Doctor Gambado had to go from London to York, and to visit no less a person than one of the greatest ecclesiastical dignitaries of the land, as the following letter will show.

"Sir,—Doctor Greathead is desirous of consulting you, as speedily as possible; and if you have an eminent veterinary surgeon, who can accompany you, the Doctor will pay all expenses, as he has a favourite horse very ill. Travel post, if you please.

I am sir, your humble servant,

Characteristic of simplicity was the Doctor's letter, that very instant, to John Tattsall, written on a scrap and sent by his own servant.

"John,—Will you be ready to start for York in an hour?

John's reply was more laconic.

"Yes.

In one hour see this loving couple off for York. Each confiding in the other's integrity, they each took plenty of money with them. At that time, travelling by post or by coach was no joke. In a general way, from London to York was a four days' journey; but now, four hours will do great things.

We are not going to bother our readers with a description of all the adventures of these worthies on their way. How many times they were upset. How many times the post boy's horse fell down. How many spokes, fellies, or hobs, were splintered. Let it suffice that, with two such resolute men inside, who were never at a loss for contrivances under the very worst circumstances, they were sure to get safely through the journey.

Had the reader seen the blunderbuss,—yes, the bell-mouthed brass blunderbuss,—with a strange springing bayonet at the muzzle, the moment it was discharged, and this placed in the fore front of the carriage, directly opposite the sword case behind, he would indeed have said the Doctor was well provided against any robbers of the Yorkshire Ridings.

John, too, had a brace of pistols under his belt. They had no occasion, however to use them. They were conspicuous enough to every post-boy, waiter, and stable-keeper. Whether that kept them from an attack, we know not; but they were not attacked, and arrived safely at the then celebrated Precincts, close to the Cathedral.

They found the great Doctor Greathead, seated in an invalid chair, about four o'clock in the afternoon. His first words of salutation were those of hospitality.

"Gentlemen, have you had any refreshment after your journey?"

Doctor Gambado declared they had only just stept out of the carriage.

"Before I converse with the gentlemen, show them into the refectory. I will be prepared, half an hour hence, for our consultation."

Glad was Doctor Gambado, to refresh his stomach after travel, and not less glad John Tattsall to partake of the great divine's hospitality.

They did ample justice to the good things set before them; and as neither of them had any favour to ask of this great man, but both had something to confer, they were in no fear of taking too much or too little.

The butler was very attentive, and asked if they had had any adventures upon the road. Of course he received a courteous reply. The Doctor inquired if there was any thing new in York. New York was then unknown; but York New Theatre was then the go all over the north. It was just finished in most exquisite style, and was in fact the lion of the north.

"You will have plenty to see, sir," said the butler, "if you never were at York before. Our Minster is the wonder of the world."

"But your master, he must be a wonder?"

Very few masters are wonders in their butler's eyes, though many a butler becomes a wonder in the service of his master.

"There is nothing very wonderful about my master, except his present indisposition; and I most sincerely hope that your visit may do him good."

The butler had great respect for Doctors, and for Doctors that had before them the title of Right Reverend, or His Grace, or My Lord, or The Venerable; and these or some of these, he was accustomed to see every day; but an M.D. F.R.S. was not often in his view. He had noted these letters upon Doctor Gambado's card. The other gentleman had no card, and, therefore, he concluded that he was the greater man.

The footman came in to announce that his master was ready to receive Doctor Gambado and his friend.

There was something formidable in entering the presence of so great a divine as Doctor Greathead; but they were not going in for an examination of themselves, but to examine.

"Now, my friends, I can talk to you. I did not like talking to starving men, lest they should be ready to eat me up; and you will say, they would have enough to do to do that. But there are no cannibals at York, or I might have been eaten up long ago. Still, I regret to say that I have a disease preying upon my vitals; and except you can prescribe a cure, Doctor, I am afraid it is all up with me."

"We can prescribe no cure, without understanding the nature of the complaint."

"But it is that which puzzles the faculty in York. They say I have no bodily complaint; that it is all upon the nerves; and therefore it is, that in applying to my friend, Doctor Turnbull, to know if he knew any physician in London celebrated for his knowledge of the treatment of nervous cases, he mentioned you as the author of a book upon the nervous system; and I desired my secretary to write to you. You have well done to come to us, and we hope to receive benefit from your advice."

"I am obliged to Doctor Turnbull, for the mention of my name; but I must make some inquiries about your bodily health?"

"How is your appetite?" "Good."

"How is your sleep?" "Good."

"How is your sight?" "Good."

"How is your pulse?" "Try it."

"What do you say yourself?" "It is good."

"Have you any fever?" "None."

"Have you any particular pain?" "No."

"Do you walk much?" "No."

"Do you ride much?"

"I can ride no longer; and I fear this is one of the painful causes of my strange distemper."

"Are you accustomed to horseback exercise?"

"Constant: I used to ride on the Carlisle road every day, till about a month since, and now I never ride."

"Why not?"

"I have lost the fancy or taste for it, and somehow I care no longer about it."

"Ah! that's bad! That's bad of itself. You met with no accident, to give your nervous system a shock, did you?"

"None whatever, except that my favourite old horse could go no longer, and I no longer felt inclined to go."

"But there are other horses that might be had equally as good."

"None, sir, None! I do not believe there is another horse in England that could carry me, like my old gray."

"If Yorkshire cannot suit you, I know no other county in the kingdom likely to do so. Surely, Doctor Greathead, you must be deceived in this respect?"

"Deceived or not, Doctor Gambado, I am not deceived in saying this, that I will ride no other horse; and, in fact, I would rather ride that horse on three legs, if he could be made to go upon them, then any other horse upon four."

Great men as well as little men have singular crotchets in their heads sometimes; and if these crotchets cannot be altered, they will go on in such a monotonous tone that they never get out of it. The Doctor was a learned scholar, and a very good divine; but his favourite horse was as dear to him as a lady's favourite cat or cap could be to her.

He had rode the same horse ten years, and had got so attached to him, that when that horse was seized with a lameness in the off hind leg, and could no longer stand or go upon it, the Doctor's sympathies increased with his favourite, though he was no longer any use to him. Like his master, the animal fed well, and could sleep well, but he could not go.

"Have you seen my horse?"

"I came to see yourself first, Doctor, and I can have no objection to go and see your horse, in company with my friend Mr. John Tattsall, who I should say knows more of a horse than any man living; and can make a horse go, I verily believe, on three legs."

The very idea gave animation to Doctor Greathead's features.

"I will walk with you to the stables."

He rang the bell, ordered his hat, gloves, and even his riding whip, so precocious was the idea that the Doctor had conceived of being able to mount once more his favourite gray.

The horse was led out, and came out upon three legs; the other evidently of no use to him. In fact he could not put it to the ground.

John examined the sturdy old fellow, who had a small head and stout legs; he pronounced him to be afflicted with an incurable disease in the coffin-bone, and said he never could go upon that leg. He looked at all the other limbs, and pronounced them all right.

"A fine old horse, your Reverence; a fine old horse, fit to carry your worship's weight; but he never will go again upon all fours."

"Can he ever be made to go upon three?"

"I see no reason to doubt it. The disabled limb is only such from the fetlock to the hoof; if the joint could be supported from the hock to the fetlock, and pressure be produced so as to keep that leg up to his body, without any weight falling upon the tendons of the foot, I see no reason why the horse should not canter upon three legs,—I do not say with the same ease as he would upon four sound ones; but certainly easier far than he could upon the four as they now are."

"You are a sensible man, sir, and what you say seems feasible. What would you suggest?"

"Let one of your grooms go and get a Yorkshire weaver's strap that will go once round the animal's body, and at the same time catch up the animal's leg,—and fasten it with a stout Birmingham buckle, so that the power shall be exerted in the leg bone without the fetlock or the foot; and I think your Reverence will be able to show to all the world how to ride a horse on three legs."

"Good! good! Let it be done immediately: I verily believe it can be done."

It literally was done, and in one hour Doctor Greathead showed that he himself was alive again. He mounted his favourite gray; and though the animal laid its ears, and lifted up its hind quarters, rather higher than usual, it went; and did perform what the Doctor never expected it to do again—namely, carried him a mile on the Carlisle road, and that without a fall.

It did the Doctor good whenever he did ride it. How often that was, we have no record to tell us.

He paid the Doctor of Medicine and his friend John Tattsall more than would have purchased three fine Yorkshire horses. In fact he paid for his whim.

He was cured of his whim.

And Doctor Gambado and his friend John returned to town satisfied.