasted in the morning, my bill was not more than it had been at
Sutton. I at length reached the common before Derby on Friday
morning. The air was mild, and I seemed to feel myself uncommonly
cheerful and happy. About noon the romantic part of the country
began to open upon me. I came to a lofty eminence, where all at
once I saw a boundless prospect of hills before me, behind which
fresh hills seemed always to arise, and to be infinite.
The ground now seemed undulatory, and to rise and fall like waves;
when at the summit of the rise I seemed to be first raised aloft,
and had an extensive view all around me, and the next moment, when I
went down the hill, I lost it.
In the afternoon I saw Derby in the vale before me, and I was now an
hundred and twenty-six miles from London. Derby is but a small, and
not very considerable town. It was market-day when I got there, and
I was obliged to pass through a crowd of people:
