It was a simple record of Dobbs’s life. Here ran his expense list—a
dreary trickle of “bacon” and “meal” and “rent,” enlivened only once
with “sugar”; a saccharine suggestion that I am unable to account for,
as it surely did not comport with either of the staples that formed the
basis of his life. Probably, on some grand occasion, he and his mother
ate it in the lump.
Here were his accounts, of say fifty cents each, on men accounted
responsible in the world’s eye—accounts for papers furnished through
snow, and sleet, and rain! Some of them showed signs of having been
called for a dozen times, being frescoed with such notes as “Call
Tuesday,” “Call Wednesday,” “Call Thursday,” etc.
On another page was a pathetic list of delusive liniments and medicines,
with which he had attacked his stubborn disease. Such as, “King of
Pane—kored a man in Maryetti in 2 days, $1.00”; “Magic Linament—kores in
10 minnits, $2.00 a bottel”; and so on through the whole catalogue of
snares which the patent office turns out year after year. Poor fellow!
the only relief he got from his racking pains was when God laid his
healing hand on him.