Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices | Page 7

this sublime spectacle on the minds of the exploring party
is a little injured by the nature of the direct conclusion to which the
sight of it points--the said conclusion being that the mountain mist has
actually gathered round them, as the landlord feared it would. It now
becomes imperatively necessary to settle the exact situation of the
farm-house in the valley at which the dog-cart has been left, before the
travellers attempt to descend. While the landlord is endeavouring to
make this discovery in his own way, Mr. Goodchild plunges his hand
under his wet coat, draws out a little red morocco-case, opens it, and
displays to the view of his companions a neat pocket-compass. The
north is found, the point at which the farm-house is situated is settled,
and the descent begins. After a little downward walking, Idle (behind as
usual) sees his fellow-travellers turn aside sharply--tries to follow
them--loses them in the mist--is shouted after, waited for,
recovered--and then finds that a halt has been ordered, partly on his
account, partly for the purpose of again consulting the compass.
The point in debate is settled as before between Goodchild and the
landlord, and the expedition moves on, not down the mountain, but
marching straight forward round the slope of it. The difficulty of
following this new route is acutely felt by Thomas Idle. He finds the
hardship of walking at all greatly increased by the fatigue of moving
his feet straight forward along the side of a slope, when their natural
tendency, at every step, is to turn off at a right angle, and go straight
down the declivity. Let the reader imagine himself to be walking along
the roof of a barn, instead of up or down it, and he will have an exact
idea of the pedestrian difficulty in which the travellers had now
involved themselves. In ten minutes more Idle was lost in the distance
again, was shouted for, waited for, recovered as before; found
Goodchild repeating his observation of the compass, and remonstrated

warmly against the sideway route that his companions persisted in
following. It appeared to the uninstructed mind of Thomas that when
three men want to get to the bottom of a mountain, their business is to
walk down it; and he put this view of the case, not only with emphasis,
but even with some irritability. He was answered from the scientific
eminence of the compass on which his companions were mounted, that
there was a frightful chasm somewhere near the foot of Carrock, called
The Black Arches, into which the travellers were sure to march in the
mist, if they risked continuing the descent from the place where they
had now halted. Idle received this answer with the silent respect which
was due to the commanders of the expedition, and followed along the
roof of the barn, or rather the side of the mountain, reflecting upon the
assurance which he received on starting again, that the object of the
party was only to gain 'a certain point,' and, this haven attained, to
continue the descent afterwards until the foot of Carrock was reached.
Though quite unexceptionable as an abstract form of expression, the
phrase 'a certain point' has the disadvantage of sounding rather vaguely
when it is pronounced on unknown ground, under a canopy of mist
much thicker than a London fog. Nevertheless, after the compass, this
phrase was all the clue the party had to hold by, and Idle clung to the
extreme end of it as hopefully as he could.
More sideway walking, thicker and thicker mist, all sorts of points
reached except the 'certain point;' third loss of Idle, third shouts for him,
third recovery of him, third consultation of compass. Mr. Goodchild
draws it tenderly from his pocket, and prepares to adjust it on a stone.
Something falls on the turf--it is the glass. Something else drops
immediately after--it is the needle. The compass is broken, and the
exploring party is lost!
It is the practice of the English portion of the human race to receive all
great disasters in dead silence. Mr. Goodchild restored the useless
compass to his pocket without saying a word, Mr. Idle looked at the
landlord, and the landlord looked at Mr. Idle. There was nothing for it
now but to go on blindfold, and trust to the chapter of chances.
Accordingly, the lost travellers moved forward, still walking round the
slope of the mountain, still desperately resolved to avoid the Black

Arches, and to succeed in reaching the 'certain point.'
A quarter of an hour brought them to the brink of a ravine, at the
bottom of which there flowed a muddy little stream. Here another halt
was called, and another consultation took place. The landlord, still
clinging pertinaciously to the