“Not a bad idea;” and I took it.
“That’s right. Now canter him about a little, and you’ll soon get used to it.”
I shall carefully avoid having any future occasion to make use of my dear-bought experience. I felt remarkably sheepish as I rode out upon the course, and heard the observations of the crowd.
“And wha’s yon in the saumon-coloured jacket?”
“It’ll be him they ca’ Chaffinch.”
“Na, man—yon chield wad make twa o’ Chaffinch. He’s but a feather-wecht o’ a cratur.”
“Wow, Jess! but that’s a bonnie horse!”
“Bonnier than the man that’s on it, ony how.”
“Think ye that’s the beast they ca’ Masonyellow?”
“I’m thinkin’ sae. That man can ride nane. He’s nae grupp wi’ his thees.”