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Unlike before, though, the nation’s hills and back roads no longer crawled with the herb doctors, midwives, itinerant folk healers, and bonesetters who had provided care where no other existed.

There was not many good doctors in those days, but my grandfather was an old fashioned herb doctor.

An old herb doctor told her about a herb he had used on de plantations to cure de slaves' sore eyes.

She had been making a call on Aunt Polly Woodchuck, the herb doctor, who lived under the hill.

Three peculiarities—a strong, aromatic smell, a bitter taste, and a blistering quality in the leaves—were quite sufficient to establish it in the pharmacopœia of the herb doctors.