THE Captain was a man of about forty-five
years of age, of good natural sense, and considerable
reading; but in some things whimsical, owing
perhaps to his greater knowledge of books than of
the world; but, in some degree, also, to his having
never married, being what they call an old batchelor,
a characteristic of which is, usually, singularity
and whim. He had the advantage of having had in
early life, an academic education; but having never
applied himself to any of the learned professions, he
had lived the greater part of his life on a small farm,
which he cultivated with servants or hired hands, as
he could conveniently supply himself with either.
The servant that he had at this time, was an Irishman,
whose name was Teague Oregan. I shall say
nothing of the character of this man, because the
very name imports what he was.

A strange idea came into the head of the Captain
about this time; for, by the bye, I had forgot to mention
that having been chosen captain of a company
of militia in the neighbourhood, he had gone by the
name of Captain ever since; for the rule is, once a
captain, and always a captain; but, as I was observing,
the idea had come into his head, to saddle an

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old horse that he had, and ride about the world a
little, with his man Teague at his heels, to see how
things were going on here and there, and to observe
human nature. For it is a mistake to suppose, that
a man cannot learn man by reading him in a corner,
as well as on the widest space of transaction. At
any rate, it may yield amusement.

It was about a score of miles from his own house,
that he fell in with what we call Races. The jockeys
seeing him advance, with Teague by his side, whom
they took for his groom, conceived him to be some
person who had brought his horse to enter for the
purse. Coming up and accosting him, said they,
You seem to be for the races, Sir; and have a horse
to enter. Not at all, said the Captain; this is but a
common palfrey, and by no means remarkable for
speed or bottom; he is a common plough horse
which I have used on my farm for several years, and
can scarce go beyond a trot; much less match himself
with your blooded horses that are going to take
the field on this occasion.

The jockeys were of opinion, from the speech,
that the horse was what they call a bite, and that
under the appearance of leanness and stiffness, there
was concealed some hidden quality of swiftness uncommon.
For they had heard of instances, where
the most knowing had been taken in by mean looking
horses; so that having laid two, or more, to one,
they were nevertheless bit by the bet; and the mean
looking nags, proved to be horses of a more than
common speed and bottom. So that there is no
trusting appearances. Such was the reasoning of
the jockeys. For they could have no idea, that a
man could come there in so singular a manner, with
a groom at his foot, unless he had some great object
of making money by the adventure. Under this

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idea, they began to interrogate him with respect to
the blood and pedigree of his horse: whether he was
of the Dove, or the Bay mare that took the purse;
and was imported by such a one at such a time? whether
his sire was Tamerlane or Bajazet?

The Captain was irritated at the questions, and
could not avoid answering.....Gentlemen, said he, it
is a strange thing that you should suppose that it is
of any consequence what may be the pedigree of a
horse. For even in men it is of no avail. Do we
not find that sages have had blockheads for their
sons; and that blockheads have had sages? It is remarkable,
that as estates have seldom lasted three
generations, so understanding and ability have seldom
been transmitted to the second. There never
was a greater man, take him as an orator and philosopher,
than Cicero: and never was there a person
who had greater opportunities than his son Marcus;
and yet he proved of no account or reputation.....
This is an old instance, but there are a thousand
others. Chesterfield and his son are mentioned. It
is true, Philip and Alexander may be said to be exceptions:
Philip of the strongest possible mind; capable
of almost every thing we can conceive; the
deepest policy and the most determined valour; his
son Alexander not deficient in the first, and before
him in the last; if it is possible to be before a man than
whom you can suppose nothing greater. It is possible,
in modern times, that Tippo Saib may be equal to his
father Hyder Ali. Some talk of the two Pitts. I have
no idea that the son is, in any respect, equal to old Sir
William. The one is a laboured artificial minister: the
other spoke with the thunder, and acted with lightning
of the gods. I will venture to say, that when
the present John Adams, and Lee, and Jefferson, and
Jay, and Henry, and other great men, who appear

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upon the stage at this time, have gone to sleep with
their fathers, it is an hundred to one if there is any
of their descendants who can fill their places. Was
I to lay a bet for a great man, I would sooner pick
up the brat of a tinker, than go into the great houses
to chuse a piece of stuff for a man of genius. Even
with respect to personal appearance, which is more
in the power of natural production, we do not see
that beauty always produces beauty; but on the contrary,
the homliest persons have oftentimes the best
favoured offspring; so that there is no rule or reason
in these things. With respect to this horse, therefore,
it can be of no moment whether he is blooded or
studed, or what he is. He is a good old horse, used
to the plough, and carries my weight very well; and
I have never yet made enquiry with respect to his
ancestor, or affronted him so much as to cast up to
him the defect of parentage. I bought him some years
ago from Neil Thomas, who had him from a colt.
As far as I can understand, he was of a brown mare
that John M`Neis had; but of what horse I know no
more than the horse himself. His gaits are good
enough, as to riding a short journey of seven or eight
miles; but he is rather a pacer than a trotter; and
though his bottom may be good enough in carrying
a bag to the mill, or going in the plough, or the sled,
or the harrow, &c. yet his wind is not so good, nor
his speed, as to be fit for the heats.

The jockeys thought the man a fool, and gave
themselves no more trouble about him.

The horses were now entered, and about to start
for the purse. There was Black and All-Black, and
Snip, John Duncan's Barbary Slim, and several
others. The riders had been weighed, and when
mounted, the word was given. It is needless to
describe a race; every body knows the circumstances

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of it. It is sufficient to say, that from the bets that
were laid, there was much anxiety, and some passion
in the minds of those concerned: So, that as
two of the horses, Black and All-Black, and Slim,
came out near together; there was dispute and confusion.
It came to kicking and cuffing in some
places. The Captain was a good deal hurt with such
indecency amongst gentlemen, and advancing, addressed
them in the following manner: Gentlemen,
this is an unequal and unfair proceeding. It is unbecoming
modern manners, or even the ancient.
For at the Olympic games of Greece, where were
celebrated horse and chariot races there was no such
hurry scurry as this; and in times of chivalry itself,
where men ate drank, and slept on horseback though
there was a great deal of pell-melling, yet no such
disorderly work as this. If men had a difference,
they couched their lances, and ran full tilt at one
another; but no such indecent expressions, as villain
scoundrel liar, ever came out of their mouths.
There was the most perfect courtesy in those days
of heroism and honour; and this your horse-racing,
which is a germ of the amusement of those times,
ought to be conducted on the same principles of
decorum and good breeding.

As he was speaking, he was jostled by some one
in the croud, and thrown from his horse; and had
it not been for Teague, who was at hand, and helped
him on again he would have suffered damage.
As it was, he received a contusion in his head of
which he complained much; and having left the race-ground,
and coming to a small cottage, he stopped a
little, to alight and dress the wound. An old woman
who was there, thought they ought to take a little of
his water, and see how it was with him; but the
Captain having no faith in telling disorders by the

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urine, thought proper to send for a surgeon who was
hard by, to examine the bruise, and apply bandages.
The surgeon attended, and examining the part, pronounced
it a contusion of the cerebrum. But as
there appeared but little laceration, and no fracture,
simple or compound, the pia mater could not be injured;
nor even could there be more than a slight
impression on the dura mater. So that trepaning
did not at all appear necessary. A most fortunate
circumstance; for a wound in the head, is of all
places the most dangerous; because there can be
no amputation to save life. There being but one
head to a man, and that being the residence of
the five senses, it is impossible to live without it.....
Nevertheless, as the present case was highly dangerous,
as it might lead to a subsultus tendinum, or
lock-jaw, it was necessary to apply cataplasms, in
order to reduce inflammation, and bring about a sanative
disposition of the parts. Perhaps it might
not be amiss, to take an anodyne as a refrigerant....
Many patients had been lost by the ignorance of
empirics prescribing bracers; whereas, in the first
stage of a contusion relaxing and antifebrile medicines
are proper. A little phlebotomy was no doubt
necessary, to prevent the bursting of the blood vessels.

The Captain hearing so many hard words, and
bad accounts of this case, was much alarmed. Nevertheless
he did not think it could be absolutely so
dangerous. For it seemed to him that he was not
sick at heart, or under any mortal pain. The surgeon
observed, that in this case he could not himself
be a judge. For the very part was affected by
which he was to judge, viz. the head; that it was no
uncommon thing for men in the extremest cases to
imagine themselves out of danger; whereas in

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reality, they were in the greatest possible; that notwithstanding
the symptoms were mild, yet from the
contusion, a mortification might ensue. Hypocrates,
who might be stiled an elementary physician,
and has a treatise on this very subject, is of opinion,
that the most dangerous symptom is a topical insensibility;
but among the moderns, Sydenham considers
it in another point of view, and thinks that
where there is no pain, there is as great reason to
suppose that there is no hurt, as that there is a mortal
one. Be this as it may, antiseptic medicines
might be very proper.

The Captain hearing so much jargon, and conscious
to himself that he was by no means in so
bad a state as this son of Esculapius would represent,
broke out into some passion. It is, said he, the
craft of your profession to make the case worse than
it is, in order to increase the perquisites. But if
there is any faith in you, make the same demand,
and let me know your real judgment. The surgeon
was irritated with his distrust, and took it into his
head to fix some apprehension in the mind of his
patient, if possible, that his case was not without
danger. Looking stedfastly at him for some time,
and feeling his pulse, there is, said he, an evident
delirium approaching. This argues an affection of
the brain, but it will be necessary, after some soporiferous
draughts, to put the patient to sleep. Said
the Captain, If you will give me about a pint of
whiskey and water, I will try to go to sleep myself.
A deleterious mixture, in this case said the surgeon,
cannot be proper; especially a distillation of that
quality. The Captain would hear no more; but requesting
the man of the cabin, to let him have the
spirits proposed, drank a pint or two of grog, and
having bound up his head with a handkerchief, went
to bed.

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