"What's the matter with it?" inquired the doctor.
"Him swell up—fit to burst—can't walk no more."
The Galen of the river examined the foot, and, finding it perfectly sound and healthy, and not swollen in the least, assumed an enraged aspect, and demanded fiercely—
"What d'you mean by telling me these lies?"
"Please, master, not my foot sick, my fader foot sick."
"Then tell him to come here himself."
"He can't come—they put him ground already."
"D'you mean he's dead?"
"Yes, master—him dead now 'bout three month."
"Then what d'you mean by coming here? Get out of this."
"Master, I want the med'cine for sick foot same as I tell you. I want to give him my fader, he no get med'cine since he put in ground. I know him foot plenty sick now."
"Well, I'll give you some if you pay for it."
"I no get money, master."
"Then you won't get any medicine."
The filial affection of these people is not such that they will expend coin of the realm in the purchase of medicine or drink for their dead parents. They do
