"Had the Doctor seen the horse before?"

"Frequently, and admired him for the strength of his limbs, and for his proportions."

"Do you remember what he said, when he brought the gentleman into your or his yard?"

"Yes. 'John, I've brought a customer.'"

"You knew what that meant?"

"Of course I did, and I led out the brown horse myself, and paced him, sold him, took the money; the cheque is, I suppose, in court: it was written for me, and I had no idea the horse was sold by anybody but me, to whom it belonged."

At this stage of the proceedings the solicitor for the prosecution intimated that his client wished to withdraw his case.

Serjeant Sharpe said, "He hoped his Honour would direct a verdict for the defendant, his client; and that the world would see what a shameful action it had been. He told the solicitor for the prosecution that he was glad that his client felt ashamed of himself. He could never make him amends for what he had done; that it was disgraceful in the extreme to seek the advice of so good a man, and to treat him in the way he had done. He was quite sure that he would shortly have an increase of his malady, and that even his friend, Mr. Ryecross, would no longer pity him."

The judge dismissed the case, with a high compliment to Doctor Gambado, and with full costs to be paid into court by Mr. Deuce.

This action had some good effect upon this unhappy man, though it did not cure him of hypochondriacism. He rode out on horseback--on his new horse;--but whenever that horse came to the sign of the Red Cross, on Blackheath, directly opposite the four cross ways, he would lift up his nose, stand stockstill, and as if he would have his rider see the cross, and think upon it, he would not be persuaded to move. In vain did the lawyer tug at him, chuck his bridle, kick his sides, and use the most violent gesticulations to get him on. Whether he had a _nose_ for the stables, or had been accustomed to Blackheath Red Cross on former days, he certainly had a nose, and until some one gently led him from the spot he would never be compelled to leave it. So he went by the name of _Old Deuce's Horse_, or, _The Horse with a Nose_.

Hast thou a nose to smell a rat?

Beware thou get not t.i.t for tat.

'Tis better far to keep thy nose, Than have it split by angry foes.

Avoiding strife, go, follow good, No harm will reach thee in such mood.

CHAPTER XV.

_Me, my Wife, and Daughter._

WHO can look upon the comfortable enjoyment of good and happy people, in their latter days, and not delight to see them? Such a picture as this, drawn originally by Henry Bunbury, Esq. and meant to convey a picture of domestic felicity in his day, would probably produce excessive ridicule if seen in these fast days. If, now, such a sight were seen in Rotten-row, however pleasing to the philanthropist, it would be called an affectation of absurdity. Yet Doctor Gambado, to the last year of his life, rode in such felicity that he was the only man in his profession that exactly practised the advice he gave. A contrast to everything in the present day,--we say to everything like modern enjoyment.

One hundred years ago, there were no puffing steam engines, drawing thousands, with the rapidity of lightning, to Brighton, Ramsgate, Margate, and Folkestone. Men all tell us, that domestic felicity is the same. We do not doubt it; but we find very few, very few, indeed, so blest with content, and so happy in their mutual society, as our respected friend, when, with his wife and daughter by his side, he rode a jog trot at the seaside, or the hillside, or along the fashionable road of life.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The Doctor had toiled through good report and evil report, and, like a prudent wise man, provided the best he could for his own. He kept up his house in Bread-street, though he declined practice altogether, that is, for _pecuniary profit_.

I question whether the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would not have considered this an overloaded beast; but there was no such society in existence then. The weary camel, toiling over the waste, might be overloaded; but he would let his driver know how much he would carry. John Tattsall furnished his good friend, the Doctor, with elephantine horses, stout, stiff, strong, bony and sinewy; he was, without the aid of Doctor Ca.s.sock, the inventor of a wicker pannier of such ample dimensions, as to afford the most easy and convenient chair for each of the ladies, without exposing feet or ancles, or incommoding boots or dress. Now, indeed, ladies who travel in first-cla.s.s carriages by rail, find the seats too narrow and almost destructive to their crinoline.

Hurrah for good people! Hurrah for happy people, wherever we can find them! Hurrah for the man who never allows his domestic felicity to be disturbed by any outward circ.u.mstances,--let his condition of life be among the highest or the lowest in the land! Hurrah for him who has the least ambition to gratify, except that of doing good to his neighbour!

Hurrah for a grateful heart wherever it can be found! But whilst we thus laud the domestic comfort of real good people, let us not forget that they must have pa.s.sed through many troubles and trials to gain that peace and serenity of mind, which our happy trio, Geoffery Gambado, his wife, and daughter, enjoyed. They had no affected display of superior accomplishments to delight society, and had no flattering encomiums pa.s.sed upon them for their gentility. They were gentle, well informed, quiet, loveable people. They spoke that which they considered right, and always did the right thing as it ought to be done. The law which their good and excellent pastor taught them, they never departed from, viz.

"That of doing to others, as they would others should do to them."

They kept the holiest law of true goodness, _Love one another_, in its perfect sense.

Doctor Gambado well knew who gave him a wife; and when he married, he resolved to perform the solemn vow he then made, and he kept his vow,--so did his wife hers,--and they were as happy a couple as could well be seen or known upon the face of the earth.

In his time, G.o.d's blessing was sought to enable him to keep his vow.

There was no law then permitting men to go and be married without any asking of G.o.d's blessing upon such a step. Marriage was not then degraded into the unholy thing it is now, and conscience merely made to answer to a legal contract, which difference of opinion, or quarrels, or contrariety of disposition, may get dissolved in a divorce court. "For better for worse, for richer for poorer, till death us do part," is no longer the sole and solemn bond of matrimony. But the Doctor was a Christian in the n.o.blest sense, and in domestic life his religion was his conscience, his wisdom, and his happiness. As little parade as man could make of outward profession was his study, but his heart was in the right place.

Where that is the case, ignorance and presumption, imposition and folly, are unknown. Men may ridicule simplicity of life and manners; but there is an honesty of heart superior to all affectation, which need never be afraid.

The troubles of life are always borne well by those who observe the law of G.o.d; and those who do not, never get any real release from them. They may get riches; they may hide the blush of coveteousness; but they have very little real comfort within themselves, because of the very changes which they themselves and all things around them undergo.

Doctor Gambado enjoyed every change of life, and lost no good condition either. He could look upon the calm sea with delight, and with the serenity of one who had not lived in vain. He always entertained the kindliest feelings of a brother for his sincere friend, Doctor Ca.s.sock, who used to drop in with any new number of the Spectator, and enjoy it.

The domestic evenings spent in cla.s.sical friendship are among the purest scholastic as well as domestic enjoyments.

Envy he had none, and therefore was most to be envied of those who, like Mr. Deuce, or anyone else, never enjoyed the happiness of another.

Promote the welfare of another, and you will find your own comfort increased. Detract from another, and nothing but envy will be your increase.

The object with which this book was begun, and is finished, is to let you see, reader, how to make something out of that which might to many appear worse than nothing.

Suppose that sixteen drawings of this character were given you, with nothing but the heading of each chapter written under them,--would you have made out a more comprehensive description of the probability of their truth? There is some profit in the labour, if your heart is in any way cheered by beholding the ingenuity of man.

Works of art, or works of great expense, or great works of any kind, the Author makes no kind of pretence to perform; yet, if you are pleased with his ingenuity, grudge not a helping hand at any time to reward industry.

Ah! little thought Gambado, in his day, As on he pa.s.sed through life's uneven way, How many toils and troubles he would scan, Before he reached the common age of man!

Yet on he went; and as his years declined, And quietude and peace becalmed his mind, He felt and owned, no greater bliss could be Than resignation for Eternity.

"Ah!" he would say, "behold, dear wife, yon sea, Each wave seems striving for celebrity!

It rolls along until it reach the sh.o.r.e, Then bursts in froth,--and then is seen no more!

Still, on and on succeeding waves advance, And thus perpetual motion would enhance.

'Tis so with mortals striving on and on, They reach the sh.o.r.e,--and all their toil is gone.

How oft yon waves, by angry tempests tost, Like human pa.s.sions, are in fury lost; Dash'd on the rocks, their crested pride, in foam Sprays into atoms ere it finds a home."

So mighty strugglers after this world's fame, Find all their fury perish with their name.

'Tis seldom known that speculators thrive, Or long their great inventions may outlive.

Others come on,--no end of new things known, One age will praise,--the next, the praise disown.

Feathers you wear,--but feathers blown away, Will be succeeded by some new display.

We ride on horseback, and survey the tide,-- The age will come, that horses none will ride; The age will be that coaches will no more Be seen with horses, two, or three, or four; But on will pa.s.s, and leave no other trace, Than iron's friction from a rapid pace.

What would Gambado think, if he could see His own predictions made a verity?

Who can predict one single year's advance?

Truth is so strange it seems a day's romance.

Things that last year were mighty,--are all gone; Works of great hope,--are perished and undone.

Iron is moulded by the human hand; And wooden walls no more the seas command.

All would be great, be rich, and all invent, But few there are, who are at all content.

With lightning speed intelligence conveyed From land to land, the iron rails are laid,-- And 'neath the ocean's deep united cords, Convey the merchant's or the prince's words.

But mostly all, by sea, or land, or train, Is that the traffickers may get their gain.

The greatest gain, that ever man could get, Is sweet contentment after every fret.

When projects are completed, all is vain, For other projects follow in their train; Old age comes on,--all projects quickly cease,-- Happy are they who live and die in peace.

Gambado did so: Reader, may thy fame Rest with content on One Blest, Holy Name!

THE END.