Time Sister Abbick tuk so bad with striffen o' the lung, P'tracted Meetin', where she had jes shouted, prayed and sung All winter long, through snow and thaw,-- when Sifers come, says he: "No, M'lissy; don't poke out your raw and cloven tongue at me!-- XXIX "I know, without no symptoms but them _injarubber-shoes_ You promised me to never putt a fool-foot in ner use At purril o' your life!" he said. "And I won't save you _now_, Onless--here on your dyin' bed-- you consecrate your vow!" XXX Without a-claimin' _any creed_, Doc's rail religious views Nobody knows--ner got no _need_ o' knowin' whilse he choose To be heerd not of man, ner raise no loud, vainglorious prayers In crowded marts, er public ways, er--i jucks, _any_wheres!-- [Illustration] XXXI 'Less 'n it _is_ away deep down in his own heart, at night, Facin' the storm, when all the town 's a-sleepin' snug and tight-- Him splashin' hence from scenes o' pride and sloth and gilded show, To some pore sufferer's bedside o' anguish, don't you know! XXXII Er maybe dead o' _winter_--makes no odds to _Doc_,--he's got To face the weather ef it takes the hide off! 'cause he'll not _Lie_ out o' goin' and p'tend he's sick hisse'f--like _some_ 'At I could name 'at folks might send fer and they'd _never_ come! [Illustration] XXXIII Like pore Phin Hoover--when he goes to that last dance o' his! That Chris'mus when his feet wuz froze-- and Doc saved all they is Left of 'em--"'Nough," as Phin say now, "to _track_ me by, and be A adver_tise_ment, anyhow, o' what Doc's done fer me!-- XXXIV "When _he_ come--knife-and-saw"--Phin say, "I knowed, ef I'd the spunk, 'At Doc 'ud fix me up _some_ way, ef nothin' but my _trunk_ Wuz left, he'd fasten _casters_ in, and have me, spick-and-span, A-skootin' round the streets ag'in as spry as any man!" XXXV Doc sees a patient's _got_ to quit-- he'll ease him down serene As dozin' off to sleep, and yit not dope him with mor-_pheen_.-- He won't tell _what_--jes 'lows 'at he has "airn't the right to sing 'O grave, where is thy victery! O death, where is thy sting!'" XXXVI And, mind ye now!--it's not in scoff and scorn, by long degree, 'At Doc gits things like that-un off: it's jes his _shority_ And total faith in Life to Come,-- w'y, "from that _Land o' Bliss_," He says, "we'll haf to chuckle some, a-lookin' back at this!" [Illustration] [Illustration] XXXVII