e high-road; and,
dog on it, they made a noise like thunder, throwing out their big heavy
feet behind them, and whisking their tails from side to side as if they
would have dung out one another's een; till, not being used to gallop,
they at last began to funk and fling; syne first one stopping, and then
another, wheeling round and round about like peiries, in spite of the
riders whipping them, and pulling them by the heads. The man's mare,
however, from the Grassmarket, with the limping leg, carried on, followed
by the white one, an old tough brute, that had belonged in its youth to a
trumpeter of the Scots Greys; and, to tell the truth, it showed mettle
still, though far past its best; so back they came, neck and neck, all
the folk crying, and holloing, and clapping their hands--some "Weel dune
the lame ane--five shillings on the lame ane;"--and others, "Weel run
Bonaparte--at him, auld Bonaparte--two to one that Whitey beats him all
to sticks,"--when, dismal to relate, the limping-legged ane couped the
creels, and old white Bonaparte came in with his tail cocked amid loud
cheering, and no small clapping of hands.

We all ran down the road to the place where the limping horse was lying,
for it was never like to rise up again any more than the bit rider, that
was thrown over its head like an arrow out of a bow; but on helping him
to his feet, save and except the fright, two wide screeds across his
trowser-knees, and a scratch along the brig of his nose, nothing visible
was to be perceived. It was different, however, with the limping horse.
Misfortunate brute! one of its fore-legs had folded below it, and snapped
through at the fetlock joint. There was it lying with a sad sorrowful
look, as if it longed for death to come quick and end its miseries; the
blood, all the while, gush-gushing out at the gaping wound. To all it
was as plain as the A, B, C, that the bones would never knit; and that,
considering the case it was in, it would be an act of Christian charity
to put the beast out of pain. The maister gloomed, stroked his chin, and
looked down, knowing, weel-a-wat, that he had lost his bread-winner, then
gave his head a nod, nod--thrusting both his hands down to the bottom
lining of the pockets of his long square-tailed jockey coat. He was a
wauf, hallanshaker-looking chield, with an old broad-snouted japanned
beaver hat pulled over his brow--one that seemed by his phisog to hold
the good word of the world as noth