e midst of a fair of horses.

I have already had occasion to mention this castle. It is the remains of
what was once a Norman stronghold, and is perched upon a round mound or
monticle, in the midst of the old city. Steep is this mound and scarped,
evidently by the hand of man; a deep gorge over which is flung a bridge,
separates it, on the south, from a broad swell of open ground called 'the
hill'; of old the scene of many a tournament and feat of Norman chivalry,
but now much used as a show-place for cattle, where those who buy and
sell beeves and other beasts resort at stated periods.

So it came to pass that I stood upon this hill, observing a fair of
horses.

The reader is already aware that I had long since conceived a passion for
the equine race; a passion in which circumstances had of late not
permitted me to indulge. I had no horses to ride, but I took pleasure in
looking at them; and I had already attended more than one of these fairs:
the present was lively enough, indeed horse fairs are seldom dull. There
was shouting and whooping, neighing and braying; there was galloping and
trotting; fellows with highlows and white stockings, and with many a
string dangling from the knees of their tight breeches, were running
desperately, holding horses by the halter, and in some cases dragging
them along; there were long-tailed steeds and dock-tailed steeds of every
degree and breed; there were droves of wild ponies, and long rows of
sober cart horses; there were donkeys, and even mules: the last rare
things to be seen in damp, misty England, for the mule pines in mud and
rain, and thrives best with a hot sun above and a burning sand below.
There were--oh, the gallant creatures! I hear their neigh upon the wind;
there were--goodliest sight of all--certain enormous quadrupeds only seen
to perfection in our native isle, led about by dapper grooms, their manes
ribanded and their tails curiously clubbed and balled. Ha! ha!--how
distinctly do they say, ha! ha!

An old man draws nigh, he is mounted on a lean pony, and he leads by the
bridle one of these animals; nothing very remarkable about that creature,
unless in being smaller than the rest and gentle, which they are not; he
is not of the sightliest look; he is almost dun, and over one eye a thick
film has gathered. But stay! there _is_ something remarkable about that
horse, there is something in his action in which he differs from all the
rest: as he advances, the