a little tour in search of an article and in
avoidance of railroads. I must get a good name for it, and I propose it
in five articles, one for the beginning of every number in the October
part." Next day: "Our decision is for a foray upon the fells of
Cumberland; I having discovered in the books some promising moors and
bleak places thereabout." Into the lake-country they went accordingly;
and The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices, contributed to _Household
Words_, was a narrative of the trip. But his letters had descriptive
touches, and some whimsical personal experiences, not in the published
account.

Looking over the _Beauties of England and Wales_ before he left London,
his ambition was fired by mention of Carrick Fell, "a gloomy old
mountain 1500 feet high," which he secretly resolved to go up. "We came
straight to it yesterday" (9th of September). "Nobody goes up. Guides
have forgotten it. Master of a little inn, excellent north-countryman,
volunteered. Went up, in a tremendous rain. C. D. beat Mr. Porter (name
of landlord) in half a mile. Mr. P. done up in no time. Three
nevertheless went on. Mr. P. again leading; C. D. and C." (Mr. Wilkie
Collins) "following. Rain terrific, black mists, darkness of night. Mr.
P. agitated. C. D. confident. C. (a long way down in perspective)
submissive. All wet through. No poles. Not so much as a walking-stick in
the party. Reach the summit, at about one in the day. Dead darkness as
of night. Mr. P. (excellent fellow to the last) uneasy. C. D. produces
compass from pocket. Mr. P. reassured. Farm-house where dog-cart was
left, N.N.W. Mr. P. complimentary. Descent commenced. C. D. with
compass triumphant, until compass, with the heat and wet of C. D.'s
pocket, breaks. Mr. P. (who never had a compass), inconsolable,
confesses he has not been on Carrick Fell for twenty years, and he don't
know the way down. Darker and darker. Nobody discernible, two yards off,
by the other two. Mr. P. makes suggestions, but no way. It becomes clear
to C. D. and to C. that Mr. P. is going round and round the mountain,
and never coming down. Mr. P. sits on angular granite, and says he is
'just fairly doon.' C. D. revives Mr. P. with laughter, the only
restorative in the company. Mr. P. again complimentary. Descent tried
once more. Mr. P. worse and worse. Council of war. Proposals from C. D.
to go 'slap down.' Seconded by C. Mr. P. objects, on account of
precipice called The Black Arches, and terror of