Having greeted my uncle heartily, and said “good day” to the loungers around the fire, he took a seat, spread his feet apart, and, sliding his hands up and down his legs, from the thigh to the shin-bone, called for a glass of flip. This was soon provided, and taking a large quid of tobacco out of his mouth—which he held in his hand, to be restored to its place after the liquor was discussed—he applied himself to the steaming potation. Having tasted this, and smacked his lips, a lickerish smile came over his face, and turning round to the company, he said, in an insinuating tone—“Does any on ye know of any body that’s sick in these parts?”
There was a momentary pause—and then Mat Olmstead, the standing wag of the village, replied: “Nobody, I guess, unless it’s Deacon Kellig’s cow.”
“Well,” said the doctor, not at all abashed at the titter which followed—“well, I can cure a cow; it’s not as if I was one of your college-larnt doctors; I should then be too proud to administer to a brute. But, the scriptur’ says, a marciful man is marciful to a beast—and I prefer follerin’ scriptur’ to follerin’ the fashion. If Providence has given me a gift, I shall not refuse to bestow it on any of God’s critters that stand in need on ’t.”
“Well,” said Matthew, “do you cure a cow with the same physic that you cure a man?”
“Why not?” said Farnum; “it’s better to be cured by chance, than killed by rule. The pint is, to get cured, in case of sickness, whether it’s a beast, or a man. Nater’s the great physician, and I foller that.”
“What is nater?” said Olmstead.
“Nater? Ah, that’s the question! Nater’s——nater!”—
“Indeed?—but can’t you tell us what it is?”
“I guess I could, if I tried: it’s the most mysteriousest thing in the univarsal world. I’ve looked into ’t, and I know. Now, when a cow has lost the cud, so that it won’t work up or down, I go to a place where there’s some elder; then I cut some strips of the bark up; and I cut some on ’t down; and I cut some on ’t round and round. I then make a wad on ’t, and put it down the cow’s throat. That part of the bark that’s cut up, brings the cud up; that part that’s cut down, carries it down; and that part that’s cut round and round, makes it work round and round: and so, you see, there’s a kind of huzzlety muzzlety, and it sets everything agoin’, and all comes right, and the critter’s cured as clean as mud. That’s what I call nater!”
This speech was uttered with a very knowing air, and it seemed to derive additional authority from the long cue and broad brim of the speaker. He looked around, and perceived a sort of awful respect in the countenances of the hearers. Even the shrewd and satirical Matthew was cowed by the wisdom and authority of the doctor. My uncle, who had hitherto stood behind the bar, now came forward, and, sitting down by his side, inquired how it was that he had gained such a wonderful sight of knowledge.