broken in Goodchild's pocket. To leave the
wretched Thomas on  unknown ground was
plainly impossible; and to get him to walk
with a badly sprained ankle seemed equally
out of the question. However, Goodchild
(brought back by his cry for help) bandaged
the ankle with a pocket-handkerchief, and
assisted by the landlord, raised the crippled
Apprentice to his legs, offered him a shoulder
to lean on, and exhorted him for the sake of
the whole party to try if he could walk.
Thomas, assisted by the shoulder on one side,
and a stick on the other, did try, with what
pain and difficulty those only can imagine
who have sprained an ankle and have had to
tread on it afterwards. At a pace adapted
to the feeble hobbling of a newly-lamed
man, the lost party moved on, perfectly
ignorant whether they were on the right
side of the mountain or the wrong, and
equally uncertain how long Idle would be
able to contend with the pain in his ancle,
before he gave in altogether and fell down
again, unable to stir another step.

Slowly and more slowly, as the clog of
crippled Thomas weighed heavily and more
heavily on the march of the expedition, the
lost travellers followed the windings of the
stream, till they came to a faintly-marked
cart-track, branching off nearly at right
angles, to the left. After a little consultation
it was resolved to follow this dim vestige
of a road in the hope that it might lead to
some farm or cottage, at which Idle could
be left in safety. It was now getting on
towards the afternoon, and it was fast becoming
more than doubtful whether the party,
delayed in their progress as they now were, might
not be overtaken by the darkness before the
right route was found, and be condemned to
pass the night on the mountain, without bit
or drop to comfort them, in their wet clothes.

The cart-track grew fainter and fainter,
until it was washed out altogether by another
little stream, dark, turbulent, and rapid.
The landlord suggested, judging by the colour
of the water, that it must be flowing from
one of the lead mines in the neighbourhood of
Carrock; and the travellers accordingly kept
by the stream for a little while, in the hope of
possibly wandering towards help in that way.
After walking forward about two hundred
yards, they came upon a mine indeed, but
a mine, exhausted and abandoned; a dismal,
ruinous place, with nothing but the wreck of
its works and buildings left to speak for it.
Here, there were a few sheep feeding. The
landlord looked at them earnestly, thought
he recognised the marks on them—then
thought he did not—finally gave up the sheep
in despair—and walked on, just as ignorant
of the whereabouts of the party as ever.

The march in the dark, literally as well as
metaphorically in the dark, had now been
continued for three-quarters of an hour from
the time when the crippled Apprentice had
met with his accident. Mr. Idle, with all the
will to conquer the pain in his ankle, and to
hobble on, found the power rapidly failing
him, and felt that another ten minutes at
most would find him at the end of his last
physical resources. He had just made up his
mind on this point, and was about to
communicate the dismal result of his reflections
to his companions, when the mist suddenly
brightened, and began to lift straight ahead.
In another minute, the landlord, who was in
advance, proclaimed that he saw a tree.
Before long, other trees appeared—then a
cottage—then a house beyond the cottage,
and a familiar line of road rising behind it.
Last of all, Carrock itself loomed darkly into
view, far away to the right hand. The party
had not only got down the mountain without
knowing how, but had wandered away from
it in the mist, without knowing why—away,
far down on the very moor by which they had
approached the base of Carrock that morning.

The happy lifting of the mist, and the
still happier discovery that the travellers
had groped their way, though by a very
round-about direction, to within a mile or
so of the part of the valley in which the
farm-house was situated, restored Mr. Idle's
sinking spirits and reanimated his failing
strength. While the landlord ran off to get
the dog-cart, Thomas was assisted by
Goodchild to the cottage which had been the first
building seen when the darkness brightened,
and was propped up against the garden-wall,
like an artist's lay-figure waiting to be
forwarded, until the dog-cart should arrive
from the farm-house below. In due time—
and a very long time it seemed to Mr. Idle—
the rattle of wheels was heard, and the
crippled Apprentice was lifted into his seat.
As the dog-cart was driven back to the inn,
the landlord related an anecdote which he
had just heard at the farm-house, of an
unhappy man who had been lost, like his two
guests and himself, on Carrock; who had
passed the night there alone; who had been
found the next morning, "scared and
starved;" and who never went out afterwards,
except on his way to the grave. Mr.
Idle heard this sad story, and derived at
least one useful impression from it. Bad as
the pain in his ankle was, he contrived to
bear it patiently, for he felt grateful that a
worse accident had not befallen him in the
wilds of Carrock.

INDIAN RECRUITS AND INDIAN ENGLISH.

IN Europe, the task of recruiting-sergeant
is anything but a sinecure. In fact, scarcely
any nation relies on any other than, forced
conscription to replenish its armies. England
alone seems able to furnish an adequate
number of volunteers, and even in England,
the demand is often much beyond the supply.

In India, on the other hand, the usual
difficulties vanish, and new ones take
their place. There, the supply—drawn as it is from