CHAPTER X.
_The Tumbler, or its Affinities._
We cannot narrate all the varieties of patients the Doctor had to dealwith. We leave the ladies' cases out of the question, though he stronglyrecommended to them his great receipt--a ride on horseback.
Of all the difficult cases the Doctor had to deal with, was that of alittle stingy, dyspeptic, middle aged pin-man, retired from business,and resident in Pimlico.
He was never satisfied. No one could convince him that he was not a goodrider, though he had caused more broken-kneed horses in one month, thanany other rider had made in twelve months. He literally went by the nameof Tumble-down-Pincushion. It was no use furnishing him with a goodhorse; down it would come before long, and the little man would rollover like a pincushion; pick himself up, and declare it was the faultof the horse.
He would exasperate his Doctor, and his Doctor's friend, by pretendingto show them how a man ought to sit on horseback; and truly, if everthere was a contrast visible, it was in the upright figure of JohnTattsall on horseback, and Mr. Jeremiah Hinchman, the retired pin-man ofPimlico. John always knew how to make the most of a horse. Mr. Hinchmannever did make any thing but the least of himself and of his horse also.There was a strange affinity between his horse and himself,--at least,between him and one, a favourite rat-tailed sorrel gray. If it tumbleddown, it was never disturbed: it was so accustomed to the affinity withthe ground, that its knees became hardened with a species of horneyexcrescence, that seldom showed any thing but dirt, if it did tumble.Nor did the little man either, for having a remarkably light weight inthe saddle, and a prominent disposition to bend over his horse's neck,he generally cast a very light summersault in his exit from the seat tothe ground.
"I wish," he said one day to Mr. Tattsall, in no very amiable mood, "Iwish you would put me in some way of not falling off thetumble-down-horses which you sent me."
"Sir," said Tattsall, "I would not let you ride a horse of mine, tillyou had paid for it as your own, or paid me the price of it, by way ofinsurance against the surety of his being a tumbler in your hands. Yousay you are suited with a very quiet tumbler, and one that takes it easywhen he is down. You want yourself to be made to take it as easy as yourhorse; and, now, sir, to prove my readiness to serve you as a customer,and to serve you well too, I will put you into a way of having suchaffinity with your horse, that you shall tumble off no more."
"If you do," said Mr. Hinchman, "I will forgive you for having sent metwenty horses, not one of which could keep its legs, or keep me on hisback."
John was not easily puzzled.
"Sir," said he, "you must manage the thing your own self. Only just hearmy proposed plan. Let an incision be made in two places upon each flapof the saddle; let a thong pass under the saddle-flap, and tie ityourself over your knee. You will then never fall off; but be enabled tokeep your seat until your horse shall rise again with ease, and you thusprove the truth of the motto
The Tumbler, or its Affinities.
Affinity is defined by Johnson, to be relation by marriage, as opposedto consanguinity,--by others, as relation or agreeableness betweenthings. No one could think of Mr. Hinchman being of the sameconsanguinity as his horse Tumbler, but as a relation of agreeablenessbetween two things, in this latter, the tumbler had his affinity withhis master.
Thus they kept the road together, Whether fine or foul the weather; And when they tumbled, both went down; And when they rose, they both went on. So on they went, and all men's eyes Saw Tumblers with Affinities.