the mourners, and as we passed the Milman place I saw the old lady’s face up there just filling the four small panes.  You know she was almost helpless, and how she had got up into the little garret I cannot imagine, but she was evidently determined to inspect the procession as it went down the burying-ground lane.  It was a pity they did not cut the window beneath it in the lower room in her day.  You know what an odd face she had; I suppose it was distorted by disease and out of all shape it ever knew; but I can see it now, framed in with its cap border and the window as if there were no more of her.”

“She really was the most curious old creature; it more than accounts for Mrs. Turner’s and Miss Betsy’s love for a piece of news,” said Mrs. Graham, who was much amused.  “But I wish we understood the value of these old news-loving people.  So much local history and tradition must die with every one of them if we take no pains to save it.  I hope you are wise about getting hold of as much as possible.  You doctors ought to be our historians, for you alone see the old country folks familiarly and can talk with them without restraint.”

“But we haven’t time to do any writing,” the guest replied.  “That is why our books amount to so little for the most part.  The active men, who are really to be depended upon as practitioners, are kept so busy that they are too tired to use the separate gift for writing, even if they possess it, which many do not.  And the literary doctors, the medical scholars, are a different class, who have not had the experience which alone can make their advice reliable.  I mean of course in practical matters, not anatomy and physiology.  But we have to work our way and depend upon ourselves, we country doctors, to whom a consultation is more or less a downfall of pride.  Whenever I hear that an old doctor is dead I sigh to think what treasures of wisdom are lost instead of being added to the general fund.  That was one advantage of putting the young men with the elder practitioners; many valuable suggestions were handed down in that way.”

“I am very well contented with my doctor,” said Mrs. Graham, with enthusiasm, at this first convenient opportunity.  “And it is very wise of you all to keep up our confidence in the face of such facts as these.  You can hardly have the heart to scold any more about the malpractice of patients when we believe in you so humbly and so ignorantly.  You are always safe though, for our consciences are usually smarting under the remembrance of some transgression which might have hindered you if it did not.  Poor humanity,” she added in a tone of compassion.  “It has to grope its way through a deal of darkness.”

The doctor sighed, but he was uncommonly restful and comfortable in the large arm-chair before the fender.  It was quite dark out of doors now, and the fire gave all the light that was in the room.  Presently he roused himself a little to say “‘Poor humanity,’ indeed!  And I suppose nobody sees the failures and miseries as members of my profession do.  There will be more and more sorrow and defeat as the population increases and competition with it.  It seems to me that to excel in one’s work becomes more and more a secondary motive; to do a great deal and be well paid for it ranks first.  One feels the injury of such purposes even in Oldfields.”