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.

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 Cassock, 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-class 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 circumstances,—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 passed 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 passed 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 her's,—and they were as happy a couple as could well be seen or known upon the face of the earth.

In his time, God'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 God'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 noblest 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 God; 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 Cassock, who used to drop in with any new number of the Spectator, and enjoy it. The domestic evenings spent in classical 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.

Transcriber's Notes: The original publication did not contain a table of contents. This has been provided for the reader's convenience. There were a few printer's errors which have been corrected. For example, Chapter XIII was entitled "A Daisey Cutter, with his Varieties" whereas the name was spelt Daisy in the text.