Inspiring the thought when nature’s the theme, Uplifting one’s soul to the world of bliss, Where painters and angels will ever beam With love and kindness on the poets of this. A DOCTOR’S ADVICE. “_Just Think of Something Else._” In the summer of 1898 I was taken quite sick at a hotel over two hundred miles from home, and was confined to my room for five days. On complaining to the doctor that I was not getting well fast, he said I should not worry about my sickness, but “Just think of something else.” I took his advice and the same night wrote the following verses. When sickness comes and joy departs, And you are forced to lie in bed, Don’t fret about the aching parts, Remember what the doctor said, “Just think of something else.” No matter if the pain is great, And racks you thru from foot to head, Be patient still and meekly wait, Remember what the doctor said, “Just think of something else.” When medicine has failed to act, And you can’t see much hope ahead, Why just ignore the trifling fact, Remember what the doctor said-- “Just think of something else.” What matter if you’re far from home, And no kind friend is near your bed, Let all your thoughts most freely roam, Remember what the doctor said, “Just think of something else.” Don’t mind your great debility, Nor count the pains that fill your head, The sick must show humility, Remember what the doctor said, “Just think of something else.” And when your friend presents his bills, In language kind and manners suave, Give him a dose of his own pills, Remember that advice he gave, “Just think of something else.” Ah, no! my friend that will not do, The doctor kind deserves his pay, The honest course is best for you, No matter what the doctors say, Don’t think of something else. HERE I AM. A little grand-daughter wrote me a little letter and in it she said, “If I were a little flower, this I would do: I would be happy all the day.” Under these words she made a sketch of a bush bearing flowers, and wrote beneath the sketch, “Here I am.” I replied as follows: To the sweet little flower, “Here I am,” formerly Miss Rose. Caterpillars change into butterflies, And eggs into birds that fly in the skies; But I did not know a child had power, To change her body into a flower. But what need I care since flower and child, Grown in the city, or on mountain wild, Both receive from me the tenderest care, I find a flower and a child is there. --GRANDPA. A CHRISTMAS TURKEY. Lines sent with a large fat turkey to a friend for Christmas, 1862.