peratin'-cheer!

XLIV

You know they's men 'at _bees_ won't sting?--
They's plaguey _few_,--but Doc
He's one o' _them_.--And same, i jing!
with _childern_;--they jes flock
Round Sifers _natchurl_!--in his lap,
and in his pockets, too,
And in his old fur mitts and cap,
and _heart_ as warm and true!

XLV

It's cur'ous, too,--'cause Doc
hain't got no childern of his own--
'Ceptin' the ones he's tuk
and brought up, 'at's bin left alone.
And orphans when their father died,
er mother,--and Doc he
Has he'pped their dyin' satisfied.--
"The child shall live with me

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

XLVI

"And Winniferd, my wife," he'd say,
and stop right there, and cle'r
His th'oat, and go on thinkin' way
_some_ mother-hearts down here
Can't never feel _their own_ babe's face
a-pressin' 'em, ner make
Their naked breasts a restin'-place
fer any baby's sake.

XLVII

Doc's _Li_b'ry--as he calls it,--well,
they's ha'f-a-dozen she'ves
Jam-full o' books--I couldn't tell
_how_ many--count yourse'ves!
_One whole she'f's_ Works on Medicine!
and most the rest's about
First Settlement, and Indians in
here,--'fore we driv 'em out.--

XLVIII

And Plutarch's Lives--and life also
o' Dan'el Boone, and this-
Here Mungo Park, and Adam Poe--
jes all the _lives_ they is!
And Doc's got all the _novels_ out,--
by Scott and Dickison
And Cooper.--And, I make no doubt,
he's read 'em ever' one!

[Illustration: Doc's Lib'ry]

XLIX

Onc't, in his office, settin' there,
with crowd o' eight er nine
Old neighbers with the time to spare,
and Doc a-feelin' fine,
A man rid up from Rollins, jes
fer Doc to write him out
Some blame p'scription--done, I guess,
in minute, nigh about.--

[Illustration]

L

And _I_ says, "Doc, you 'pear so spry,
jes write me that recei't
You have fer bein' _happy_ by,--
fer that 'u'd shorely beat
Your _medicine_!" says I.--And quick
as _s'cat!_ Doc turned and writ
And handed me: "Go he'p the sick,
and putt your heart in it."

LI

And then, "A-talkin' furder 'bout
that line o' thought," says he,
"Ef we'll jes do the work cut out