a grand excursion over the mountains.
little did good mr sudberry think what an excursion lay before him that day, when, in the pride of untried strength and unconquerable spirits, he strode up the mountain-side, with his dutiful family following like a “tail” behind him. there was a kind of narrow sheep-path, up which they marched in single file. father first, lucy next, with her gown prettily tucked-up; george and fred following, with large fishing-baskets stuffed with edibles; jacky next, light and active, but as yet quiescent; timorous peter bringing up the rear. he, also, was laden, but not heavily. mr sudberry carried rod and basket, for he had been told that there were large trout in the lake of the clouds.
ever and anon the party halted and turned round to wave hats and kerchiefs to mrs sudberry, tilly, and mrs brown, who returned the salute with interest, until the white house appeared a mere speck in the valley below, and mrs brown became so small, that jacky, for the first time in his life, regarded her as a contemptible little thing! at last a shoulder of the hill shut out the view of the valley, and they began to feel that they were in a deep solitude, surrounded by wild mountain peaks.
it is a fact, that there is something peculiarly invigorating in mountain air. what that something is we are not prepared to say. oxygen and ozone have undoubtedly something to do with it, but in what proportions we know not. scientific men could give us a learned disquisition on the subject, no doubt; we therefore refer our readers to scientific men, and confine our observations to the simple statement of the fact, that there is something extremely invigorating in mountain air. every mountaineer knows it; mr sudberry and family proved it that day beyond dispute, excepting, by the way, poor peter, whose unfortunate body was not adapted for rude contact with the rough elements of this world.
the whole party panted and became very warm as they toiled upwards; but, instead of growing fatigued, they seemed to gather fresh strength and additional spirit at every step—always excepting peter, of course. soon a wild spirit came over them. on gaining a level patch of springy turf, father gave a cheer, and rushed madly, he knew not, and cared not, whither. sons and daughters echoed the cheer, and followed his example. the sun burst forth at the moment, crisping the peaks, gorges, and clouds—which were all mingled together—with golden fires. each had started off without definite intention, and they were scattered far and wide in five minutes, but each formed the natural resolve to run to the nearest summit, in order to devour more easily the view. thus they all converged again and met on a neighbouring knoll that overtopped a terrific precipice which over hung a small lake.
“the—lake—of the—clouds!” exclaimed lucy, as she came up, breathless and beaming.
“impossible!” cried her father; “mcallister says it is on the other side of the ridge, and we’re not near the top yet. where are peter and jacky?”
“i cannot see them!” said george and fred, in a breath.
“no more can i,” cried lucy.
no more could anybody, except a hunter or an eagle, for they were seated quietly among grey rocks and brown ferns, which blended with their costume so as to render them all but invisible.
the party on the knoll were, however, the reverse of invisible to jacky and his exhausted companion. they stood out, black as ink, against the bright blue sky, and were so sharply defined that jacky declared he could see the “turn-up of lucy’s nose.”
the reader must not suppose that master jacky was exhausted, like his slender companion. a glance at his firm lip, flushed cheek, sturdy little limbs, and bright eyes, would have made that abundantly plain. no, jacky was in a peculiar frame of mind—that was all. he chose to sit beside peter, and, as he never condescended to give a reason for his choice, we cannot state one. he appeared to be meditatively inclined that day. perhaps he was engaged in the concoction of some excruciating piece of wickedness—who knows?
suddenly jacky turned with a look of earnest gravity towards his companion, who was a woebegone spectacle of exhaustion. “i say, we’d better go on, don’t you think?”
peter looked up languidly, sighed heavily, and laid his hand on the fishing-basket full of sandwiches, which constituted his burden. it was small and light, but to the poor boy it felt like a ton. jacky’s eyes became still more owlishly wide, and his face graver than ever. he had never seen him in this condition before—indeed, jacky’s experience of life beyond the nursery being limited, he had never seen any one in such a case before.
“i say, peter, are you desprit blow’d?”
“desprit,” sighed peter.
jacky paused and gazed at his companion for nearly a minute.
“i say, d’ye think you could walk if you tried?”
“oh, yes!” (with a groan and a smile;) “come, i’ll try to push ahead now.”
“here, give me the basket,” cried jacky, starting up with sudden and tremendous energy, and wrenching the basket out of peter’s hand. he did it with ease, although the small clerk was twice the size of the imp.
peter remonstrated, but in vain. mrs brown, a woman of powerful frame and strong mind, could not turn jacky from his purpose—it was not likely, therefore, that an amiable milk-and-water boy, in a state of exhaustion, could do it. jacky swung the basket over his shoulder with an amount of exertion that made him stagger, and, commanding peter to follow, marched up the hill with compressed lips and knitted brows.
it was an epoch in the mental development of jacky—it was a new sensation to the child. hitherto he had known nothing but the feeling of dependence. up to this point he had been compelled by the force of circumstances to look up to everyone—and, alas! he had done so with a very bad grace. he had never known what it was to help any one. his mother had thoroughly spoiled him. strange infatuation in the mother! she had often blamed the boy for spoiling his toys; but she had never blamed herself for spoiling the boy. “darling jacky! don’t ask the child to do anything for you—he’s too young yet.” so jacky was never asked to help any one in any way, except by mrs brown, who did not “ask,” but commanded, and, although she never rewarded obedience with the laurel, either literally or figuratively, she invariably punished disobedience with the palm. little tilly always did everything she wanted done herself; and could never do enough for jacky, so that she afforded no opportunity for her brother to exercise amiable qualities. thus was jacky trained to be a selfish little imp, and to this training he superadded the natural wickedness of his own little heart. but now, for the first time, the tables were turned. jacky felt that peter was dependent on him—that he could not get on without him.
“poor peter, i’ll help him—he’s a weak skinny chap, and i’m strong as a lion—as a elephant—as a crokindile—anything! come on, peter, are you getting better now?” thus they went up the hill together.
“ha! there they are at last, close under this mound. why, i do believe that jacky’s carrying the basket!”
mr sudberry was bereft of breath at this discovery; so was everyone else. when the boy stumped up the hill and flung down the basket with an emphatic, “there!” his father turned to the small clerk—
“how now, sir, did you bid jacky carry that?”
“please, sir—no, sir;” (whimpering), “but master jacky forced it out of my hand, sir, and insisted on carrying it. he saw that i was very tired, sir—and so i am, but i would not have asked him to carry it, if i had been ever so tired—indeed i would not, sir.”
“i’m not displeased, my boy,” said mr sudberry, kindly, patting him on the head; “i only wanted to know if he offered.”
“of course i did,” cried the imp, stoutly, with his arms akimbo—“and why not? don’t you see that the poor boy is dead beat; and was i goin’ to stand by and see him faint by his-self; all alone on the mountain?”
“certainly not!” and mr sudberry seized jacky and whirled him round till he was quite giddy, and fell on the heather with a cheer, and declared that he would not budge from that spot until they had lunched. need we say that mr sudberry himself was the subject of a new sensation that day,—a sensation of a peculiarly hopeful nature,—as he gazed at his youngest son; while that refined little creature crammed himself with sandwiches and ginger-bread, and besmeared his hands and visage with a pot of jam, that had been packed away by his mother for her own darling’s special use?
“my poor lad, you must not come any farther with us. i had no idea you were so much fatigued. remain here by the provisions, and rest in the sunshine till we return.”
so mr sudberry gave peter a plaid that had been carried up to serve as a table-cloth, and told him to wrap well up in it, lest he should catch cold. they left him there on the knoll, refreshed and happy, and with a new feeling in his breast in regard to jacky, whom, up to that day, he had regarded as an imp of the most hopelessly incorrigible description.
“over the mountain and over the moor” the sudberrys wandered. the ridge was gained, and a new world of mountains, glens, gorges, and peaks was discovered on the other side of it, with the lake of the clouds lying, like a bright diamond, far below them. they descended into this new world with a cheer. a laugh or a cheer was their chief method of conversation now—their spirits as well as their bodies being so high. “not a house to be seen! not a sign of man! the untrodden wilderness!” cried mr sudberry.
“robinson crusoe! mungo park! pooh!” shouted george. “hooray!” yelled jacky. the whole party laughed again, and down the slope they went, at such a pace that it was a miracle they did not terminate their career in the lake with the poetic name.
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!”
