Doc hain't, to say, no "_rollin' stone_," and yit he hain't no hand Fer '_cumulatin_'.--_Home_'s his own, and scrap o' farmin'-land-- Enough to keep him out the way when folks is tuk down sick The suddentest--'most any day they want him 'special quick. [Illustration] LVI And yit Doc loves his practice; ner don't, wilful, want to slight No call--no matter who--how fur away--er day er night.-- He loves his work--he loves his friends-- June, Winter, Fall, and Spring: His _lovin'_--facts is--never ends; he loves jes _ever_'thing.... LVII 'Cept--_keepin' books_. He never sets down no accounts.--He hates, The worst of all, collectin' debts-- the worst, the more he waits.-- I've knowed him, when at last he _had_ to dun a man, to end By makin' him a loan--and mad he hadn't more to lend. LVIII When Pence's Drug Store ust to be in full blast, they wuz some Doc's patients got things frekantly there, charged to him, i gum!-- Doc run a bill there, don't you know, and allus when he squared, He never questioned nothin',--so he had his feelin's spared. LIX Now sich as that, I hold and claim, hain't _'scusable_--it's not _Perfessional!_--It's jes a shame 'at Doc hisse'f hain't got No better _business_-sense! That's why lots 'd respect him more, And not give him the clean go-by fer _other_ doctors. Shore! [Illustration] LX This-here Doc _Glenn_, fer instance; er this little jack-leg _Hall_;-- They're _business_--folks respects 'em fer their _business_ more 'n all They ever knowed, er ever _will_, 'bout _medicine_.--Yit they Collect their money, k-yore er kill.-- They're _business_, anyway! [Illustration] LXI You ast Jake Dunn;--he's worked it out in _figgers_.--He kin show _Stastistics_ how Doc's airnt about _three_ fortunes in a row,-- Ever' ten-year' hand-runnin' straight-- _three_ of 'em--_thirty_ year' 'At Jake kin count and 'lucidate o' Sifers' practice here. LXII Yit--"Praise the Lord," says Doc, "we've got our little home!" says he-- "(It's railly _Winniferd's_, but what she owns, she sheers with me.) We' got our little gyarden-spot, and peach- and apple-trees, And stable, too, and chicken-lot, and eighteen hive' o' bees." [Illustration] [Blank Page] LXIII _You_ call it anything you please, but it's _witchcraft_--the power 'At Sifers has o' handlin' bees!-- He'll watch 'em by the hour-- Mix right amongst 'em, mad and hot and swarmin'!--yit they won't Sting _him_, er _want_ to--_'pear_ to not,-- at least I know they _don't_. LXIV