Book 3, Chapter 23

⁠​​​‌​​​​​​​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌⁠“Your horses of the Sun,” he said, “And first-rate whip Apollo! Whate’er they be, I’ll eat my head, But I will beat them hollow.”

Fred Vincy, we have seen, had a debt on his mind, and though no such immaterial burthen could depress that buoyant-hearted young gentleman for many hours together, there were circumstances connected with this debt which made the thought of it unusually importunate. The c