"And Winniferd, my wife," he'd say, and stop right there, and cle'r His th'oat, and go on thinkin' way _some_ mother-hearts down here Can't never feel _their own_ babe's face a-pressin' 'em, ner make Their naked breasts a restin'-place fer any baby's sake. XLVII Doc's _Li_b'ry--as he calls it,--well, they's ha'f-a-dozen she'ves Jam-full o' books--I couldn't tell _how_ many--count yourse'ves! _One whole she'f's_ Works on Medicine! and most the rest's about First Settlement, and Indians in here,--'fore we driv 'em out.-- XLVIII And Plutarch's Lives--and life also o' Dan'el Boone, and this- Here Mungo Park, and Adam Poe-- jes all the _lives_ they is! And Doc's got all the _novels_ out,-- by Scott and Dickison And Cooper.--And, I make no doubt, he's read 'em ever' one! [Illustration: Doc's Lib'ry] XLIX Onc't, in his office, settin' there, with crowd o' eight er nine Old neighbers with the time to spare, and Doc a-feelin' fine, A man rid up from Rollins, jes fer Doc to write him out Some blame p'scription--done, I guess, in minute, nigh about.-- [Illustration] L And _I_ says, "Doc, you 'pear so spry, jes write me that recei't You have fer bein' _happy_ by,-- fer that 'u'd shorely beat Your _medicine_!" says I.--And quick as _s'cat!_ Doc turned and writ And handed me: "Go he'p the sick, and putt your heart in it." LI And then, "A-talkin' furder 'bout that line o' thought," says he, "Ef we'll jes do the work cut out and give' to you and me, We'll lack no joy, ner appetite, ner all we'd ort to eat, And sleep like childern ever' night-- as puore and ca'm and sweet." LII Doc _has_ bin 'cused o' _offishness_ and lack o' talkin' free And extry friendly; but he says, "I'm _'feard_ o' talk," says he,-- "I've got," he says, "a natchurl turn fer talkin' fit to kill.-- The best and hardest thing to learn is trick o' keepin' still." LIII Doc _kin_ smoke, and I s'pose he _might_ drink licker--jes fer fun. He says, "_You_ smoke, _you_ drink all right; but _I_ don't--neether one"-- Says, "I _like_ whiskey--'good old rye'-- but like it in its place, Like that-air warter in your eye, er nose there on your face." LIV Doc's bound to have his joke! The day he got that off on me I jes had sold a load o' hay at "Scofield's Livery," And tolled Doc in the shed they kep' the hears't in, where I'd hid The stuff 'at got me "out o' step," as Sifers said it did. LV