Apprentices) disagreeably and reproachfully
busy. There were its cattle market, its sheep
market, and its pig market down by the
river, with raw-boned and shock-headed Rob
Roys hiding their Lowland dresses beneath
heavy plaids, prowling in and out among the
animals, and flavouring the air with fumes of
whiskey. There was its corn market down
the main street, with hum of chaffering over
open sacks. There was its general market
in the street too, with heather brooms on
which the purple flower still flourished, and
heather baskets primitive and fresh to
behold. With women trying on clogs and caps
at open stalls, and "Bible stalls" adjoining.
With "Doctor Mantle's Dispensary for the
cure of all Human Maladies and no charge
for advice," and with Doctor Mantle's
"Laboratory of Medical, Chemical, and Botanical
Science"—both healing institutions
established on one pair of trestles, one board,
and one sun-blind. With the renowned
phrenologist from London, begging to be
favoured (at sixpence each) with the
company of clients of both sexes, to whom,
on examination of their heads, he would
make revelations "enabling him or her to
know themselves." Through all these
bargains and blessings, the recruiting serjeant
watchfully elbowed his way, a thread of War
in the peaceful skein. Likewise on the walls
were printed hints that the Oxford Blues
might not be indisposed to hear of a few fine
active young men; and that whereas the
standard of that distinguished corps is full
six feet, "growing lads of five feet eleven"
need not absolutely despair of being accepted.

Scenting the morning air more pleasantly
than the buried majesty of Denmark did,
Messrs. Idle and Goodchild rode away
from Carlisle at eight o'clock one forenoon,
bound for the village of Heske, Newmarket,
some fourteen miles distant. Goodchild (who
had already begun to doubt whether he was
idle: as his way always is when he has
nothing to do), had read of a certain black
old Cumberland hill or mountain, called
Carrock, or Carrock Fell; and had arrived
at the conclusion that it would be the
culminating triumph of Idleness to ascend the
same. Thomas Idle, dwelling on the pains
inseparable from that achievement, had
expressed the strongest doubts of the
expediency, and even of the sanity, of the
enterprise; but Goodchild had carried his point,
and they rode away.

Up hill and down hill, and twisting to the
right, and twisting to the left, and with old
Skiddaw (who has vaunted himself a great
deal more than his merits deserve; but that
is rather the way of the Lake country), dodging
the apprentices in a picturesque and
pleasant manner. Good, weather-proof, warm,
peasant houses, well white-limed, scantily
dotting the road. Clean children coming out
to look, carrying other clean children as
big as themselves. Harvest still lying out
and much rained upon; here and there,
harvest still unreaped. Well cultivated gardens
attached to the cottages, with plenty of
produce forced out of their hard soil. Lonely
nooks, and wild; but people can be born, and
married, and buried in such nooks, and can
live and love, and be loved, there as
elsewhere, thank God! (Mr. Goodchild's
remark.) By-and-by, the village. Black, coarse-
stoned, rough-windowed houses; some with
outer staircases, like Swiss houses; a sinuous
and stony gutter winding up hill and
round the corner, by way of street. All
the children running out directly. Women
pausing in washing, to peep from doorways
and very little windows. Such were the
observations of Messrs. Idle and Goodchild,
as their conveyance stopped at the village
shoemaker's. Old Carrock gloomed down
upon it all in a very ill-tempered state; and
rain was beginning.

The village shoemaker declined to have
anything to do with Carrock. No visitors
went up Carrock. No visitors came there
at all.  Aa' the world ganged awa' yon. The
driver appealed to the Innkeeper. The Inn-
keeper had two men working in the fields,
and one of them should be called in, to go up
Carrock as guide. Messrs. Idle and Goodchild,
highly approving, entered the Innkeeper's
house, to drink whiskey and eat oakcake.

The Innkeeper was not idle enough—was
not idle at all, which was a great fault in
him—but was a fine specimen of a north-
country man, or any kind of man. He had a
ruddy cheek, a bright eye, a well-knit frame,
an immense hand, a cheery outspeaking
voice, and a straight, bright, broad look. He
had a drawing-room, too, up-stairs, which
was worth a visit to the Cumberland Fells.
(This was Mr. Francis Goodchild's opinion,
in which Mr. Thomas Idle did not concur.)

The ceiling of this drawing-room was so
crossed and re-crossed by beams of unequal
lengths, radiating from a centre in a corner,
that it looked like a broken star-fish. The
room was comfortably and solidly furnished
with good mahogany and horsehair. It had
a snug fire-side, and a couple of well-
curtained windows, looking out upon the wild
country behind the house. What it most
developed was, an unexpected taste for little
ornaments and nick-nacks, of which it
contained a most surprising number. They
were not very various, consisting in great
part of waxen babies with their limbs more
or less mutilated, appealing on one leg to the
parental affections from under little cupping-
glasses; but, Uncle Tom was there, in crockery,
receiving theological instructions from
Miss Eva, who grew out of his side like a
wen, in an exceedingly rough state of profile
propagandism. Engravings of Mr. Hunt's
country-boy, before and after his pie were
on the wall, divided by a highly coloured
nautical piece, the subject of which had all
her colors (and more) flying, and was making