“Beneath a shady chestnut tree The village blacksmith stands. The smith, a pleasant soul is he With warts upon his hands--” He stares at Hank hard and solemn and serious while he is saying that poetry at him. Hank fidgets and turns his eyes away. But the feller touches him on the breast with his finger, and makes him look at him. “My honest friend,” says the feller, “I am _not_ a preacher. Not right now, anyhow. No! My mission is spreading the glad tidings of good health. Look at me,” and he swells his chest up, and keeps a-holt of Hank's eyes with his'n. “You behold before you the discoverer, manufacturer, and proprietor of Siwash Indian Sagraw, nature's own remedy for Bright's Disease, rheumatism, liver and kidney trouble, catarrh, consumption, bronchitis, ring-worm, erysipelas, lung fever, typhoid, croup, dandruff, stomach trouble, dyspepsia--” And they was a lot more of 'em. “Well,” says Hank, sort o' backing up as the big man come nearer and nearer to him, jest natcherally bully-ragging him with them eyes, “I got none of them there complaints.” The doctor he kind o' snarls, and he brings his hand down hard on Hank's shoulder, and he says: “There are more things betwixt Dan and Beersheba than was ever dreamt of in thy sagacity, Romeo!” Or they was words to that effect, fur that doctor was jest plumb full of Scripter quotations. And he sings out sudden, giving Hank a shove that nearly pushes him over: “Man alive!” he yells, “you _don't know_ what disease you may have! Many's the strong man I've seen rejoicing in his strength at the dawn of day cut down like the grass in the field before sunset,” he says. Hank, he's trying to look the other way, but that doctor won't let his eyes wiggle away from his'n. He says very sharp: “Stick out your tongue!” [Illustration: 0061] Hank, he sticks her out. The doctor, he takes some glasses out'n his pocket and puts 'em on, and he fetches a long look at her. Then he opens his mouth like he was going to say something, and shuts it agin like his feelings won't let him. He puts his arm across Hank's shoulder affectionate and sad, and then he turns his head away like they was some one dead in the fambly. Finally, he says: “I thought so. I saw it. I saw it in your eyes when I first drove up. I hope,” he says, very mournful, “I haven't come too late!” Hank, he turns pale. I was getting sorry fur Hank myself. I seen now why I licked him so easy. Any one could of told from that doctor's actions Hank was as good as a dead man already. But Hank, he makes a big effort, and he says: “Shucks! I'm sixty-eight years old, doctor, and I hain't never had a sick day in my life.” But he was awful uneasy too. The doctor, he says to the feller with him: “Looey, bring me one of the sample size.” Looey brung it, the doctor never taking his eyes off'n Hank. He handed it to Hank, and he says: