e.

At this point everyone was suddenly "seized." Mr Sudberry and George
were seized with an irresistible desire to fish; Fred was seized with a
burning desire to sketch; Lucy was seized with a passionate desire to
gather wild flowers; and Jacky was seized with a furious desire to wet
himself and _wade with his shoes on_. He did it too, and, in the course
of an hour, tumbled into so many peat-bogs, and besmeared himself with
so much coffee-coloured mud, that his own mother would have failed to
recognise him. He was supremely happy--so was his father. At the very
first cast he, (the father), hooked a trout of half a pound weight, and
lost it, too! but that was nothing. The next cast he caught one of
nearly a pound. George was equally successful. Fortune smiled. Before
evening began to close, both baskets were half full of splendid trout;
Lucy's basket was quite full of botanical specimens; Fred's sketch was a
success, and Jacky was as brown as a Hottentot from head to foot. They
prepared to return home, rejoicing.

Haste was needful now. A short cut round the shoulder of the ridge was
recommended by George, and taken. It conducted them into a totally
different gap from the one which led to their own valley. If followed
out, this route would have led them to a spot ten miles distant from
their Highland home; but they were in blissful ignorance of the fact.
All gaps and gorges looked much the same to them. Suddenly Mr Sudberry
paused:--

"Is this the way we came?"

Grave looks, but no reply.

"Let us ascend this ridge, and make sure that we are right."

They did so, and made perfectly certain that they were wrong.
Attempting to correct their mistake, they wandered more hopelessly out
of their way, but it was not until the shades of night began to fall
that Mr Sudberry, with a cold perspiration on his brow, expressed his
serious belief that they were "lost!"

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 10.

LOST ON THE MOUNTAINS.

Did ever the worthy London merchant, in the course of his life, approach
to the verge of the region of despair, it was on that eventful night
when he found himself and his family lost among the mountains of
Scotland.

"It's dreadful," said he, sitting down on a cold grey rock, and
beginning slowly to realise the utter hopelessness of their condition.

"My poor Lucy, don't be cast down," (drawing her to his breast), "after
all, it will only be a night of wandering. But we _must_ keep moving.