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 advertisement, 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!"