130 ANGLING REMINISCENCES. 



knocked up ; I can't drag a leg after its fellow, I 

 can't lift a jaw, or turn a cheek, or throw up an eye- 

 shutter. My back aches, my belly groans, my legs 

 totter, and my hands are weak and passive as an 

 infant's. 



Swivel. This is a sudden change. Methoughtthy 

 vigour was restored, and that thou wert fresh as at 

 starting. Where now hath thy valour gone, that I 

 may bring it thee ? But move, man, move ! Force 

 up courage for a score of minutes. Shake thy ma- 

 chinery into action. 



May. Nay, Doctor, I cannot. I am conquered 

 for want of thews invincible ; I have walked off all 

 power of walking on my heart halts and 



Swivel. Fudge ! But thou art ill-like in earnest, 

 and chalk-coloured in the visage. Mount upon my 

 back, Bill ; I will carry thee, man ; come, get up. 



May. Not so, not so ; let me lean on this stone 

 awhile. 'Twill revive me, Doctor, and freshen my 

 lirnbs. 



Swivel. Folly ! hoist thyself on these shoulders of 

 mine. Thou art light as thine own pannier, and 

 salmon-sized withal. Fancy a stirrup, Bill, and put 

 thy foot in't. I am no restive unruly charger, but 

 sure-paced, and quiet as a lamb. So mount thee, 

 Bill necessity has no law besides, thou hast the 

 joke to thyself. 



May. I will e'en ascend thee, thou biped perilous ! 

 but not fast, not fast ; for I am giddy as a wind- 

 mill, and the wits are flying out of me in legions. Be 



