XC
His wuz the face they saw the first—all dim, but smilin' bright,
As they come to and knowed the worst, yit saw the old Red-White-
And-Blue where Doc had fixed it where they'd see it wavin' still,
Out through the open tent-flap there, er 'cros't the winder-sill.
XCI
And some's a-limpin' round here yit—a-waitin' Last Review,—
'U'd give the pensions 'at they git, and pawn their crutches, too,
To he'p Doc out, ef he wuz pressed financial'—same as he
Has allus he'pped them when distressed—ner never tuk a fee.
XCII
Doc never wuz much hand to pay attention to p'tence
And fuss-and-feathers and display in men o' prominence:
"A railly great man," Sifers 'lows, "is not the out'ard dressed—
All uniform, salutes and bows, and swellin' out his chest.
XCIII
"I met a great man onc't," Doc says, "and shuk his hand," says he,
"And he come 'bout in one, I guess, o' disapp'intin' me—
He talked so common-like, and brought his mind so cle'r in view
And simple-like, I purt'-nigh thought, 'I'm best man o' the two!'"