'F-o-r-r-ard! for-rard!
hoop!' screeched he, as he saw Miss Glitters looking back to see where he
was. 'F-o-r-rard! for-rard!' repeated he; adding, in apparent delight, 'My
eyes, but we're in for a stinger! Hold up, horse!' roared he, as his horse
now went starring up to the knees through a long sheet of ice, squirting
the clayey water into his rider's face. 'Hold up!' repeated he, adding,
'I'm dashed if one mightn't as well be crashin' over the Christial Palace
as ridin' over a country froze in this way! 'Ord rot it, how cold it is!'
continued he, blowing on his finger-ends; 'I declare my 'ands are quite
numb. Well done, old brown bouts!' exclaimed he, as a crash on the right
attracted his attention; 'well done, old brown bouts!--broke every bar i'
the gate!' adding, 'but I'll let Mr. Buckram know the way his beautiful
horses are 'bused. Well,' continued he, after a long skate down the grassy
side of Ditchburn Lane, 'there's no fun in this--none whatever. Who the
deuce would be a huntsman that could be anything else? Dash it! I'd rayther
be a hosier--I'd rayther be a 'atter--I'd rayther be an undertaker--I'd
rayther be a Pusseyite parson--I'd rayther be a pig-jobber--I'd rayther be
a besom-maker--I'd rayther be a dog's-meat man--I'd rayther be a cat's-meat
man--I'd rayther go about a sellin' of chick-weed and sparrow-grass!' added
he, as his horse nearly slipped up on his haunches.
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