Her eyes were wet and her voice quivering as she brought it forward.  The doctor, who had been wholly taken by surprise by this kindly manifestation of regard, had arisen during her impromptu address and now stood before her, dignified and emotionally grave, his own eyes wet with tears of appreciation.

Balancing the homely gift upon his extended hands, he waited until the force of his own sentiment had slightly subsided, when he replied: 

“Madam, I appreciate this gift with which you have chosen to remember me as much as I honor the sentiment which has produced it.  There are, I know, threads of feeling woven into it stronger than any cords of wool, and more enduring than all the fabrics of this world.  I have been your physician now for fifty years, and have been a witness of your joys and sorrows.  But, as much as I esteem you, and as highly as I prize this token of your regard, I can accept it but upon one condition, and that is, Mrs. Weeks, that you promise me that no matter how dark the night, how stormy the sky, or how deep the waters that intervene, you will not fail to send for me in your hour of need.  It is both my privilege and my pleasure, and I should not rest content unless I knew it were so.”

When the old lady had promised, he took his spread and going out to his horse, rode away to his own home, where he related this incident, and ended with, “Now I want this put on my bed.”

His daughter, who lovingly humored his every whim, immediately complied with his wish, and from that day to the hour of his death the spread was never out of his service.

One of the most pleasing incidents to me was one which related to his last illness and death.  Always, during his later years, when he felt the least bit ill, he refused to prescribe for himself, saying that a doctor, if he knew anything at all, was never such a fool as to take any of his own medicine.  Instead, and in sequence to this humorous attitude, he would always send for one of the younger men of the vicinity who were beginning to practice here, one, for instance, who having other merits needed some assurance and a bit of superior recognition occasionally to help him along.  On this occasion he called in a very sober young doctor, one who was greatly admired but had very little practice as yet, and saying, “Doctor, I’m sick today,” lay back on his bed and waited for further developments.

The latter, owing to Dr. Gridley’s great repute and knowledge, was very much flustered, so much so that he scarcely knew what to do.

“Well, Doctor,” he finally said, after looking at his tongue, taking his pulse and feeling his forehead, “you’re really a better judge of your own condition than I am, I’m sure.  What do you think I ought to give you?”

“Now, Doctor,” replied Gridley sweetly, “I’m your patient, and you’re my doctor.  I wouldn’t prescribe for myself for anything in the world, and I’m going to take whatever you give me.  That’s why I called you in.  Now, you just give me what you think my condition requires, and I’ll take it.”