describe myself to you. You never were afflicted in the same way."
"How do you know that?"
"I am sure of it. You never were tormented morning, noon, and night. You never hated your profession, as I do mine. You never felt that you killed a great many more than you cured! You never loathed the sight of your wife and children, your house, servants, food, bed, board and lodging. In short, I am a regular monster to myself, and shall soon be good for nothing! Did you ever feel so, my friend?"
"Yes, and ten thousand times worse than all you have described."
"My dear friend, it is impossible."
"You may think it so, – and I certainly thought, once, exactly as you do now, – I can therefore make allowances for you. I tell you, no one ever appears so bad to any man, as the afflicted man does to himself. He would soon be better if he could once see others worse than himself, or as bad as himself, and wish, heartily wish, to see them cured. I tell you, such was my case – even worse than yours, – and I can cure you."
"Will you, my dear friend? will you?"
"Yes, will I; and as we never take fees of the faculty, therefore, I will cure you for nothing. I do not say, with nothing. – No. Will you follow my advice?"
"Yes, assuredly. What is it?"
"Ride on horseback."
"I never did so since I was a boy."
"Nor did I, till I tried."
"But did that cure you?"
"Yes, it did; and will cure you also."
"How long did you ride before you felt better?"
"Not an hour."
"How long before you were well again?"
"Six days; six miles out, every day; six miles home; and in six days all those morbid secretions went away from my brain, and I became as I am, a cheerful and happy man."
"But how shall I manage? I must begin de novo. I must learn, and I must get a horse that will just move as I want him, slow and sure; either a walk, or a gentle canter; one that does not mind the whip; and I dare not ride one with a spur."
"My dear fellow, I have a friend who served me with a horse just as I wanted it; and I have no doubt he can serve you just as well. I will write him a note, and you shall take it to him yourself."
Accordingly, the Doctor wrote him one of his laconic Epistles.
"Dear Tatt. – Mount my brother Doctor; give him a stiff-one, and one that will require a little exercise of the deltoides of the right arm. He can pay. Suit him well.
Now the celebrated Doctor Bull had as good a pair of carriage horses as any Squire Bull in England. Tatt. certainly mounted him on one "that he could not" make the least of. He was quiet enough, stiff enough, slow enough, steady enough; he did not mind the whip, for the Doctor might cut him over the head, neck, ears, and under the flank, and anywhere, and everywhere else; but the beast had no animation. The more he punished him, he only went the surest way to show to the world, How to make the least of a horse.
A few days after his horse exercise, he called on his friend Doctor Gambado, and said, "Doctor, I am certainly better; but I believe I should have been quite as well, if I had mounted a saddler's wooden horse, and tried to make him go, as I am in trying to make your friend Tattsall's horse go. I could not have believed it possible that any beast could bear without motion such a dose of whip-cord as I have administered to him."
"You asked for one that would bear the whip: did you not?"
"Yes, and one that was steady, did not shy, and would go very gently even a slow pace; but this horse has no pace at all."
"Well, my good old friend, I am glad you are better; that's a great point. I have no doubt, none in the world, that if you could mount Master Johnny's rocking-horse, and would do so, and have a good game of romps with your boy, it would do you as much good as showing to the world how to make the least of a horse, by kicking, flogging, checking his rein, and trying to persuade him to go on.
"But if you will only walk down with me to John Tattsall's stables, I have no doubt you will quickly learn a lesson of equestrian management that shall soon set you right with the public, and most especially with yourself. You have learnt nothing but how to make the least of a horse. Let my servant take your horse back; and if John Tattsall do not soon show you how to make the most of a horse, then do not pay him either for his horse or for his pains; but set all down to my account. Be seated, my dear fellow, whilst I send your horse back with a note. The Doctor wrote —
Dear John, – My brother Bull wants to learn how to make the most of a horse. We will be with you in the course of an hour.
The brothers M.D. sat down to an hour's chat upon politics, stocks, dividends, and philosophy; and at the end of one hour were seen wending their way arm-in-arm to the celebrated Livery Stables of John Tattsall, whither we will follow them, just to see if we can behold a contrast.
Far we need not go, to see
What makes a contrariety.
CHAPTER III
Arrived at the stables, it was not long before Doctor Gambado introduced his brother and friend Doctor Bull to the noted personage of his day, John Tattsall. Is the name of Tattsall, as it used to be called, corrupted, from a hundred years ago, now to that of Tattersall? We do not know the gentleman's dealer, auctioner, or horse agent of the latter name; but if he be the descendant of the great John Tattsall, we only hope he is as good a man as his ancestor. A better in his line could never be. It requires a knowledge of a man's craft, to say whether he is a good or bad workmen at it. We have very little knowledge of horse-dealers' craft, but their profits must be very great, – when the licence is set so high as five and twenty pounds, before they can practise the economy of horse-dealing. A hundred years ago, and the tax was not so high.
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