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ow yourself the theory Clay, of the two sets of microbes, the builders and the destroyers. Just at the present moment, the destroyers have the best of it--they have put one over on the builders--but that does not say that the good microbes are not working--and may yet win. You are young, buoyant, happy, hopeful, temperate in your habits--all of which gives you a better chance--if you will throw the weight of your influence on the side of the builders--there is a good chance of winning--I should think with your Irish blood you would enjoy the fight, Clay." The young doctor turned around suddenly and threw back his head, with an impatient gesture. "I love a fight, Dr. Brander, but it has to be of something worth while. I have fought for the life of a man, a woman, a child, and I have fought joyfully--for life is sweet, and I desired it for these people, believing it to be a good gift. But in the fight you outline for me, I see nothing to fire man's heart. I won't fight for life if it means just breathing and scraping along at a poor, dying rate, cheating the undertaker of a nice little piece of legitimate business--I can't grow enthusiastic over the prospect of always thinking about myself--and my rest--and my sleep--or my clothes--always looking for a draught or fleeing from the night air or a thunderstorm--never able to do a man's job or a day's work. I can't do it, Dr. Brander, and you couldn't do it. It's a poor, miserable, dull existence, unhappy for me, and no service to any one." Two red spots burned in his cheeks, and the old doctor, noticing them, wished again that he had come to see him sooner. "See here, Clay," he said, sitting down again, with his hands spread out on his knees, "you exaggerate this thing. You do not think you are working unless you are slaving and owling around all hours of the night, setting bones and pulling teeth, or ushering into this wicked world sundry squalling babies who never asked to come, and do not like it now they are here. You have been as strong as an ox, and keen as a race-horse, now you have to slow up--you have to get out of this country before another winter, and when you come back in Spring you can go on with your patients--always with care." The young doctor surveyed him with curling lip. "Resume my practice," he said, "how simple. Send word ahead, I suppose, by circular letter-- "'Dear Friends, I will be with you May 1st, to attend to your medical needs. S
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