James Whitcomb Riley

“ Doc even holds 'at murder hain't no crime we got a right
To hang a man fer—claims it's taint o' lunacy, er quite.—
"Hold sich a man responsibul fer murder," Doc says,—"then,
When he's hung, where's the rope to pull them sound-mind jurymen?
LXXVI
"It's in a nutshell—all kin see," says Doc,—"it's cle'r the Law's
As ap' to err as you er me, and kill without a cause:
The man most innocent o' sin I've saw, er 'spect to see,
Wuz servin' a life-sentence in the penitentchury." ”

“ Up some back-alley 'fore he'll stand and listen to a furse
When ary one's got upper-hand and t' other one's got worse.
LXXXV
Doc says: "I 'spise, when pore and weak and awk'ard talkers fails,
To see it's them with hardest cheek and loudest mouth prevails.—
A' all-one-sided quarr'l'll make me biased, mighty near,—
'Cause ginerly the side I take's the one I never hear."
LXXXVI
What 'peals to Doc the most and best is "seein' folks agreed,
And takin' ekal interest and universal heed
O' ever'body else's words and idies—same as we
Wuz glad and chirpy as the birds—jes as we'd ort to be!" ”

“ 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!
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.) ”

“ And old and pore, and weak and small, and lone and motherless,—
I jes tell you I 'preciate the man 'at 's got the love
To "go ye forth and ministrate!" as Scriptur' tells us of.
XVI
Dull times, Doc jes mianders round, in that old rig o' his:
And hain't no tellin' where he's bound ner guessin' where he is;
He'll drive, they tell, jes thataway fer maybe six er eight
Days at a stretch; and neighbers say he's bin clean round the State. ”

“ Said, stars at night wuz jes as good 's a compass: said, he s'pose
You couldn't lose Doc in the woods the darkest night that blows!
XIX
Said, Doc'll tell you, purty clos't, by underbresh and plants,
How fur off warter is,—and 'most perdict the sort o' chance
You'll have o' findin' fish; and how they're liable to bite,
And whether they're a-bitin' now, er only after night.
XX
And, whilse we're talkin' fish,—I mind they formed a fishin'-crowd
(When folks could fish 'thout gittin' fined, and seinin' wuz allowed!) ”

“ 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
XLVI
"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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ And some's a-limpin' round here yit—a-waitin' Last Review,—
'U'd give the pensions 'at they git, and pawn their crutches, too,
To he'p Doc out, ef he wuz pressed financial'—same as he
Has allus he'pped them when distressed—ner never tuk a fee.
XCII
Doc never wuz much hand to pay attention to p'tence
And fuss-and-feathers and display in men o' prominence:
"A railly great man," Sifers 'lows, "is not the out'ard dressed—
All uniform, salutes and bows, and swellin' out his chest. ”