And, still in p'int, I mind, one _night o' 'nitiation_ at Some secert lodge, 'at Doc set right down on 'em, square and flat, When they mixed up some Scriptur' and wuz _funnin'_-like--w'y, he Lit in 'em with a rep'imand 'at ripped 'em, A to Z! XXXVIII And onc't--when gineral loafin'-place wuz old Shoe-Shop--and all The gang 'ud git in there and brace their backs ag'inst the wall And _settle_ questions that had went onsettled long enough,-- Like "wuz no Heav'n--ner no torment"-- _jes talkin' awful rough!_ [Illustration] XXXIX There wuz Sloke Haines and old Ike Knight and Coonrod Simmes--all three Ag'inst the Bible and the Light, and scoutin' Deity. "_Science_," says Ike, "it _dimonstrates_-- it takes nobody's word-- _Scriptur'_ er not,--it _'vestigates_ ef sich things could occurred!" XL Well, Doc he heerd this,--he'd drapped in a minute, fer to git A tore-off heel pegged on agin,-- and, as he stood on it And stomped and grinned, he says to Ike, "I s'pose now, purty soon Some lightnin'-bug, indignant-like, 'll ''vestigate' the moon!... XLI "No, Ike," says Doc, "this world hain't saw no brains like yourn and mine With sense enough to grasp a law 'at takes a brain divine.-- I've bared the thoughts of brains in doubt, and felt their finest pulse,-- And mortal brains jes won't turn out omnipotent results!" XLII And Doc he's got respects to spare the _rich_ as well as _pore_-- Says he, "I'd turn no _millionaire_ onsheltered from my door."-- Says he, "What's wealth to him in quest o' _honest_ friends to back And love him fer _hisse'f_?--not jes because he's made his jack!" [Illustration] [Illustration] XLIII And childern.--_Childern?_ Lawzy-day! Doc _worships_ 'em!--You call Round at his house and _ast_ 'em!-- they're a-_swarmin'_ there--that's all!-- They're in his _Li_b'ry--in best room-- in kitchen--fur and near,-- In office too, and, I p'sume, his operatin'-cheer! XLIV You know they's men 'at _bees_ won't sting?-- They's plaguey _few_,--but Doc He's one o' _them_.--And same, i jing! with _childern_;--they jes flock Round Sifers _natchurl_!--in his lap, and in his pockets, too, And in his old fur mitts and cap, and _heart_ as warm and true! XLV It's cur'ous, too,--'cause Doc hain't got no childern of his own-- 'Ceptin' the ones he's tuk and brought up, 'at's bin left alone. And orphans when their father died, er mother,--and Doc he Has he'pped their dyin' satisfied.-- "The child shall live with me [Illustration] [Illustration] XLVI