Geoffery Gambado Part 9

"I should not mind what I had to pay, if I could be suited to my mind."

"Let us go and give him a look. If you can at all describe to him the sort of horse you want, I think he will soon be able to accommodate you.

You may be sure, if the horse can be had, he will get it for you, if it is not at this time in his stable."

The Doctor's fee was cheerfully paid, 10 10s. neatly wrapt up in tissue paper. He had been told nothing less could be expected from a master cutler.

Mr. Green put on his large slouchy broad-brimmed hat that covered half his face; and the Doctor and his patient were soon in the presence of the great Mr. Tattsall.

"John, this gentleman wants a horse."

"Glad of it, sir. Pray what sort of horse do you want, sir?"

"A good one."

"Every body wants that, and I have a great many good 'uns;' but I like to know the sort of good 'un that a gentleman requires. One man likes a bay, another a gray, another a roan, another a chestnut; but the colour is not always the description. One likes a high action, another a gentle goer, another a thunderer, another a prime bang up; one likes a thorough-bred, another a hunter; some require cobs, others carriage horses, others ladies' horses, others park horses; but if you can describe the sort of animal you want, I can soon tell you if I can suit you."

"I did once see a horse," said Mr. Green, evidently calling up to his recollection days long gone by; "I did once see a horse that made me say to myself, 'There! if ever I ride on horseback, I should like to get just such a horse as that.' It was gentleness and elegance personified.

It was a beautiful creature. It turned out its toes, just lifted one foot above the other, with a kind of quick cross action, and then set it down with such elegance and ease, that it seemed to trip along over the ground, exactly like a dancing master. Proud was its bearing, head up, and tail high," and Mr. Green most poetically described it in these words:

"It brushed the morning dew, And o'er the carpet flew, With all becoming grace.

So gentle, and so n.o.bly bred, Give it alone its upshot head, 'Twould go at any pace."

"Sir, I perceive you are a poet."

"Not a bit of it. I only cut them out of the Poet's Corner, in the Star, and I think the author's name was 'Anon;' but it mattered not as to who was the author, it described the very horse; and I thought then, and I think so still, that by a very short transposition it would suit my wife, and perhaps many others. What think you, sir?"

"She brushed the evening dew, And o'er the carpet flew, With all becoming grace.

So gentle, and so n.o.bly bred, Give her alone her upshot head, She'd go at any pace."

The Doctor and the dealer could not help laughing.

"I perceive, sir, you are a wag; if you are not a poet. I congratulate you upon having so charming a creature for your wife; and I only wish I may be able to suit you with as good a horse."

"Have you a horse of this description?"

"I have a mare exactly of that kind, and we call her the Daisy Cutter."

"Pray, let me see her."

"Shall I ride her, to show you her qualities?"

"If you please."

"Bring out the Daisy Cutter."

She was brought forth, and John soon set her off to advantage.

"Just the very thing! Just the very thing! Will you send her down to Birmingham? I am not exactly in riding trim, or I would ride her down myself."

The animal was paid for, sent home, and proved to be the very creature suited to Mr. Green's case.

He rode his celebrated Rosenante every evening, and greatly improved in bodily health. He actually became cheerful, and his wife blessed the good Doctor Gambado for having restored her husband to himself again.

Alas! for human infirmities, or for human vagaries! One of the most wonderful complaints of nervous hypochondriacism, was actually cured, together with its cause, by a momentary spree.

One beautiful evening, the little man was riding in the gaiety of his heart toward Aston Hall, visions of future greatness pa.s.sing before his eyes, when, just upon the greensward in front of the park gates, there lay in his way a great black hog, on the very edge of the road. He thought within himself, that he should like to take a leap smack over the animal's back; and just looking round to see that no eye should behold his spree, he gave his "Rosenante" an unwonted kick with his heels.

She was certainly surprised at her master's unwonted action, and in the spurt of the moment, c.o.c.ked her tail, lifted her head, and quickened her pace;--but whether she did not see the hog, or could not leap over it if she did, she ran directly over the animal, and fell over it, awaking it in a horrible fright to scamper grunting away;--but, alas! she pitched her own head, and her master's head also, without his hat, upon the hard road. They both went the whole hog. Mr. Green lay senseless on the road, in a pool of blood, arising from the severity of the blow, which tore away the whole scalp of the forehead, together with the entire wart or excrescence which grew thereupon. His Rosenante affrighted, returned to Birmingham,--was soon recognized,--and Mr. Green was soon carried insensible to the hospital. He remained there some days, recovering himself and his senses.

Thus the Daisy Cutter and his vagaries became a proverb in Birmingham.

And that which skill could not, or rather through nervous apprehension was not, permitted to try, a black hog, one of the most unlikely things in the world, was instrumental in effecting.

When spirits mount in cheerful glee, Beware of leaping for a spree; For sprees create a fall: And when you leap alone in-cog, Beware of going the whole hog; Better not go at all.

Yet sometimes good from ill may spring,-- One spree may prove satiety: If Daisy Cutters wisdom bring, Rejoice in the variety.

CHAPTER XIV.

_A Horse with a Nose._

DID any one ever see a horse without a nose? It cannot, therefore, be meant, at the heading of this chapter, to draw any distinction between a horse with a nose, and a horse without one. We say of a dog, he has got a good nose; that is, if, as hound, pointer, or retriever, he can scent or find his game _well_. A man we have seen without a nose, and a very painful sight it is to see any feature of the human face in any way distorted; but that such a man can "smell a rat," denotes not that he has a peculiar quality of scent, but that he is a cunning fellow, and can look a little deeper into the artifices of men and their motives than others are aware of. Some men have indeed the smoothest faces, and the simplest manners, and yet retain the utmost cunning, or, if men like it better, wisdom in the world. They can smell a rat,--they can discover a flaw in the indictment,--they can see how an adversary may be overthrown, and can quietly stir up strife and pick the pocket of friend or foe, without of course doing any thing wrong; defrauding any one, or in any way letting the sufferer himself suppose that he is the victim or tool, or goose to be plucked by the cunning craft and subtlety of the deceiver.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

If men will ruin themselves, whose fault is it? but, if they do so, there are plenty to rise upon their ruin, and to laugh at their folly.

Conscience, they say, makes cowards of all men; but that conscience must be founded, not upon any man's judgement, but their own. There never was any man who did no wrong that could be afflicted by his own conscience; but there never was a man, who by his own unaided judgment, ever did right so perfectly, that his conscience could entirely acquit him of every base and sordid motive. Many may be very highly honourable and upright men, and yet have a great many rogues to deal with, and scarcely know how to deal with them. The best way is to say nothing, but avoid them.

Doctor Gambado had a patient come to him of this kind, and he was a lawyer who stood _very, very_ high in his station one hundred years ago.

He was provokingly ill,--ill in his body,--ill in his mind,--ill at ease with himself,--and dreadfully afflicted with such disturbed thoughts at night, that his sleep went from him, and his conscience had no rest.

It is very provoking to have a troublesome conscience; but it is more provoking still, not to be able to quiet that conscience by any common or uncommon means. Simon Deuce, Esq. who actually attained the eminence of high authority, not in the court of Conscience, or in the court of Equity, but in Chancery, had retired from business and left his son-in-law, Sir Charles Dubious, his house in Billiter-square. He himself took a mansion on Blackheath, and there he sought in vain for that enjoyment of rest and contentment, which good men only inherit in their latter end.

Physic was in vain,--advice, such as most men give, produced no cessation of anxiety. He became moody, sullen, morose, irritable, dogmatic, and all but absolutely irrational. His faculties were piercingly sound, his memory most acute, his legal knowledge clear, and his discovery of transgressions of law were every day displayed before his eyes, from those who rode in a coronetted barouche, to those who rode in a donkey cart. He loved, actually loved to make complaints, and to see the law carried out; and in petty acts of tyranny he was so absolute a persecutor, that he was a terror to all who lived around him.

Generosity was never in his nature, neither did he ever pretend to teach it, or observe its laws. In fact, every one was considered by him as a weak fool, who did either a kind or generous act, beyond the positive obligation of the law.

What happiness could such a man have in his retirement? His great happiness was the acc.u.mulation of money in the funds, and these occasioned him a momentary excitement. His friend, Samuel Ryecross, of Ryecross-house, Blackheath, advised him to consult Doctor Gambado.

"Do you mean Gambado, the horse dealer?"

"He is not a horse dealer."

"I say he is a horse dealer, and ought to take out a licence for horse dealing. He does not do so, and I have half a mind to have him up, and bring him into court for cheating, defrauding, and robbing the government."