Geoffery Gambado Part 5

"Ah! that's bad! That's bad of itself. You met with no accident, to give your nervous system a shock, did you?"

"None whatever, except that my favourite old horse could go no longer, and I no longer felt inclined to go."

"But there are other horses that might be had equally as good."

"None, sir, None! I do not believe there is another horse in England that could carry me, like my old gray."

"If Yorkshire cannot suit you, I know no other county in the kingdom likely to do so. Surely, Doctor Greathead, you must be deceived in this respect?"

"Deceived or not, Doctor Gambado, I am not deceived in saying this, that I will ride no other horse; and, in fact, I would rather ride that horse on three legs, if he could be made to go upon them, then any other horse upon four."

Great men as well as little men have singular crotchets in their heads sometimes; and if these crotchets cannot be altered, they will go on in such a monotonous tone that they never get out of it. The Doctor was a learned scholar, and a very good divine; but his favourite horse was as dear to him as a lady's favourite cat or cap could be to her.

He had rode the same horse ten years, and had got so attached to him, that when that horse was seized with a lameness in the off hind leg, and could no longer stand or go upon it, the Doctor's sympathies increased with his favourite, though he was no longer any use to him. Like his master, the animal fed well, and could sleep well, but he could not go.

"Have you seen my horse?"

"I came to see yourself first, Doctor, and I can have no objection to go and see your horse, in company with my friend Mr. John Tattsall, who I should say knows more of a horse than any man living; and can make a horse go, I verily believe, on three legs."

The very idea gave animation to Doctor Greathead's features.

"I will walk with you to the stables."

He rang the bell, ordered his hat, gloves, and even his riding whip, so precocious was the idea that the Doctor had conceived of being able to mount once more his favourite gray.

The horse was led out, and came out upon three legs; the other evidently of no use to him. In fact he could not put it to the ground.

John examined the st.u.r.dy old fellow, who had a small head and stout legs; he p.r.o.nounced him to be afflicted with an incurable disease in the coffin-bone, and said he never could go upon that leg. He looked at all the other limbs, and p.r.o.nounced them _all right_.

"A fine old horse, your Reverence; a fine old horse, fit to carry your worship's weight; but he never will go again upon all fours."

"Can he ever be made to go upon three?"

"I see no reason to doubt it. The disabled limb is only such from the fetlock to the hoof; if the joint could be supported from the hock to the fetlock, and pressure be produced so as to keep that leg up to his body, without any weight falling upon the tendons of the foot, I see no reason why the horse should not canter upon three legs,--I do not say with the same ease as he would upon four sound ones; but certainly easier far than he could upon the four as they now are."

"You are a sensible man, sir, and what you say seems feasible. What would you suggest?"

"Let one of your grooms go and get a Yorkshire weaver's strap that will go once round the animal's body, and at the same time catch up the animal's leg,--and fasten it with a stout Birmingham buckle, so that the power shall be exerted in the leg bone without the fetlock or the foot; and I think your Reverence will be able to show to all the world _how to ride a horse on three legs_."

"Good! good! Let it be done immediately: I verily believe it can be done."

It literally was done, and in one hour Doctor Greathead showed that he himself was alive again. He mounted his favourite gray; and though the animal laid its ears, and lifted up its hind quarters, rather higher than usual, it went; and did perform what the Doctor never expected it to do again--namely, carried him a mile on the Carlisle road, and that without a fall.

It did the Doctor good whenever he did ride it. How often that was, we have no record to tell us.

He paid the Doctor of Medicine and his friend John Tattsall more than would have purchased three fine Yorkshire horses. In fact he paid for his whim.

He was cured of his whim.

And Doctor Gambado and his friend John returned to town satisfied.

If men have fancies, bugbears of the mind, And money, too, to pay for what they want; Why should they not, like Doctor Greathead, find Their fancies made to profit more than cant?

We all have fancies! what more should we say, Than if we would indulge them, we must pay?

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VI.

_Tricks upon Travellers._

The descent from the sublime to the ridiculous is a very easy transition in this mortal life. Even in the moments of utmost seriousness, we have seen something flit across the vision of the brain, or eye, or the spirit, that for a moment diverts the current of thought from the simplicity of the most devout and earnest Christian. Every moment we learn a new lesson of life and thought, from nature or from grace.

Thoughts are continually arising as to the probability of doing anyone any good, in these narratives. They form a diversion of thought, and much must depend upon the disposition of the mind of the reader. A good man will make some good out of every thing, and a bad man will find nothing good in anything.

To look simply at the picture, and to laugh at it, is easy; but to say, that they who played tricks upon others deserved to be whipped out of them, might be easier said than done.

Among the Doctor's patients was a singular mean old gentleman, Sir Abraham Crusty, who was recommended by the Doctor to ride out hunting, or to give the hounds a look, by way of diversion to his usual nothingness in his country-box. Sir Abraham had retired from city friends, city business, city thoughts,--to enjoy, as he hoped, the breezes and the green fields, and rural occupation at his country seat in Surrey; but being very hypochondriacal and very mean as well, he was desirous of being as economical as possible, and not desirous of being considered a regular fox-hunter.

He could look on, enjoy the variety, and not be expected to pay anything towards the support of the hounds. Hence he would drop in upon them, look at them, ride a little way with them, and then return quietly to his own mansion. He would not keep a hunting stud, nor any man-servant to ride out with him. He was old enough to take care of himself, wise to do his own will, and mean enough to think about n.o.body else but himself.

When he consulted the Doctor, and was told what to do, he asked him if he could tell him the best way to do it. "Go to John Tattsall's, buy a steady hunter with good strong limbs, and one that will make no mistake."

He did so: but John mistook him for an old farmer, and, consequently, gave him a good old hunter for a very little money. Any body might take Sir Abraham Crusty for what they pleased, so long as they did not take too much of his money; and that he took care not to throw away upon even saddle, bridle, or riding whip, for he rode on an old saddle covered with a thick cloth, and had a drover's cart whip for his hunting whip; and few would imagine Sir Abraham was going out to follow the hounds. He used to go himself overnight to the King Charles in the Oak, sleep there, and, as if he were merely a travelling man of business, who came for lodging for man and beast, he paid packman's fare for supper at night, and breakfasted upon eggs and bacon in the morning; and started off quietly for the covert's side, without any intention of being considered a hunter.

He went, however, one day with a very bitter complaint to Doctor Gambado, saying, he thought his horse would be the death of him, for that he never started from the Royal Oak without such a violent fit of kicking, that he was afraid of a fall; and that made him so nervous, he thought the Doctor ought to return him his fee, and Mr. Tattsall take the horse back and allow him something handsome for his keep of it.

"And so I will," replied the Doctor, "if John Tattsall do not cure him, or at least account for his kicking."

"Where do you say he exhibits these tricks?" said John.

"At the Royal Oak, Norwood."

John was there the next Easter hunt day. So was Sir Abraham.

John saw him start, and saw that two urchins, viz. the post boy and the boots, stuck a stick under his tail, which seldom fell off until the old gentleman had had quite enough of the kicking. But once the stick dropped, the old horse went quiet enough.

When Sir Abraham was gone, John came from his dormitory, and soon put this question to the lads:

"Why do you treat that old gentleman in this shabby way?"

"Vy, sar, because he is a shabby, crusty old fellow, and treats all the sarvents of the hestablishment in the shabbiest vay. He pays for his bed, and for his 'orse's bed,--for his board, and his 'orse's board,--but he never gives Sal anything, vat beds him up at night, nor Bill anything, vat beds his 'orse up,--nor me anything, vat cleans his old boots for him; so ve just shows him vun of our tricks upon travellers: that's all, and sarves him right."

This was told to the Doctor, who, the next time he saw Sir Abraham, said to him:

"Sir Abraham, you will forgive my honesty; but, if you wish to cure your horse of kicking at the Royal Oak, you must know how to be penny wise, and pay the chambermaid, the hostler, and the boots. I am sure you will never be pound foolish."