Geoffery Gambado Page 4

  CHAPTER II.

  _A Brother Patient.--How to make the least use of a Horse._

  It was not long before the Doctor received a visit from an old friend;one, who had, in younger days, been a student in the same school, andentered into practice about the same time. The servant introduced DoctorBull,--yes, Doctor John Bull, or, more properly styled, John Bull, Esq.M.D.--but not F.R.S. No, Doctor Bull had been more ambitious ofpractising, than of obtaining an empty name. He was a steady, well-to-dolittle man, and never lost a patient from any want of good manners orattention. He had certainly given much thought to the subject of_Hydrophobia_, and was considered no mean authority in the treatment ofcases pronounced very malignant; but he by no means confined hisabilities to that one branch of human misfortune.

  He advised well with the Surgeons, and, generally, approved theirtreatment; but suggested frequently that judicious change which thenature of the case required. This he did in so gentlemanly andconsiderate a manner, that he was sure to be consulted by the very nextpatient of the same Surgeon.

  In this way, he made many friends, lost very few, and found himself inthe most affluent circumstances from very extensive practice. But,somehow, he overworked himself, and got into a very irritable, and atthe same time desponding, tone. Prosperity tries men very often moreseverely than adversity.

  The Doctor, as long as he had his way to make in the world, was moreattentive to others, and thought less about his own ails than he didabout others. Now that he had accumulated money, he began to think ofinvestments, and how he should place to the best account hisaccumulations.

  He also thought a little more of style, equipage, choice society, andinnumerable things, to which his life had been hitherto a stranger. Hebegan to think and to care more about himself, than he did about anybody else. He became of some consequence in his neighbourhood, andexpected every one to bow to him, and to treat him as a _monied man_. Inshort, from a pure philanthropist, he became almost a misanthrope.

  He began to torment himself about every thing and every body. Nothingpleased him,--his wife and children disturbed him,--he was downrightcross to them. And the same man, who once never came into his housewithout a cheerful smile for every one in it, now took no notice ofanyone, except it were to find fault, and to let out words which in hissober senses he would be shocked to hear any other person make use of.

  "My dear, I am sure you are not well," said Mrs. Bull, to him one day,"I am sure you are not well."

  "I could have told you that," was the reply.

  "Do take a little change."

  "Pish! change! what change? I am changing, and shall soon make somegreat change, if things go on as they do in this house."

  "Is anything wrong, my dear?"

  "Yes, everything is wrong,--nothing is right,--all things are out oforder,--and everything wants a change."

  "Well, my dear, I think, if we took a house for three months atBrighton, it would do us all good."

  "What good, madam? And who is to pay for it? What will become of mypatients? and how am I to support my family? Brighton indeed! No, no! IfI cannot be better without going to Brighton, I had better decline athome! Who is to look after my patients?"

  "Why, there is Doctor Goodfellow, who I am sure you admire. He willattend any of your patients for you. Do, my dear, have a littlecompassion upon yourself."

  "And, I suppose, upon you too; upon Kitty as well; upon Mary, Patty, andlittle Johnny; servants and all,--Heigh!"

  "If you please, my dear, even so, for you have not had much compassionupon any of us lately; and a change towards us all would be veryagreeable."

  A good wife has nothing to fear, and especially when she knows that sheso loves her husband as to desire his health above all things else,whether of body, mind, or spirit. If a wife may not expostulate with herhusband, who may? And notwithstanding all his perverseness, she had herown way with him, because she felt it was right.

  To Brighton they all went; but the fancy had taken too strong hold uponDoctor Bull, to let him rest. He worried himself because he was awayfrom London,--he worried himself about the state of his patients,--theprice of stocks,--the state of his own pulse, tongue, eyes, andlungs,--till he could endure himself no longer.

  "I must go and see my old friend Gambado; I know he is a clever man, andhas paid great attention to the nervous system, I must go and see him.He ordered his chariot, and drove to Bread-street; sent in his card,and was very soon shaking hands with his quondam friend Doctor Gambado.

  "Bull, I am glad to see you! You are not come to consult meprofessionally about yourself, I hope?"

  "I am, though, and about nobody else."

  "Then what's the matter with you?"

  "Dispeptic."

  "Is that all?" "No! Choleric?" "Is that all?" "No." "What is the matter?out with it."

  "To tell you the truth, Geoffery, I hardly know how to describe myselfto 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. Younever hated your profession, as I do mine. You never felt that youkilled a great many more than you cured! You never loathed the sight ofyour wife and children, your house, servants, food, bed, board andlodging. In short, I am a regular monster to myself, and shall soon begood 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 donow,--I can therefore make allowances for you. I tell you, no one everappears so bad to any man, as the afflicted man does to himself. Hewould soon be better if he could once see others worse than himself, oras bad as himself, and wish, heartily wish, to see them cured. I tellyou, 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, Iwill cure you for nothing. I do not say, with nothing.--No. Will youfollow 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 allthose morbid secretions went away from my brain, and I became as I am, acheerful and happy man."

  "But how shall I manage? I must begin _de novo_. I must learn, and Imust 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; andI dare not ride one with a spur."

  "My dear fellow, I have a friend who served me with a horse just as Iwanted it; and I have no doubt he can serve you just as well. I willwrite 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. Yours, faithfully,--GEOFFERY GAMBADO." "Mr. John Tattsall."

  Now the celebrated Doctor Bull had as good a pair of carriage horses asany Squire Bull in England. Tatt. certainly mounted him on one "that hecould not" _make the least of_. He was quiet enough, stiff enough, slowenough, steady enough; he did not mind the whip, for the Doctor mightcut him over the head, neck, ears, and under the flank, and anywhere,and everywhere else; but the beast had no animation. The more hepunished him, he only went the surest way to show to the world, _How tomake the least of a horse_.

  A few days after his _horse exercise_, he called on his friend DoctorGambado, and said, "Doctor, I am certainly better; but I believe Ishould
have been quite as well, if I had mounted a saddler's woodenhorse, and tried to make him go, as I am in trying to make your friendTattsall's horse go. I could not have believed it possible that anybeast could bear without motion such a dose of whip-cord as I haveadministered 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 gentlyeven 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 greatpoint. I have no doubt, none in the world, that if you could mountMaster Johnny's rocking-horse, and would do so, and have a good game ofromps with your boy, it would do you as much good as showing to theworld _how to make the least of a horse_, by kicking, flogging, checkinghis rein, and trying to persuade him to go on.

  "But if you will only walk down with me to John Tattsall's stables, Ihave no doubt you will quickly learn a lesson of equestrian managementthat shall soon set you right with the public, and most especially withyourself. 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 soonshow you _how to make the most of a horse_, then do not pay him eitherfor his horse or for his pains; but set all down to my account. Beseated, my dear fellow, whilst I send your horse back with a note. TheDoctor 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.

  Ever yours,--GEOFFERY GAMBADO." "Mr. John Tattsall."

  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 wendingtheir way arm-in-arm to the celebrated _Livery Stables_ of JohnTattsall, whither we will follow them, just to see if we can behold acontrast.

  Far we need not go, to see What makes a contrariety.