When a poor ruined fellow at his
elbow saw him win at a throw L200, and murmured 'How happy that would
make me!' Nash tossed the money to him, and said, 'Go and be happy
then.' Probably the witless beau did not see the delicate satire implied
in his speech. It was only the triumph of a gamester. On other occasions
he collected subscriptions for poor curates, and so forth, in the same
spirit, and did his best towards founding an hospital, which has since
proved of great value to those afflicted with rheumatic gout. In the
same spirit, though himself a gamester, he often attempted to win young
and inexperienced boys, who came to toss away their money at the rooms,
from seeking their own ruin; and, on the whole, there was some goodness
of heart in this gold-laced bear.
That he was a bear there are anecdotes enough to show, and whether true
or not, they sufficiently prove what the reputation of the man must have
been. Thus, when a lady, afflicted with a curvature of the spine, told
him that 'She had come _straight_ from London that day,' Nash replied
with utter heartlessness, 'Then, ma'am, you've been damnably warpt on
the road.' The lady had her revenge, however, for meeting the beau one
day in the Grove, as she toddled along with her dog, and being
impudently asked by him if she knew the name of Tobit's dog, she
answered quickly, 'Yes, sir, his name was Nash, and a most impudent dog
he was too.
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