[47]
CHAP. XV.
—"So hating, I say, to make mysteries of nothing"—I intrusted it with the post-boy, as soon as ever I got off the stones; he gave a crack with his whip to balance the compliment; and with the thill-horse trotting, and a sort of an up and a down of the other, we danced it along to Ailly au clochers, famed in days of yore for the finest chimes in the world; but we danced through it without music—the chimes being greatly out of order—(as in truth they were through all France).
And so making all possible speed, from
Ailly au clochers, I got to Hixcourt,from
