CHAPTER VIII.

_How to ride without a Bridle._

"Doctor, what am I to do?" said Mr. Broadcloth, the wealthy tailor of

Bond-street. "Here am I, just fifty years of age, now in the prime of

life, and cannot enjoy a moment's content. I have forty-nine hands at

work for me, in my shop every day, beside piece-work out-doors. I have

six runners of errands; four porters, to carry out my goods, and to

bring me home work. Beside all this, I have such incessant customers to

be measured, and coats to make, that from morning to night I hear

nothing but snip go, snip go, snip go! and although I work like a

journeyman, I half wish I was one of my own porters, and could go from

house to house for fresh air and exercise."

"Oh, my dear sir!" said the Doctor, "you must ride on horseback,--you

must indeed! you must be a journey-man yourself,--carry out your

clothes to Clapham, and find yourself all the better in health and

spirits."

[Illustration]

"Doctor, I have heard that all who can do as you bid them, are sure to

recover."

"The first of all blessings is health,--for without it

Men may think there's enjoyment in life,--but I doubt it."

"Then recover yourself, and you will own my advice to be good."

"What shall I do for a horse?"

"Do as everybody else does,--go to John Tattsall's, and get the horse

that will suit you. I shall be glad to see you on one."

The tailor was soon mounted;--but it is one thing to be

mounted,--another to be seated.

He soon complained to Mr. Tattsall, that the horse he had bought of him

would not mind the bridle.

"Then," says John, "ride him without one. In fact, your horse did belong

to a lame letter-carrier, and he never rode him with a bridle. You may

have one round his neck by way of a check rein; but this horse, you will

find, will never deceive you.

"You have nothing to do but to mount, and say, 'Go on:' he will be off

in a gentle canter along the gutter, keeping close to the pavement,

avoiding the lamp posts, oyster stalls, orange tables, trucks, and

barrows; and whenever you say 'Wo-ho,' he will make a dead stop. You may

get off, and wait an hour, if you like, he will never stir, but will

know how to take care of himself; only give him a bit of carrot or an

apple, just to let him know you are his master, as the poor old lame

duck did,--and you may mount and say 'Go on,' and 'Wo-ho,' twenty times

in a day,--and he will obey you. You will not need a bridle or a rein."

Mr. Broadcloth did so,--and never complained of his horse after,--and

quite recovered of his complaint.

Go on!--wo-ho! Good words will all command,

And gentle treatment bring the steed to hand.

[Illustration]

Geoffery Gambado · 第 8 / 15 章