improved daily; and though he rode very awkwardly at first, holding on by the reins, and keeping his brow bent and his eye intent upon the Norway Cob's ears, his daily exercise did him a world of good; and before the week was out, he began to find himself a different creature. At the end of the week, he gave John Tattsall fifty guineas for the Cob; and a friendship, founded upon mutual accommodation, subsisted between them, to the day of their deaths.

So was a horse-dealer made an angel or messenger of health to the mournful spirit or unstrung nerves of Doctor Geoffery Gambado. He had the honesty to own it. The Doctor perfectly recovered his right mind and bodily health; and, like a wise man, who well knows that the same thing which does him good may do others the same, he took more patients to John Tattsall's livery stables than he ever sent to the sea side, to Madeira, to Buxton, or to Margate, Ramsgate, or any other gate whatsoever. John kept horses to suit all comers and all customers, and found Doctor Gambado the most grateful of all, because he always owned that, beneath a good Providence, he did him great good.

The Doctor's fame rapidly increased with the increase of his health. He soon became the very first Physician in nervous complaints. He knew the cause of nervous degeneracy,—no man better. He recommended Tattsall to all such patients as he found likely to be benefitted by him; and they were not a few. His letters, if they could be collected, would be found as direct to the point as the Wellington despatches.

CONTENTS

"John,—I want just such a horse as cured me, to cure an old fool like myself.

Gambado."

John, like a well-tutored chemist, understood the peculiar character of the Doctor's prescriptions, which, unlike a quack's, were generally written in a plain, legible hand, without any ad captandum humbug. John had horses from twenty-five to five-hundred guineas each.

But as the Doctor's fame increased, so, it might be truly said, the follies of "hypochondriacism" began to be exposed. People, and especially those of the Great Faculty, were jealous of the Doctor's reputation. It is always a sign of a little mind to be envious, or jealous of another man's celebrity. Take it for granted, when you hear a man speak slightingly of another, set that man down, whoever he is, for a conceited ass himself, or an ambitious, if not an envious and wretched man. Better speak nothing, than speak evil of another; 

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