Postilion galloping uphilldetails

The postilion managed the point to a miracle: by the time he had got to the foot of a steep hill, about half a league from Nampont, he had put me out of temper with him, and then with myself, for being so.

My case then required a different treatment; and a good rattling gallop would have been of real service to me.

Then, prithee, get on—get on, my good lad, said I.

The postilion pointed to the hill. I then tried to return back to the story of the poor German and his ass; but I had broke the clue, and could no more get into it again, than the postilion could into a trot. (p. 74)