n very ill with gall stones, so weak at
last that we thought he was sure to die. The house was so somber at the
time. Over it hung an atmosphere of depression and fear, with pity for
the sufferer, and groans of distress on his part. And then there were
the solemn visits of the doctor, made pleasant by his wise, kindly humor
and his hopeful predictions and ending in this seemingly mild
prescription, which resulted, in this case, in a cure. He was seemingly
so remote at times, in reality so near, and wholly thoughtful.

On this occasion I went out along the long, cold, country road of a
March evening. I was full of thoughts of his importance as a doctor. He
seemed so necessary to us, as he did to everybody. I knew nothing about
medicine, or how lives were saved, but I felt sure that he did and that
he would save my father in spite of his always conservative,
speculative, doubtful manner. What a wonderful man he must be to know
all these things--that peach sprouts, for instance, were an antidote to
the agony of gall stones!

As I walked along, the simplicity of country life and its needs and
deprivations were impressed upon me, even though I was so young. So few
here could afford to pay for expensive prescriptions--ourselves
especially--and Dr. Gridley knew that and took it into consideration, so
rarely did he order anything from a drug-store. Most often, what he
prescribed he took out of a case, compounded, as it were, in our
presence.

A brisk wind had fluttered snow in the morning, and now the ground was
white, with a sinking red sun shining across it, a sense of spring in
the air. Being unknown to these farmers, I wondered if any one of them
would really cut me a double handful of fresh young peach sprigs or
suckers from their young trees, as the doctor had said. Did they really
know him? Some one along the road--a home-driving farmer--told me of an
old Mr. Mills who had a five-acre orchard farther on. In a little while
I came to his door and was confronted by a thin, gaunt, bespectacled
woman, who called back to a man inside:

"Henry, here's a little boy says Dr. Gridley said you were to cut him a
double handful of peach sprigs."

Henry now came forward--a tall, bony farmer in high boots and an old
wool-lined leather coat, and a cap of wool.

"Dr. Gridley sent cha, did he?" he observed, eyeing me most critically.

"Yes, sir."

"What's the matter? What does he want with 'em? Do ya know?"

"Yes, sir. My fathe