If it be certain, as Galen says, And sage Hippocrates holds as much-- ‘That those afflicted by doubts and dismays Are mightily helped by a dead man’s touch,’ Then, be good to us, stars above! Then, be good to us, herbs below! We are afflicted by what we can prove; We are distracted by what we know-- So--ah, so! Down from your Heaven or up from your mould, Send us the hearts of our fathers of old! SIMPLE SIMON The Thousandth Man One man in a thousand, Solomon says, Will stick more close than a brother. And it’s worth while seeking him half your days If you find him before the other. Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend on what the world sees in you, But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend With the whole round world agin you. ‘Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show Will settle the finding for ‘ee. Nine hundred and ninety-nine of ‘em go By your looks or your acts or your glory. But if he finds you and you find him, The rest of the world don’t matter; For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim With you in any water. You can use his purse with no more shame Than he uses yours for his spendings; And laugh and mention it just the same As though there had been no lendings. Nine hundred and ninety-nine of ‘em call For silver and gold in their dealings; But the Thousandth Man he’s worth ‘em all, Because you can show him your feelings! His wrong’s your wrong, and his right’s your right, In season or out of season. Stand up and back it in all men’s sight-- With that for your only reason! Nine hundred and ninety-nine can’t bide The shame or mocking or laughter, But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side To the gallows-foot--and after! Simple Simon Cattiwow came down the steep lane with his five-horse timber-tug. He stopped by the wood-lump at the back gate to take off the brakes. His real name was Brabon, but the first time the children met him, years and years ago, he told them he was ‘carting wood,’ and it sounded so exactly like ‘cattiwow’ that they never called him anything else. ‘HI!’ Una shouted from the top of the wood-lump, where they had been watching the lane. ‘What are you doing? Why weren’t we told?’ ‘They’ve just sent for me,’ Cattiwow answered. ‘There’s a middlin’ big log stacked in the dirt at Rabbit Shaw, and’--he flicked his whip back along the line--‘so they’ve sent for us all.’ Dan and Una threw themselves off the wood-lump almost under black Sailor’s nose. Cattiwow never let them ride the big beam that makes the body of the timber-tug, but they hung on behind while their teeth thuttered.