Digital primer

'
The road, or rather track, now passed over Blobbington Moor, and our
friends had enough to do to keep their horses out of peat-holes and bogs,
without indulging in conversation. At length they cleared the moor, and,
pulling out a gap at the corner of the inclosures, cut across a few fields,
and got on to the Stumpington turnpike.
'The hounds are here,' said Jack, after studying the muddy road for some
time.
'They'll not be there long,' replied his lordship, 'for Grabtintoll Gate
isn't far ahead, and we don't waste our substance on pikes.'
His lordship was right. The imprints soon diverged up a muddy lane on the
right, and our sportsmen now got into a road so deep and bottomless as to
put the idea of stones quite out of the question.
'Hang the road!' exclaimed his lordship, as his hack nearly came on his
nose, 'hang the road!' repeated he, adding, 'if Puff wasn't such an ass, I
really think I'd give him up the cross-road country.'
'It's bad to get at from us,' observed Jack, who didn't like such trashing
distances.


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