Our Road Lay Up The Ashburton, Which We Had Repeatedly To Cross And
Recross.
A dray going through a river is a pretty sight enough when you are
utterly unconcerned in the contents
Thereof; the rushing water stemmed
by the bullocks and the dray, the energetic appeals of the driver to
Tommy or Nobbler to lift the dray over the large stones in the river,
the creaking dray, the cracking whip, form a tout ensemble rather
agreeable than otherwise. But when the bullocks, having pulled the dray
into the middle of the river, refuse entirely to pull it out again; when
the leaders turn sharp round and look at you, or stick their heads under
the bellies of the polars; when the gentle pats on the forehead with the
stock of the whip prove unavailing, and you are obliged to have recourse
to strong measures, it is less agreeable: especially if the animals
turn just after having got your dray half-way up the bank, and, twisting
it round upon a steeply inclined surface, throw the centre of gravity
far beyond the base: over goes the dray into the water. Alas, my
sugar! my tea! my flour! my crockery! It is all over - drop the curtain.
I beg to state my dray did not upset this time, though the centre of
gravity fell far without the base: what Newton says on that subject is
erroneous; so are those illustrations of natural philosophy, in which a
loaded dray is represented as necessarily about to fall, because a
dotted line from the centre of gravity falls outside the wheels.
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