Rubáiyát of Doc Sifers
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Ef you don't know Doc Sifers I'll jes argy, here and now,You've bin a mighty little while about here, anyhow!'Cause Doc he's rid these roads and woods – er swum 'em, now and then —And practised in this neighberhood sence hain't no tellin' when!II
In radius o' fifteen mile'd, all p'ints o' compass round,No man er woman, chick er child, er team, on top o' ground,But knows him– yes, and got respects and likin' fer him, too,Fer all his so-to-speak dee-fects o' genius showin' through!III
Some claims he's absent-minded; some has said they wuz afeardTo take his powders when he come and dosed 'em out, and 'pearedTo have his mind on somepin' else – like County Ditch, er someNew way o' tannin' mussrat-pelts, er makin' butter come.IV
He's cur'ous – they hain't no mistake about it! – but he's gotEnough o' extry brains to make a jury– like as not.They's no describin' Sifers, – fer, when all is said and done,He's jes hisse'f Doc Sifers– ner they hain't no other one!V
Doc's allus sociable, polite, and 'greeable, you'll find —Pervidin' ef you strike him right and nothin' on his mind, —Like in some hurry, when they've sent fer Sifers quick, you see,To 'tend some sawmill-accident, er picnic jamboree;VI
Er when the lightnin' 's struck some hare-brained harvest-hand; er inSome 'tempt o' suicidin' – where they'd ort to try ag'in!I've knowed Doc haul up from a trot and talk a' hour er twoWhen railly he'd a-ort o' not a-stopped fer "Howdy-do!"VII
And then, I've met him 'long the road, a-lopin', – starin' straightAhead, – and yit he never knowed me when I hollered "Yate,Old Saddlebags!" all hearty-like, er "Who you goin' to kill?"And he'd say nothin' – only hike on faster, starin' still!VIII
I'd bin insulted, many a time, ef I jes wuzn't shoreDoc didn't mean a thing. And I'm not tetchy any moreSence that-air day, ef he'd a-jes a-stopped to jaw with me,They'd bin a little dorter less in my own fambily!IX
Times now, at home, when Sifers' name comes up, I jes let on,You know, 'at I think Doc's to blame, the way he's bin and goneAnd disapp'inted folks – 'Ll-jee-mun-nee! you'd ort to thenJes hear my wife light into me – "ongratefulest o' men!"X
'Mongst all the women – mild er rough, splendifferous er plain,Er them with sense, er not enough to come in out the rain, —Jes ever' shape and build and style o' women, fat er slim —They all like Doc, and got a smile and pleasant word fer him!XI
Ner hain't no horse I've ever saw but what'll neigh and tryTo sidle up to him, and paw, and sense him, ear-and-eye:Then jes a tetch o' Doc's old pa'm, to pat 'em, er to shoveAlong their nose – and they're as ca'm as any cooin' dove!XII
And same with dogs, – take any breed, er strain, er pedigree,Er racial caste 'at can't concede no use fer you er me, —They'll putt all predju-dice aside in Doc's case and go inKahoots with him, as satisfied as he wuz kith-and-kin!XIII
And Doc's a wonder, trainin' pets! – He's got a chicken-hawk,In kind o' half-cage, where he sets out in the gyarden-walk,And got that wild bird trained so tame, he'll loose him, and he'll flyClean to the woods! – Doc calls his name – and he'll come, by-and-by!XIV
Some says no money down ud buy that bird o' Doc. – Ner noInducement to the bird, says I, 'at he'd let Sifers go!And Doc he say 'at he's content – long as a bird o' preyKin 'bide him, it's a compliment, and takes it thataway.XV
But, gittin' back to docterin'– all the sick and in distress,And old and pore, and weak and small, and lone and motherless, —I jes tell you I 'preciate the man 'at 's got the loveTo "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 eightDays at a stretch; and neighbers say he's bin clean round the State.XVII
He picked a' old tramp up, one trip, 'bout eighty mile'd from here,And fetched him home and k-yored his hip, and kep' him 'bout a year;And feller said – in all his ja'nts round this terreschul ball'At no man wuz a circumstance to Doc! – he topped 'em all! —XVIII
Said, bark o' trees 's a' open book to Doc, and vines and mossHe read like writin' – with a look knowed ever' dot and cross:Said, stars at night wuz jes as good 's a compass: said, he s'poseYou 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' chanceYou'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!)O' leadin' citizens, you know, to go and seine "Old Blue" —But hadn't no big seine, and so – w'y, what wuz they to do?..XXI
And Doc he say he thought 'at he could knit a stitch er two —"Bring the materials to me – 'at's all I'm astin' you!"And down he sets – six weeks, i jing! and knits that seine plum done —Made corks too, brails and ever'thing – good as a boughten one!XXII
Doc's public sperit – when the sick 's not takin' all his timeAnd he's got some fer politics – is simple yit sublime: —He'll talk his principles– and they air honest; – but the slyFriend strikes him first, election-day, he'd 'commodate, er die!XXIII
And yit, though Doc, as all men knows, is square straight up and down,That vote o' his is – well, I s'pose – the cheapest one in town; —A fact 'at's sad to verify, as could be done on oath —I've voted Doc myse'f —And I was criminal fer both!XXIV
You kin corrupt the ballot-box– corrupt yourse'f, as well —Corrupt some neighbers, – but old Doc's as oncorruptibleAs Holy Writ. So putt a pin right there! – Let Sifers be,I jucks! he wouldn't vote agin his own worst inimy!XXV
When Cynthy Eubanks laid so low with fever, and Doc GlennTold Euby Cynth 'ud haf to go – they sends fer Sifers then!..Doc sized the case: "She's starved," says he, "fer warter– yes, and meat!The treatment 'at she'll git from me 's all she kin drink and eat!"XXVI
He orders Euby then to split some wood, and take and buildA fire in kitchen-stove, and git a young spring-chicken killed;And jes whirled in and th'owed his hat and coat there on the bed,And warshed his hands and sailed in that-air kitchen, Euby said,XXVII
And biled that chicken-broth, and got that dinner – all completeAnd clean and crisp and good and hot as mortal ever eat!And Cynth and Euby both'll say 'at Doc'll git as goodMeals-vittles up, jes any day, as any woman could!XXVIII
Time Sister Abbick tuk so bad with striffen o' the lung,P'tracted Meetin', where she had jes shouted, prayed and sungAll winter long, through snow and thaw, – when Sifers come, says he:"No, M'lissy; don't poke out your raw and cloven tongue at me! —XXIX
"I know, without no symptoms but them injarubber-shoesYou promised me to never putt a fool-foot in ner useAt purril o' your life!" he said. "And I won't save you now,Onless – here on your dyin' bed – you consecrate your vow!"XXX
Without a-claimin' any creed, Doc's rail religious viewsNobody knows – ner got no need o' knowin' whilse he chooseTo be heerd not of man, ner raise no loud, vainglorious prayersIn crowded marts, er public ways, er – i jucks, anywheres! —XXXI
'Less 'n it is away deep down in his own heart, at night,Facin' the storm, when all the town's a-sleepin' snug and tight —Him splashin' hence from scenes o' pride and sloth and gilded show,To some pore sufferer's bedside o' anguish, don't you know!XXXII
Er maybe dead o' winter– makes no odds to Doc, – he's gotTo face the weather ef it takes the hide off! 'cause he'll notLie out o' goin' and p'tend he's sick hisse'f – like some'At I could name 'at folks might send fer and they'd never come!XXXIII
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 isLeft of 'em – "'Nough," as Phin say now, "to track me by, and beA 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 trunkWuz 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 sereneAs 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 shorityAnd 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!"XXXVII
And, still in p'int, I mind, one night o' 'nitiation atSome secert lodge, 'at Doc set right down on 'em, square and flat,When they mixed up some Scriptur' and wuz funnin'-like – w'y, heLit in 'em with a rep'imand 'at ripped 'em, A to Z!XXXVIII
And onc't – when gineral loafin'-place wuz old Shoe-Shop – and allThe gang 'ud git in there and brace their backs ag'inst the wallAnd settle questions that had went onsettled long enough, —Like "wuz no Heav'n – ner no torment" —jes talkin' awful rough!XXXIX
There wuz Sloke Haines and old Ike Knight and Coonrod Simmes – all threeAg'inst the Bible and the Light, and scoutin' Deity."Science," says Ike, "it dimonstrates– it takes nobody's word —Scriptur' er not, – it 'vestigates ef sich things could occurred!"XL
Well, Doc he heerd this, – he'd drapped in a minute, fer to gitA tore-off heel pegged on agin, – and, as he stood on itAnd stomped and grinned, he says to Ike, "I s'pose now, purty soonSome lightnin'-bug, indignant-like, 'll ''vestigate' the moon!..XLI
"No, Ike," says Doc, "this world hain't saw no brains like yourn and mineWith sense enough to grasp a law 'at takes a brain divine. —I've bared the thoughts of brains in doubt, and felt their finest pulse, —And mortal brains jes won't turn out omnipotent results!"XLII
And Doc he's got respects to spare the rich as well as pore—Says he, "I'd turn no millionaire onsheltered from my door." —Says he, "What's wealth to him in quest o' honest friends to backAnd love him fer hisse'f? – not jes because he's made his jack!"XLIII
And childern. —Childern? Lawzy-day! Doc worships 'em! – You callRound at his house and ast 'em! – they're a-swarmin' there – that's all! —They're in his Lib'ry – in best room – in kitchen – fur and near, —In office too, and, I p'sume, his operatin'-cheer!XLIV
You know they's men 'at bees won't sting? – They's plaguey few, – but DocHe's one o' them. – And same, i jing! with childern; – they jes flockRound Sifers natchurl! – in his lap, and in his pockets, too,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 heHas he'pped their dyin' satisfied. – "The child shall live with meXLVI
"And Winniferd, my wife," he'd say, and stop right there, and cle'rHis th'oat, and go on thinkin' way some mother-hearts down hereCan't never feel their own babe's face a-pressin' 'em, ner makeTheir naked breasts a restin'-place fer any baby's sake.XLVII
Doc's Lib'ry – as he calls it, – well, they's ha'f-a-dozen she'vesJam-full o' books – I couldn't tell how many – count yourse'ves!One whole she'f's Works on Medicine! and most the rest's aboutFirst Settlement, and Indians in here, – 'fore we driv 'em out. —XLVIII
And Plutarch's Lives – and life also o' Dan'el Boone, and this-Here Mungo Park, and Adam Poe – jes all the lives they is!And Doc's got all the novels out, – by Scott and DickisonAnd Cooper. – And, I make no doubt, he's read 'em ever' one!XLIX
Onc't, in his office, settin' there, with crowd o' eight er nineOld neighbers with the time to spare, and Doc a-feelin' fine,A man rid up from Rollins, jes fer Doc to write him outSome blame p'scription – done, I guess, in minute, nigh about. —L
And I says, "Doc, you 'pear so spry, jes write me that recei'tYou have fer bein' happy by, – fer that 'u'd shorely beatYour medicine!" says I. – And quick as s'cat! Doc turned and writAnd handed me: "Go he'p the sick, and putt your heart in it."LI
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' freeAnd 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.He says, "You smoke, you drink all right; but I don't – neether one" —Says, "I like whiskey – 'good old rye' – but like it in its place,Like that-air warter in your eye, er nose there on your face."LIV
Doc's bound to have his joke! The day he got that off on meI jes had sold a load o' hay at "Scofield's Livery,"And tolled Doc in the shed they kep' the hears't in, where I'd hidThe stuff 'at got me "out o' step," as Sifers said it did.LV
Doc hain't, to say, no "rollin' stone," and yit he hain't no handFer 'cumulatin'. —Home's his own, and scrap o' farmin'-land —Enough to keep him out the way when folks is tuk down sickThe suddentest – 'most any day they want him 'special quick.LVI
And yit Doc loves his practice; ner don't, wilful, want to slightNo 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 endBy 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 someDoc'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 notPerfessional!– It's jes a shame 'at Doc hisse'f hain't gotNo better business-sense! That's why lots 'd respect him more,And not give him the clean go-by fer other doctors. Shore!LX
This-here Doc Glenn, fer instance; er this little jack-leg Hall; —They're business– folks respects 'em fer their business more 'n allThey ever knowed, er ever will, 'bout medicine. – Yit theyCollect their money, k-yore er kill. – They're business, anyway!LXI
You ast Jake Dunn; – he's worked it out in figgers. – He kin showStastistics 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."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'tSting him, er want to —'pear to not, – at least I know they don't.LXIV
With me and bees they's no p'tense o' social-bility —A dad-burn bee 'u'd climb a fence to git a whack at me!I s'pose no thing 'at's got a sting is railly satisfiedIt's sharp enough, ontel, i jing! he's honed it on my hide!LXV
And Doc he's allus had a knack inventin' things. – Dee-visedA windlass wound its own se'f back as it run down: and s'prisedTheir new hired girl with clothes-line, too, and clothes-pins, all in one:Purt'-nigh all left fer her to do wuz git her primpin' done!LXVI
And onc't, I mind, in airly Spring, and tappin' sugar-trees,Doc made a dad-burn little thing to sharpen spiles with – these-Here wood'-spouts 'at the peth's punched out, and driv' in where they boreThe auger-holes. He sharpened 'bout a million spiles er more!LXVII
And Doc's the first man ever swung a bucket on a treeInstid o' troughs; and first man brung grained sugar – so's 'at heCould use it fer his coffee, and fer cookin', don't you know. —Folks come clean up from Pleasantland 'fore they'd believe it, though!LXVIII
And all Doc's stable-doors onlocks and locks theirse'ves– and gatesThe same way; – all rigged up like clocks, with pulleys, wheels, and weights, —So, 's Doc says, "drivin' out, er in, they'll open; and they'll then,All quiet-like, shet up ag'in like little gentlemen!"LXIX
And Doc 'ud made a mighty good detective. – Neighbers allWill testify to that– er could, ef they wuz legal call:His theories on any crime is worth your listenin' to. —And he has hit 'em, many a time, 'long 'fore established true.LXX
At this young druggist Wenfield Pence's trial fer his life,On primy faishy evidence o' pizonin' his wife,Doc's testimony saved and cle'red and 'quitted him and freedHim so 's he never even 'peared cog-nizant of the deed!LXXI
The facts wuz – Sifers testified, – at inquest he had foundThe stummick showed the woman died o' pizon, but had downedThe dos't herse'f, – because amount and cost o' drug imployedNo druggist would, on no account, a-lavished and distroyed!LXXII
Doc tracked a blame-don burgler down, and nailed the scamp, to boot,But told him ef he'd leave the town he wouldn't prosecute.He traced him by a tied-up thumb-print in fresh putty, whereDoc glazed it. Jes that's how he come to track him to his lair!LXXIII
Doc's jes a leetle too inclined, some thinks, to overlookThe criminal and vicious kind we'd ort to bring to bookAnd punish, 'thout no extry show o' sympathizin', whereThey hain't showed none fer us, you know. But he takes issue there:LXXIV
Doc argies 'at "The Red-eyed Law," as he says, "ort to learnTo lay a mighty leenient paw on deeds o' sich concernAs only the Good Bein' knows the wherefore of, and spreadsHis hands above accused and sows His mercies on their heads."LXXV
Doc even holds 'at murder hain't no crime we got a rightTo 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'sAs 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."LXXVII
And Doc's a whole hand at a fire! – directin' how and whereTo set your ladders, low er higher, and what first duties air, —Like formin' warter-bucket-line; and best man in the townTo chop holes in old roofs, and mine defective chimblies down: