Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. ” Anna never flinched. That is what my mother used to call me. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world. . Be a sport, and pile it all on me!" He went to bed.
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