Digital primer

When anything definite could be extracted from the mass of
confusion, he was expatiating on steeple-chasing, hurdle-racing, weights
for age, ons and offs clever--a sort of mixture of hunting, racing, and
'Alken.'
Sponge cocked his ear, and sat on the watch, occasionally hazarding an
observation, while Jack, who was next Pacey, on the left, pretended to
decry Sponge's judgement, asking _sotto voce_, with a whiff through his
nose, what such a Cockney as that could know about horses? What between
Jack's encouragement, and the inspiring influence of the bottle, aided by
his own self-sufficiency, Pacey began to look upon Sponge with anything but
admiration; and at last it occurred to him that he would be a very proper
subject to, what he called, 'take the shine out of.'
'That isn't a bad-like nag, that chestnut of yours, for the wheeler of a
coach, Mr. Sponge,' exclaimed he, at the instigation of Spraggon, to our
friend, producing, of course, a loud guffaw from the party.
'No, he isn't,' replied Sponge coolly, adding, 'very like one, I should
say.


Pages:
559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583