The Penn's Grove record., 1884-01-26

The village Doctor.
Piece by piece he learns every symp-
tom, every little particular of his pa.
TENTS last night and then, when the
conversation ceases and the wife goes
back quietly up the narrow back stairs
to make the children's little bed, the
old doctor sits and peels long curly
shayings off the yellow pine stick, soft.
ly huns a good old Methodist hymn,
and thinks what he should do next for
his sick man.
Half the forenoon is gone when the
good wife comes to the door and says,
in the same old subdued tone to which
she has |habituated herself F; " Doctor,
he's awake now" The old doctor
slowly lifts himself, unkinks his stiffen-
ened joints, kicks his legs out to straight
en- down his trousers, shuts his big
b~one-handled knife, brushes the shay
ings from his shiny clothes, and goes to
the bedroom. The sick mar slowly
turns his head toward the doorway,
smiles sadly, puts out his long, white
bony hand to him, and whispers hoarse-
ly "Well, doctor2" which is a sick
mans favorlte form of asking how his
doctor thinks he is getting along. The
cid doctor raises the blue paper cur
tain and slowly draws a chair close to
the bed. ooh, you're looking ever 50
much better to-day. Well have you
out hoeing potatoes IN a day or two"
The old doctor knows this is false :
knows that no human power can pro-
long the mans life a month, bnt he is
one of those great good men who live
above the necessity of telling the truth
on all occasions. Only the p~uny.souled
creatures who have to keep themselves
in strait-jaekets lest they do something
wicked need to live within the narrow
limits of an inyiolable rule always to
tell the truth. "You're getting on
nicely. Don't you see you've got more
color in your hands ? And your eye
looks brighter than it has for a month.
a very sick man wouldn't sleep as you
did this morning. Why, I've been
here two hours, and you've been sound
asleep and snoring every minute o. the
time, amt he, Mrs. Sanford p The
poor wife is almost afraid the doctor
eXaggerates, but there is something so
wholesome in the old doctors manner;
and so encouraging in his words that
she quite forgets her troubles, and be-
comes even clipper in her efforts to as
sure her husband that the doctor is
right.
While the little woman moves
softly about, gently busting this and
that piece of furniture, turning the
shutters so that the sunbeams creeping
toward the bed may not climb up and
get into the eyes Of the SIGH man, the
old doctor urges on the conversation,
adroitly, turning the subject from sick
ness and trouble, and even from health
and prosperity, with which the sick
man mis- ut make faithful comparisons.
Soon the room is changed from a cham
Der Of death and despair to a panorama
of scenes pictured by the doctor in the
relation of his ~recollections and expe-
riences. The sick mar turns his head
to catch every word. He is an interes-
ted listener while the old doctor sits
there and relates as actual personal his
tory a hundred and one things
that never happened to anybody. Why
should he stop to ask himself whether
truth is mighty so long as he can see
that falsehood is prevailing over his pa
TENTS despair and causing him to for
get whether he is sick or well.
A writhing of the sick mans face
and the placing of his thin, clammy
hand upon his breast tells of a sharp
pain. Quick, the oplate All, yes,
he sleeps. He will not wake again.
Death came to him as in a pleasant
dream. He knew it not, and hence he
died but nee. Kind-hearted, warm
old doctor Dear old coward, who
never fights disease, but surrenders at
its first approach. and labors lovingly to
smooth the way to death ! Blessed old
bungler, who gives no dying man the
warning that would turn his latest
hours to business cares and save his
heirs a world of worriment and loss
Who does not love the old doctor?