boots! Crickets have as much calf, grasshoppers as much ostensible thigh;
and yet these superhuman specimens of manufactured leather fit like a
glove, and never pull the little gentlemen's legs off. That's the
extraordinary part of it; they never even so much as dislocate a joint!
Jockey bootmakers are wonderful men! Jockeys ain't men at all!

Look, look, look! Oh, dear! do you see that little fellow, with his
merry-thought-like looking legs, clinging round that gallant bright
chesnut, thoro'bred, and sticking to his ribs as if he meant to crimp him
for the dinner of some gourmand curious in horse-flesh! There he is,
screwing his sharp knees into the saddle, sitting well up from his loins,
stretching his neck, curving his back, stiffening the wire-like muscles of
his small arms, and holding in the noble brute he strides, as a
saftey-valve controls the foaming steam; only loosing him at his very
pleasure.

Look, look! there's the grey filly, with the other made-to-measure feather
on her back; do you notice how she has crawled up to the chesnut? Mark,
mark! his arms appear to be India-rubber! Mercy on us, how they stretch!
and the bridle, which looked just now like a solid bar of wrought iron,
begins to curve! See how gently he leans over the filly's neck; while the
chesnut's rider turns his eyes, like a boiled lobster, almost to the back
of his head! Oh, he's awake! he still keeps the lead: but the grey filly is
nothing but a good 'un. Now, the Top-boots riding her have become excited,
and commence tickling her sides with their flashing silver spurs, putting
an extra foot into every bound. She gains upon the chesnut! This is
something like a race! The distance-post is reached! The Top-boots on the
grey are at work again. Bravo! the tip of the white nose is beyond the
level of the opposing boots! Ten strides, and no change! "She must win!"
"No, she can't!" "Grey for ever!" "Chesnut for a hundred!" "Done!