CHAPTER IX.
_How to make a Mare go._
"Money makes the mare to go," is a very old proverb. Very few men haveread the original poem upon this subject, except they have met with avery old volume of Crashaw's Poems.
"Will thou lend me thy mare to go a mile? No, she is lame, leaping over a stile. But if thou wilt her to me spare, I'll give thee money for thy mare. Ho! ho! say ye so? Money makes the mare to go."
But one of the Doctor's patients was an old active fishmonger, of thename of Sturgeon; one well to do indeed in his line, a hundred yearsago. There are a great many who now supply the London market, withoutany of that hard road work from Greenwich to Billingsgate. Now trainsrun to and fro, and fish are alive in London from the smacks. But it wassmack and go, then, with carts every morning, one after the other insuccession, loaded almost top heavy. Then there was unpacking, packingand off for the coaches, Times, Phenomena, Telegraph, Exeter Mail,Yorkshire Old Blue, and a host of others, to supply provincialfishmongers, &c. and great houses in the country.
But Mr. Sturgeon had, by command of his surgeon, to drive no longer. ButDoctor Gambado insisted upon it, that he must ride on horseback. Now Mr.Sturgeon had a very favourite mare, which could trot well in harness;but could not be persuaded into any but a slow pace, if any one rode onher back.
"What would I not give," he said to the Doctor, "if she could be made togo."
"Well," said the Doctor, "money makes the mare to go; and I have nodoubt old John Tattsall, who was never yet at a loss what to do withhorseflesh, would soon put you into the way of making your mare to go."
"What! with me on her back?"
"Oh, yes! and another besides, if wanted."
John was duly consulted.
"Well, Mr. Sturgeon, I see no difficulty in the matter. It requires onlya little courage on your part, and I am sure you will find it answeryou purpose well. You have nothing to do, but exercise a littleingenuity in your own line. When you are next at Greenwich, just take agood strong lobster, with a pair of tremendous claws; fasten him by thetail to the inside of your fishmonger's coat, and let his head andclinchers hang out against the mare's flank. Sit you firm in the saddle,with your feet well out of the black pincher's way. One gripe, and themare will go like a shot; nor will she stop to let you pick up your hatand wig; but wherever her stable is in town, you will see she will neverstop till she reaches it."
The trial was made, and
Away went Sturgeon, like a shot,-- Away, away! The mare could trot; And so she did,--nor did she pause.-- John Tattsall gained the world's applause; For one sharp bite upon the side, And such a gripe of hair and hide, The monster held within his claw, That Sturgeon scarce could hold her jaw. With head uplift, and leg up high, The mare, like swallow, seemed to fly, And soon, from Sturgeon's round bald pate, The wig and hat flew o'er the gate; But on rode Sturgeon, made to know How well to make a mare to go.