“What a shame!” exclaimed the Commissioner, driving on. “What a shame,” repeated he, whipping his horse into a trot.
And as he proceeded, he presently fell in with Dr. Pillerton, to whom he related how infamously the Hit-im and Hold-im shire chaps had used poor Green, breaking three of his ribs, and nearly knocking his eye out. And Dr. Pillerton, ever anxious, &c., told D’Orsay Davis, the great we of the Featherbedfordshire Gazette, who forthwith penned such an article on fox-hunting Jealousy, generally, and Hit-im and Hold-im shire Jealousy in particular, as caused Sir Moses to declare he’d horsewhip him the first time he caught him,—“dom’d if he wouldn’t.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE SICK HORSE AND THE SICK MASTER.
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YOUR oss sall be seek—down in de mouth dis mornin’, sare,” observed Monsieur to Billy, as the latter lay tossing about in his uncomfortable bed, thinking how he could shirk that day’s hunting penance; Sir Moses, with his usual dexterity, having evaded the offer of lending him a horse, by saying that Billy’s having nothing to do the day before would be quite fresh for the morrow.