The night was fine and frosty, though, when I pretended to see
what its character was, it might have rained like the deluge. I
only made the excuse to escape from old Christie Steele. The
horses which run races in the Corso at Rome without any riders,
in order to stimulate their exertion, carry each his own spurs
namely, small balls of steel, with sharp, projecting spikes,
which are attached to loose straps of leather, and, flying about
in the violence of the agitation, keep the horse to his speed by
pricking him as they strike against his flanks. The old woman's
reproaches had the same effect on me, and urged me to a rapid
pace, as if it had been possible to escape from my own
recollections. In the best days of my life, when I won one or
two hard walking matches, I doubt if I ever walked so fast as I
did betwixt the Treddles Arms and the borough town for which I
was bound. Though the night was cold, I was warm enough by the
time I got to my inn; and it required a refreshing draught of
porter, with half an hour's repose, ere I could determine to give
no further thought to Christie and her opinions than those of any
other vulgar, prejudiced old woman.
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