On market morning, Carlisle woke up amazingly, and became (to the two Idle 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-sergeant 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 activeyoung 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 Hesket, 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, pleasant 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 Innkeeper 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 oatcake.
