D. G. Hogarth,
Accidents of an antiquary's life
(1910)
“ The very packhorses, sorry jades that they were, felt the spur of spring:167 they hinnied, squealed, headed off the track to gallantry and combat, till at last they broke into a frenzy of kicking and galloping which brought their packs about their heels and their panting drivers’ fists about their heads. A packhorse, who fancies himself Pegasus, is the most laughable beast on earth till he begins to scatter your bedding, your instruments, your garments and your food over a mile of rock or bog. ”
