The _Grub Street Journal_ of that period said, "The remarkable cures of the woman bone-setter, Mrs. Mapp, are too numerous to enumerate. Her bandages are extraordinarily neat, and her dexterity in reducing dislocations and fractures most wonderful. She has cured persons who have been twenty years disabled." Her patients were both male and female. Some of her most difficult operations were performed before physicians of eminence. Her carriage was splendid, on the panels of which were emblazoned her coat of arms. Regularly every week she visited London in this magnificent chariot drawn by four superb, cream-white horses, attended by servants, arrayed in gorgeous liveries. She put up at the Grecian Coffee-House, and forthwith her rooms would be thronged by invalids. Notices of her were not always of the most complimentary sort. Being one day detained by a cart of coal that was unloading in a narrow street of the metropolis, on which occasion she was arrayed in a loosely fitting robe-de-chambre, with large flowing sleeves, which set off her massive proportion most conspicuously, she let down the windows of her carriage, and leaning her bare arms upon the door, she impatiently exclaimed,-- "Fellow, how dare you detain a lady of rank thus?" "A lady of rank!" sneered the coal-man. "Yes, you villain!" screamed the enraged doctress. "Don't you observe the arms of Mrs. Mapp on the carriage?" [Illustration: "DON'T YOU OBSERVE THE ARMS OF MRS. MAPP?"] "Yes--I _do_ see the arms," replied the impudent fellow, "and a pair of durned coarse ones they are, to be sure." On another occasion she was riding up Old Kent Road, dressed as above described. "Her obesity, immodest attire, intoxication, and dazzling equipage were, in the eyes of the mob, so sure signs of royalty, that she was taken for a court lady, of German origin, and of unpopular repute. The crowd gathered about her carriage, and with oaths and yells were about to demolish the windows with clubs and stones, when the nowise alarmed occupant, like Nellie Gwynn, on a similar occasion, rose in her seat, and, with imprecations more emphatic than polite, exclaimed,-- "---- you! Don't you know who I am? I am Mrs. Sally Mapp, the celebrated bone-setter of Epsom!" "This brief address so tickled the humor of the rabble that the lady was permitted to proceed on her way, amid deafening acclamations and laughter." This famous woman's career may be likened to a rocket. She flashed before the people as suddenly, ascended as brilliantly to the zenith of fame, and fell like the burned, blackened stick. Mrs. Mapp spent her last days in poverty, wretchedness, and obscurity, at "Seven Dials," where she died almost unattended, on the night of December 22, 1737. Her demise was thus briefly announced in the journals:-- "Died at her lodgings, near Seven Dials, last week, Mrs. Mapp, the once much-talked-of bone-setter of Epsom, so wretchedly poor that the parish was obliged to bury her."