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 milk of tho old man found a very different destiny to what its owner intended. They first jumped up in front of the cart, seized the halter, and galloped off, leaving the poor man to follow as best he could—then took out all the spiggots, and in grand stylo drove along George Street, past the Assembly rooms, to the astonishment of the fashionables whom they had lately left; then down Frederick Street, along Prince’s Street, and back again to St. Andrew’s Square, all the time followed by the old milk-man, who, in the agony of his heart, at seeing his valuable property deluging the causeway, exhausted his whole vocabulary of exclamations, in giving vent to his indignation. With his sky-blue top coat flying behind him, and his rough-shod heels striking fire from the pavement, he pursued his ravished cart, shouting as loud as his exhausted lungs would permit.———“O! ye unhanged blackguards!———ye villains!———ye de’ils buckies!———I’ll hae the law o’ ye, gin there be law in Emburgh, ye vagabonds!———I’ll get ye a better house than your father biggit for ye, ye rascals!——— I’ll get ye clappit up as sure’s ye’re leevin’, ye rampaugin Emburgh hallanshakers!” As soon as he arrived at the Hotel, the Marquis delivered the reins into his hand; but blue-bonnet vowed he would not quit him, till he had ascertained his name, and that of his companion. Mr———, put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a piece of paper, which he said contained the required address, and while the old man unfolded it, our young heroes took the opportunity to escape. The bit of paper turned out to be a ten pound note; “Ah, stop, my bonnie lads,” cries the appeased milkman, I’ve something to say t’ye—will ye need ony mair milk the morn?”