im,' the
all-overishness consisting of Mr. Leather being nearly all over the hack's
head, in consequence of the animal shying at another drunken man lying
across the road.

Mr. Sponge listened to the recital with the indifference of a man who rides
hack-horses, and coolly observed that Leather must take on the chestnut,
and he would ride the brown to cover.

'Couldn't, sir, couldn't,' replied Leather, with a shake of the head and a
twinkle of his roguish, watery grey eyes.

'Why not?' asked Mr. Sponge, who never saw any difficulty.

'Oh, sur,' replied Leather, in a tone of despondency, 'it would be quite
unpossible. Consider wot a day the last one was; why, he didn't get to rest
till three the next mornin'.'

'It'll only be walking exercise,' observed Mr. Sponge; 'do him good.'

'Better valk the chestnut,' replied Mr. Leather; 'Multum-in-Parvo hasn't
'ad a good day this I don't know wen, and will be all the better of a
bucketin'.'

'But I hate crawling to cover on my horse,' replied Mr. Sponge, who liked
cantering along with a flourish.

'You'll have to crawl if you ride 'Ercles,' observed Leather, 'if not walk.
Bless you! I've been a-nussin' of him and the 'ack most the 'ole night.'

'Indeed!' replied Mr. Sponge, who began to be alarmed lest his hunting
might be brought to an abrupt termination.

'True as I'm 'ere,' rejoined Leather. 'He's just as much off his grub as he
vos when he com'd in; never see'd an 'oss more reg'larly dished--more--'

'Well, well,' said Mr. Sponge, interrupting the catalogue of grievances; 'I
s'pose I must do as you say--I s'pose I must do as you say: what sort of a
day is it?'

'Vy, the day's not a bad day; at least that's to say, it's not a wery
haggrivatin' day. I've seen a betterer day, in course; but I've also seen
many a much worser day, and days at this time of year, you know, are apt to
change--sometimes, in course, for the betterer--sometimes, in course, for
the worser.'

'Is it a frost?' snapped Mr. Sponge, tired of his loquacity.

'Is it a frost?' repeated Mr. Leather thoughtfully; 'is it a frost? Vy, no;
I should say it _isn't_ a frost--at least, not a frost to 'urt; there may
be a little rind on the ground and a little rawness in the hair, but the
general concatenation--'

'Hout, tout!' exclaimed Mr. Sponge, 'let's have none of your dictionary
words.'

Mr. Leather stood silent, twisting his hat about.

The consequence of all this was, that Mr. Sponge determine