“Pa, here he is! And he does look so fat, I know he will be restive”.
“Prepare your Aunt Doxyʼs mind, my dear, not to scold more than she can help, in case of the worst—I mean, if the legs of my trousers want rubbing. How rash of me, to be sure, to have put them on to–day! Prius dementat. I trust sincerely—and old Channing is so proud of them, and he says the cut is so fashionable. Nevertheless, I heard our Clayton, as he went down the gravelwalk, treating, with what he himself would have called ‘colores orationis’, upon Uncle Johnʼs new bags; θύλακοι, I suppose he meant, as opposed to ἀναξυρίδες. I was glad that the subject possessed so lively an interest for him; notwithstanding which, I was very glad Mr. Channing did not hear him”.
“The impudence! Well, I am astonished. And to see the things he brought back from Oxford—quince–coloured, with a stripe that wide, like one of my fancy gourds. Iʼll be sure to have it out with him. No, I canʼt, though; I forgot”. And Amy looked down with a rosy smile, remembering the delicacy of the subject. “But I am quite sure of one thing, pa: Mr. Cradock would never have done it. Ræbus, donʼt kick up the gravel. Do you suppose we can roll every day? Oh, you are so fat, you darling”!
“When the sides are deep”, said the rector, quoting from Xenophon, “and somewhat protuberant at the stomach, the horse is generally more easy to ride. What a comfort, Amy! Stronger, moreover, and more capable of enjoying food”.
“He has enjoyed a rare lot this morning. At least I hope you have, you sweetest. Why, pa, I declare you are whistling”!
“It also behoves a horseman to know that it is a time–honoured precept to soothe the steed by whistling, and rouse him by a sharp sound made between the tongue and the palate”.
“Oh, father, donʼt do that. Promise me now, dear, wonʼt you”?
“I will promise you, my child, because I donʼt know how to do it. I tried very hard last Wednesday, and only produced a guttural. But I think I shall understand it, after six or seven visiting days. At least, if the air is sharp”.
“No, pa, I hope you wonʼt. It would be so reckless of you; and I know you will get a sore throat”.
“Sweet of my world, cor cordium, you have wrapped me with three involucres tighter than any hazel–nut. They will all go into my pocket the moment I am round the corner”.