She tended me and sung to me like all the angels
in heaven, and when she'd lay her hand on me--well, there! seems's
though my narves 'ud quiet right down, and blow away like smoke. I've
ben a well woman--that is to say, for one that's always enjoyed poor
health--sence Dr. Brown sent that blessed child to me. She has a gift,
if ever any one had. Dr. Brown had ought to give her half of what he
makes doctorin'; she's more help than all the medicine ever _he_
gives. I never saw a doctor so dretful stingy with his stuff. Why,
I've ben perishin' sometimes for want o' doctorin', and all he'd give
me was a little pepsin, or tell me to take as much sody as would lay
on the p'int of a penknife, or some such thing,--not so much as you'd
give to a canary-bird. I do sometimes wish we had a doctor who knew
the use o' medicine, 'stead of everlastin'ly talkin' about the laws o'
health, and hulsome food, and all them notions. Why, there's old Dr.
Jalap, over to the Corners. He give Beulah Pegrum seven Liver Pills at
one dose, and only charged her fifty cents, over 'n' above the cost of
the pills. Now _that's_ what I call doctorin',--not but what I like
Dr. Brown well enough. But Mel'dy--well, there! and now to have her
took off so suddin, and never to know whether she's buried
respectable, or buried at all! You hear awful stories of city ways,
these times.
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