his coming. After it was over and the old times were fully discussed he
was about to take his leave when Mrs. Weeks disappeared from the room
and then returned, bearing upon her arm a beautiful yarn spread which
she held out before her and, in her nervous, feeble way getting the
attention of the little audience, said:

"Doctor, I am going up to Whitley now to live with my daughter, and I
don't suppose I will get to see you very often any more. Like myself,
you are getting old, and it will be too far for you to come. But I want
to give you this spread that I have woven with my own hands since I have
been sixty years of age. It isn't very much, but it is meant for a token
of the love and esteem I bear you, and in remembrance of all that you
have done for me and mine."

Her eyes were wet and her voice quivering as she brought it forward. The
doctor, who had been wholly taken by surprise by this kindly
manifestation of regard, had arisen during her impromptu address and now
stood before her, dignified and emotionally grave, his own eyes wet with
tears of appreciation.

Balancing the homely gift upon his extended hands, he waited until the
force of his own sentiment had slightly subsided, when he replied:

"Madam, I appreciate this gift with which you have chosen to remember me
as much as I honor the sentiment which has produced it. There are, I
know, threads of feeling woven into it stronger than any cords of wool,
and more enduring than all the fabrics of this world. I have been your
physician now for fifty years, and have been a witness of your joys and
sorrows. But, as much as I esteem you, and as highly as I prize this
token of your regard, I can accept it but upon one condition, and that
is, Mrs. Weeks, that you promise me that no matter how dark the night,
how stormy the sky, or how deep the waters that intervene, you will not
fail to send for me in your hour of need. It is both my privilege and my
pleasure, and I should not rest content unless I knew it were so."

When the old lady had promised, he took his spread and going out to his
horse, rode away to his own home, where he related this incident, and
ended with, "Now I want this put on my bed."

His daughter, who lovingly humored his every whim, immediately complied
with his wish, and from that day to the hour of his death the spread was
never out of his service.

One of the most pleasing incidents to me was one which related to his
last illness and death.