Winthrop's walk along the streets was a poor emblem of his mind's travelling at the time; -- a painful picking the way among difficulties, a struggle to secure a footing where foothold there was not; the uncertain touch and feeling of a cold and slippery world.

All true, -- not more literally than figuratively.

And upon this would come, with a momentary stop and push forward of the wheelbarrow, -- "'Faith, it's asier going backwards nor for'ards! -- Which way _will_ I turn, yer honour?
is it up or down ?" "Straight ahead." "Och, but I'd rather the heaviest wheeling that ever was invinted, sooner nor this little slide of a place.

-- Here we go! -- Och, stop us! -- Och, but the little carriage has taken me to itself intirely.

It was all I could do to run ahint and keep up wid the same.