Kilo : being the love story of Eliph' Hewlitt, book agent

by Ellis Parker Butler

  CHAPTER XI. The False Gods of Doc Weaver

  When Eliph' Hewlitt reached the hotel after his unfortunate visit ofcourtship, he stood a minute irresolute, and then the sign of the KILOTIMES, across the street, caught his eye. Here was a power he must notneglect; the power of the press. He knew well enough that the next issueof the KILO TIMES would chronicle his arrival in town; somethinglike "E. Hewlitt is registered at the Kilo Hotel," or "E. Hewlitt,representing a New York publishing house, is sojourning in our midst,"but he felt that his heart interest in Kilo demanded something more thanthis. He was willing to have all the friends he could muster for thefight he would have to make for Miss Sally's affection, and he knew thatthe press was powerful in creating first impressions. He crossed thestreet and climbed the stair to the office of the KILO TIMES.

  Every Thursday, except once a year, when Thomas Jefferson Jones went tothe State Fair at Des Moines, the KILO TIMES appeared, printed on an oldWashington hand-power press in the TIMES office four small pages, backedby four other pages that came already printed from a Chicago supplyhouse, with the usual assortment of serial story, "Hints to Farmers,"column of jokes, sermon, and patent medicine advertisements. T. J.'s ownside was made up of local advertisements, a column of editorial, a fewbits of local news that he could scrape together, and several columnsof "country correspondence." T. J. himself was the entire force of theTIMES, except for a boy who came in every Thursday morning to work thehand-power of the press, who then washed up and delivered the papersabout town. T. J. had built up the paper from a state of decay until itwas one of the most prosperous country weeklies in Iowa, and he had donethis against a handicap that would have discouraged most men--he was notmarried.

  In Kilo subscriptions are frequently paid in turnips or cordwood, andthe advertisers expect at least half of their bills to be taken out intrade, and the unmarried publisher is at a disadvantage. An unmarriedpublisher has little use for the trade half of the payment he receivedfrom the advertising milliner. No editor can appear in public wearing agorgeously flowered hat of the type known as "buzzard," and retain therespect of his subscribers. Neither can he receive as currency, in ayear when the turnip crop is unusually plentiful, more than sixty orseventy bushels of turnips in one day without having to get rid of themat a severe discount. But, in spite of all this, T. J., by his energyand good humor, had made a success of the TIME, and his editorialsadvising the people not to patronize the Chicago mail-order houses, butto patronize their home merchants, were copied by his contemporaries allover the State. One of his editorials on the prospects of the year's hogcrop was quoted by the hog editor of a big Chicago daily, word for word.These are the real triumphs of country journalism, and all overthe State his paper was referred to by his brother editors as "Ourenterprising contemporary, the KILO TIMES," and T. J. as "The brilliantyoung editor of the same."

  When Eliph' Hewlitt entered the printing office T. J. was standingby his case setting up an item of news. He never wrote anything buteditorials on paper; other matter he composed in type as he went along.It saved time. Now he laid his "stick" on the case and turned to Eliph'.

  "My name is Hewlitt, Eliph' Hewlitt," said the book agent, "agent forJarby's Encyclopedia of Knowledge and Compendium of Literature, Scienceand Art,' published by Jarby & Goss, New York; price five dollars,neatly bound in cloth, one dollar down, and one dollar a month untilpaid."

  As the editor was about to speak, Eliph' raised his hand.

  "I don't want to sell you one!" he exclaimed. "We are members of thesame craft, and I never canvass publishers, except to offer them achance to buy this book at a very liberal discount offered by our firmto the fellow members of the great craft, a discount of forty percent,bringing the cost of the book, complete in every respect and exactlylike those sold regularly for five dollars, down to the phenomenallylow cost of three dollars. At this price no publisher can afford to bewithout a copy, containing, as it does, all the matter usually foundin the most complete and expensive encyclopedias, and much more, allcondensed into one volume for ready reference. It saves times andmoney."

  T. J. shook his head, not unkindly, but positively, and was about toturn to his case again, but Eliph' held out his hand.

  "I merely mentioned it," he said, with a smile. "I don't want to sellyou one. I supposed you would have learned from the landlord that I wasin town and I only wanted to be sure that you got the item right for thenext paper."

  T. J. turned to his galleys and read from the type:

  "'One of the visitors to our little burg this week is E. Hewlitt, of NewYork, who is stopping at the Kilo House.'"

  Eliph' stroked his whiskers and smiled.

  "Yes," he said. "Quite correct. H-e-w-l-i-t-t, I presume? A very gooditem, and well worded, but it might be more--more extensive."

  "We are rather crowded for space this week," said T. J. "Two of ourcountry correspondents missed the mails last week, and we have a doubledose of it this week."

  "Certainly," said Eliph'. "But I was thinking that this book ought to bementioned. The advent of a book like Jarby's Encyclopedia of Knowledgeand Compendium of Literature, Science and Art, containing, as it does,selections from the world's best literature, hints and helps for eachand every day in the year, recipes for the kitchen, the dying wordsof all the world's great men, with their lives, et cetery, ought to benoticed. I was wondering if you would have space to run in a little cardabout that book."

  T. J. came forward and brushed a heap of exchanges from the only chairin the office, and motioned to it with his hand. Eliph' laid his book onthe editor's desk, and picked up a copy of last week's TIMES. He ran hiseye over the columns, and stopped at the advertisement of Skinner, thebutcher.

  "I was thinking of something about twice the size of this," hesuggested.

  T. J. smiled and mentioned his rate for the space. It was not much, andEliph' nodded.

  "Every week, until forbid," he said, "and I guess I'd better subscribe.I am going to live right here in Kilo right along now, and the man thatdon't take his home paper never knows what is going on."

  T. J. was pleased. He was more pleased when Eliph' pulled a long pursefrom his pocket, and paid for one insertion of the advertisement and forthe subscription. The editor pulled a pad of paper toward himself,and wrote hastily, while Eliph' briefly mentioned facts. When the nextnumber of the TIMES appeared there was a well-displayed advertisement ofJarby's Encyclopedia, with Eliph' Hewlitt mentioned as agent, but moreimportant to Eliph' was the "local item" that stood at the very top ofthe local column.

  "We are glad to announce that Kilo has secured as a citizen Eliph'Hewlitt, a man whose work in behalf of good literature entitles him tothe highest praise. Mr. Hewlitt, who intends to make his home withus permanently, is representative of the celebrated work, Jarby'sEncyclopedia of Knowledge and Compendium of Literature, Science and Art,published by Jarby & Goss, Greater New York, and his travels in behalfof that work have taken him to all parts of the nation. To have a manof such extensive travel decide to make Kilo his home is an honor.Mr. Hewlitt says that in all his travels he never found a town moreup-to-date and progressive for its size than our own little burg. Weheartily welcome him to our midst.

  "We have it on good authority that Mr. Hewlitt is a man of considerablemeans, amassed in carrying on his work as a disseminator of literature,and that he intends, in the near future, to purchase a home here. Hewill probably buy a lot, and erect a dwelling that will be a creditto him and to our little burg. At present he is stopping with DoctorWeaver, the leading physician of our little burg.

  "We learn that our new citizen has followed a habit universally adoptedby many authors, theatrical artists, and others gifted in various ways,and early adopted a NOM DE PLUME, choosing the name of Eliph' Hewlittbecause of its unassuming simplicity. His real name is Samuel Mills, andhe is the son of the late W. P. Mills, of Franklin, gifted author of thedeservedly famous poetical work, 'The wages of Sin.' Early in his careerour new citizen found himself overshadowed by the fame of
his father,and unwilling to succeed by and because of his own efforts, he chosea NOM DE PLUME, which he has ever since used. This truly Americanindependence does him the greatest credit.

  "Mr. Mills, or Eliph' Hewlitt, as he prefers to be known, is an oldschoolmate of James Wilkins, the prominent livery and hotel man of ourlittle burg. Again we welcome him to our midst."

  This was headed, "Eliph' Hewlitt Now a Citizen of Kilo!" and it was allthe introduction the little book agent needed--except to Miss Sally.When she read it she turned pale. A book agent living in the very townwas more than she could bear.

  But there was another item of news that Eliph' left with T. J. that wentinto the same issue of the TIMES. This stated that Mrs. Smith, of NewYork, and Miss Susan Bell were visiting Miss Sally Briggs, and T. J. hadcompleted the slight information given him by Eliph' by a call at MissSally's. It was after Eliph' had told T. J. that he meant to make hishome in Kilo that the enterprising editor suggested Doc Weaver's as agood boarding place, and the little book agent was glad enough to settlehimself in a real home, for the Kilo Hotel was hardly more than an annexto the liver, feed and sale stable part of Jim Wilkins' business, andany man with half an eye could see that it was not, as a home for men,to be compared to the comfort with the stable, as a home for horses. Jimwould have been the last man in Kilo to expect a visitor to remain inthe Kilo Hotel more than two days. Before the end of the day Eliph' hadarranged with Mrs. Doc Weaver for board and lodging, and had moved hisbig valise to the little back room on the second floor, from the lowsix-paned windows of which he could look out over the cornfield thatenvironed Kilo on that side.

  At supper he met Doc Weaver himself, and found him, as Kilo pronouncedhim, "a ready talker." Eliph' and Doc Weaver were sitting at the suppertable, earnestly engaged in conversation, while the doctor's wifecleared away the dishes, and Eliph' was pouring out the knowledge hehad absorbed from Jarby's Encyclopedia of Knowledge and Compendiumof Literature, Science and Art. The doctor was having a mental feast.Behind his spectacles his eyes glowed, and in exact ratio, as thedoctor's spirits rose, the frown on his wife's forehead deepened.

  The doctor had few opportunities for discussing any subjects but themost ordinary. Neighborhood gossip, the weather, the price of corn, werethe usual sources of conversation in Kilo, except when an election gavea political tinge to discussions, or when a revival turned all attentionto religious matters; but the doctor's mind scorned these limitations,and he found few persons from year's end to year's end to whom he couldspeak openly on his favorite themes.

  To Kilo in general the doctor was something of a mystery. Ordinarilyhe was the most silent of men, but on occasion, as for instance when hecould buttonhole an intelligent stranger, he dissolved into a torrent ofwords.

  Doc Weaver held views. He believed there were other things besides theRepublican party and the Methodist Church, and being liberal-minded,he believed all these other things in turn, and he had believed thementhusiastically. He could not help thinking that he was of a littlefiner clay than Skinner, or Wilkins, or Colonel Guthrie. Kiloconsidered the doctor one of her peculiar institutions; as Kilo tookthe ever-joking Toole seriously, so she took the ever serious doctorgood-naturedly, but not too seriously. He was "jist Doc Weaver," andKilo reserved the right to laugh at him in private, and to brag abouthim to strangers, and they were apt to "joke" him about his beliefs.As he was sensitive and dreaded the rough raillery of his neighbors, hekept his enthusiasms to himself. He was like an overcharged bottle ofsoda water.

  Eliph' and the doctor were discussing Christian Science and faith curesgenerally, and when the doctor's wife passed to and fro, catching aphrase now and then, a look of deep anxiety spread over her face, until,as she brushed the crumbs from the red tablecloth, her shoulders seemedto droop in dejection.

  When she smoothed the cloth and set the lamp on the mat in the centerthe doctor glanced at his watch and arose. He buttoned his frock coatover his breast (it was the only frock coat in Kilo), and drew on hisdriving gloves, holding his hands on a level with his chin. It was ahabit, an aristocratic touch, which, like his side-whiskers, detachedhim from the rest of Kilo. He had once worn a silk hat, but he soonabandoned it for gray felt; for even he saw that a silk hat emphasizedhis individuality too strongly for comfort. It was a tempting mark forsnowballs in winter.

  When the doctor had closed the door and stepped from the front porch,his wife sank into a chair.

  "I do hope you won't git mad at what I'm goin' to say, Mister Hewlitt,"she said, "'cause I ain't goin' to say it for no such thing; but Icouldn't help hearin' what you was sayin' to Doc while I was reddin' offthe table. I wisht you wouldn't let him git to talkin' about new-fangledreligions and sich. It ain't for his good nor mine."

  Eliph' nodded good-naturedly.

  "Why, ma'm," he exclaimed, "we were only discussing faith cures, andneither of us believes in them--wholly, that is. Of course everyonewho has read the chapter on "India, It's Religions and Its History,' inJarby's Encyclopedia of Knowledge and Compendium of Literature, Scienceand Art, must to some extend admit the power of mind over matter. Butif you'd rather not have me, I'll not discuss it again. There are onethousand and one other interesting subjects treated of in this greatbook, any one of which will please the studious mind."

  "I'd rather you wouldn't, if you don't mind," said the doctor's wifesimply.

  Eliph' Hewlitt pushed back his chair, and arose as he saw the lines ofworry leave the face of his hostess. He turned to the side table andlooked among the books that lay on it.

  Mrs. Weaver sprang to her feet.

  "Land's sakes!" she cried. "I know what you're lookin' for. You'relookin' for that book of yourn, ain't you? It's right there behind themwax flowers on that what-not. I seen it layin' around and I jist shovedit back there so Doc wouldn't git at it."

  "Well, you sit down, ma'm," said the book agent. "I can get it. Butthere was no need to be so particular. The doctor knows how to hand abook as well as the next man."

  The doctor's wife drew her darning basket from the side table and turnedits contents into her lap.

  "'Twasn't that," she said; "I'd never have thought of that, I guess. Ihit it because I didn't know if 'twas a proper book for Doc. It's got akind of a queer name."

  Eliph' turned the book over in his hand. It was the first time anyonehad suggested that the volume might be dangerous. He looked up andsmiled.

  "It would not harm the youngest child, ma'm," he said, "unless it fellon it. I wouldn't harm a baby."

  "Well, I guess you'll think I'm awful foolish about Doc," said Mrs.Weaver, "but I wasn't goin' to take no chances, and the name kind ofriled. Me. And them pictures of ladies bending."

  "Physical Culture," said Eliph', "How to Develop the Body, How toMaintain Perfect Health, How to Keep Young and Beautiful. Page 542. Why,ma'm, that's just a system of training for the body. It makes one moregraceful, just like running and jumping makes a boy strong."

  The doctor's wife heaved a sigh of relief.

  "Well, I guess that won't hurt Doc any if he does read it," she laughed."I thought it was some new-fangled religion or other, and I allus keepsich things out of Doc's reach. Mebby you'll think I'm crazy, but whenyou know Doc as well as I do, you'll find out mortal quick he is totake up with new notions, and it would be jist like him to give up hissittin' in church and go and be a Physical Culture, if there was anysich belief. I don't mind much his bein' a Socialist, or any of thempolitercal things, if he wants to,--and goodness knows he does,--'causethey keep his mind busy; but since I got him to jine church I'm goin'to keep him jined, Physical Culture or no Physical Culture. I seen thempictures, and they riled me right up, to think of Doc's goin' roundwrapped up in them sheets, or whatever it is on them folks in thepictures. Mebby it's all right for Physical Culturers, but I don't everhope to see Doc so."

  Eliph' Hewlitt laughed a thin little laugh, and Mrs. Weaver smiled.

  "Now, you do think I'm foolish, don't you?" she inquired. "But I hadsich a time with Doc
'fore I married him that I'm scared half to deathevery time I hear a long word I ain't right sure of. I was 'most worriedout of my wits last Summer when Miss Crawford was lecturin' on ChristianScience. It was jist about even whether Doc 'ud git in line or not. Hehad an awful struggle, poor feller, 'cause he can't bear to have nothin'new to believe in com round and him not believe in it. Religions is toDoc jist like teethin' is to babies; they got to teethe, and seem likeDoc's got to catch new religions. He ain't never real happy when heain't got no queer fandango to poke his nose into. But he didn't gitChristian Scientisted.

  "I says to him, 'Doc, ain't you an allopathy?' And he says, 'Yes,certainly.' 'Well,' I says, 'if you go and be a Christian Science youcan't be no allopathy, Doc. Christian Science and allopathy don't mix,'I says, 'and you'd starve, that's what you'd do. I leave it to you, Doc,if you quit big pills, how'd you ever git a livin'? There ain't no bigpills set down in the Christian Science book.'

  "Well, he poked his eyes up at the ceiling, and says, 'I might write,Loreny.' 'Yes,' I says, 'so you might. And what 'd you write, DocWeaver?' I says. 'Shakespeare?' And Doc shet right up, and neversaid another word. It was a mean thing for me to say, but I was awfulworried."

  "Shakespeare?" inquired Eliph'.

  "Yes, that's the word--Shakespeare," said Mrs. Weaver. "It come purtynigh keeping me from marrying Doc. You see, Doc ain't like common folks.Don's got sich broad ideas of things. Lib'ral, he calls it, but I nameit jist common foolish. He's got to give every new-fangled scheme ashow. I guess, off and on, Doc's believed most every queer name in thedictionary, and some that ain't been put in yet. I used to tell him theydidn't git them up fast enough to keep up with him. He's got a wonderfulmind, Doc has.

  "I hain't no notion how ever Doc got started believin' things, but mebbyhe got in with a bad lot at the doctor school he went to. Doc told mehisself they cut up dead folks. Anyhow, he come back from Chicagoa regular atheist; but that was before I knowed him. He lived up atClarence, and he didn't come to Kilo 'til about ten years after that,and he'd got pretty well along by then, and had got right handy atbelievin' things.

  "Well, when Doc come to Kilo pa had jist died an' ma an' me had to takein boarders to git along; so Doc come to our house to board. That's howDoc an' me got to know each other. I was about as old as Doc, and wewasn't either of us very chickenish, but I thought Doc was the finestman I'd ever saw, an' exceptin' what I'm tellin' you, I ain't ever hadcause to change my mind.

  "I'd never sa so many books as Doc brought--more'n we've got now. Iburned a lot when we got married--Tom Paine and Bob Ingersoll, and all Iwasn't sure was orthodoxy. Why, we had more books than we've got inthe Kilo Sunday School Lib'ry. 'Specially Shakespeare books, someShakespeare writ hisself, an' some that was writ about him. Doc was realtook up with Shakespeare them days.

  "'Most all his spare time Doc put in readin' them Shakespeare books, andsometime he'd git a new one. One day he come home mad. I ain't seen Docreal mad but twice, but he was mad that day and no mistake. He'd got anew book, an' he set down to read it as soon as he got in the house; butevery couple of pages he'd slap it shut and walk up an' down, growlin'to hisself. Oh, but he was riled! That night I heard him stampin' upan' down his room, mad as a wet hen, and by and by I heard that bookgo rattlin' out of the window and plunk down in the radish bed. So nextmorning I went out and got it, 'cause I liked Doc purty well by then,and it made me sorry to see sich a nice, quiet man carry on so.

  "I couldn't make head nor tail of the book, nor see why it riled Docup so. It was jist another Shakespeare book, only this one said that itwasn't Shakespeare, but some one else, that wrote the Shakespeare books.I thought Doc was real foolish to git so mad about it, but I had no ideahow much Doc had took it to heart.

  "Well, I do run on terribul when I git started, don't I? An' them supperdishes waitin' to be washed! But I guess it won't hurt them to stand abit. You see, when Doc begun to take a likin' for me, the poor fellerstarted in to talk about what he believed in. Most fellers does. Firsthe begun about greenbacks. He was the only Greenbacker in Kilo; but thatwas jist politercal stuff, and while I'm a good Republican, like pa was,I didn't see that it would hurt if my husband did think other than whatI did on that, so long as he wasn't a saloon Democrat. That was whenthey was havin' the prohibition fight in Ioway, you know. But when Docbegun lettin' out hints that he didn't think much of goin' to church, Iwas real sorry.

  "I was sorry because I couldn't see my way clear to marry an outsider,bein' a good Methodist myself; but I didn't dream but that he was jistone of these lazy Christians that don't attend church lest they'redragged. There is plenty sich. I thought mebby I could bring him roundall right once he was married; so I jist asked him right out if he wouldjine church.

  "Well, you'd have thought I'd asked him to take poison! He didn't flareup like some would, but jist sat down and explained how he couldn't. Iguess he must have explained, off an' on, for three weeks before I gota good hang of his idea. Seems like he was believing some Hindoo stuffjist then. I don't know as you ever heart tell of it. It's about souls.When a person dies his soul goes into another person, and so on, untilkingdom come. R'inca'nation's what they call it."

  "Yes," said Eliph' Hewlitt, "it is all given in 'India, Its Religionsand Its History,' in Jarby's Encyclopedia of Knowledge and Compendium ofLiterature, Science and Art."

  "Jist so!" said Mrs. Weaver. "Well, I guess by the time Doc got doneexplainin' I knew more about r'inca'nation than what your Encyclopediaof Compendium does, because night after night Doc would sit up andexplain till I'd drop off asleep.

  "But it wasn't no use. So far as I could see, r'inca'nation was jistplain error and follerin' after false gods, and I told Doc so. Anyhow,I knowed there wan't nothin' like it in the Methodist Church, an' I jistup and let Doc know I wouldn't marry anybody that believed such stuff.Doc reckoned to change my mind, but my argument was jist plain 'Iwon't!' and that settled it. I believe a man and wife ought to belong tothe same church,--'thy God shall be my God'--and I wasn't goin' to giveup what I'd been taught for any crazy notions Doc had got into his head.I told him so, plain.

  "Then Doc took a poetry-writing spell, but he wasn't no great hand atit. I told him in plain words he would be better off rollin' allopathypills. I used to git right put out with Doc sometimes, foolin' away goodtime that way, sittin' round by the hour spoilin' good paper. I reckonhe started close onto a thousand poems, but he didn't git along verygood. 'Bout the their line he'd stop and tear up what he'd wrote. WhenI wasn't mad I used to feel real sorry for Doc, he tried so hard;but feelin' sorry for him didn't help him none, and it was kind ofridiculous to see him.

  "One day I asked Doc why he didn't tell ma and the rest of Kilo whathe believed in, and he said that Kilo folks couldn't understand sichthings, bein' mostly born and bred in the Methodist Church, and notlib'ral like he was. I seen he was payin' me a compliment, because hehad told me, but I couldn't swaller r'inca'nation, for all that. And sowe didn't seem to git no further.

  "But one day Doc says, 'Well, Loreny, WHY can't you marry me? Theyain't no one can love you like I do, and you know I'll make you a goodhusband, and I'll go to church with you reg'lar if you say so.'

  "'Goin' to church ain't all, Doc Weaver,' I says. 'I jist won't marry aman that believes sich trash as you do.'

  "'Well, tell me why not,' he says.

  "'I'll tell you, Doc Weaver,' I says, 'since you drive me to it. I'mwilling enough to marry YOU, but I ain't willing to marry some oldheathen Chinee or goodness knows what!'

  "'Doc was took all aback. 'Why, Loreny!' he says, 'Why, Loreny!'

  "'I mean it,' I says, 'jist what I say. How can I tell who you are whenyou say yourself you ain't nothing but some old spirit in a new body?Like as not you're Herod, or an Indian, or a cannibal savage, and I'dlike to see myself marryin' sich,' I says, 'I'd look purty, wouldn't I,settin' in church alongside of a made-over Chinee?'

  "Doc ain't very pale, ever, but he got as red as a beet, and I see I'dhit him purty hard. Then h
e kind of stiffened up.

  "'Loreny,' he says, 'I'd have thought you'd have believed my spirit tobe a little better than a heathen Chinee's,' he says, 'though there'smuch worse folks than what they are.'

  "I seen he was put out, an' I hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, so Isays, more gentle, 'Well, Doc, if you ain't that, what are you?'

  "I s'pose, Mr. Hewlitt, you've noticed how sometimes something you findout will make clear to you a lot of things you couldn't make head nortail of before. That's the way what Doc said did for me. There was thatpoetry writin' of his, an' the way that Shakespeare book made him mad,an' how he read those Shakespeare books instead of his Mateery Medickyvolumes.

  "Well, I asked Doc, 'If you ain't a heathen Chinee or some sich, whatare you?' an' when he answered you could have knocked me down with awisp of hay. You'd never guess, no more than I did.

  "'Loreny,' he says, solemn as a deacon, 'I didn't reckon never to tellnobody, an' you mustn't judge what I tell you too quick. I ain't made upmy mind sudden-like,' he says, 'but have studied myself and what I likeand don't like, for years, and I've jist been forced to it,' he says.'There ain't no doubt in my mind, Loreny,' he says, an' he let his voicego way down low, like he was 'most afraid to say it hisself. 'Loreny, Ibelieve that Shakespeare's spirit has transmigrated into me.'

  "Well, sir, I was too taken aback to say a word. I thought Doc had gonecrazy. But he hadn't.

  "When I kind of got my senses back I riled up right away. 'Well,' I sayssnappy, 'I think when you was pickin' out someone to be you might havepicked out someone better. From all I've heard, Shakespeare wasn't nobetter than he'd ought to have been. He don't suit me no better than aChinee would, and I hain't no fancy to marry Mister Shakespeare. Maybeyou think it's fine doin's to be Shakespeare, Doc Weaver, but I don't,and I ain't going to marry a man that's like a two-headed cow, half onething and half another, and not all of any. When you git your senses,'I says, 'you can talk about marryin' me' and off I went, perky as apeacock. But I cried 'most all night.

  "Him an' me kind of stood off from each other after that, and I made upmy mind I'd die before I'd marry Doc so long as he was Shakespeare, andDoc had got the notion that he was Shakespeare so set in his mind itseemed likely he would.

  "I hadn't never took much stock in poetry readin' since I got out of'Mother Goose,' but I begun to read Shakespeare a little jist to seewhat kind of poetry Doc thought he had writ when he was Shakespeare.Well, I wouldn't want to see sich books in the Sunday School Lib'ry,that's all I've got to say. Some I couldn't make sense out of, but therewas one long poem about Venus and some young feller--well, I shouldn'tthing the gov'ment would allow sich things printed! I jist knowed Doccouldn't ever have writ such stuff. There ain't so much meanness in him.But I couldn't see clear how to make Doc see it that way.

  "I'd about given up hopes of ever curing Doc, when one day a feller cometo town and give a lecture in the dance room over the grocery. He wasone of these spiritualism fellers, and as soon as it was noised aroundthat he was comin', I knowed Doc would be the first man to go and thelast to come away, and he was. Thinks I, 'Let him go. If Doc jines inwith spiritualists, it will be better'n what he believes in now, and ifhe begins changin' religions, mebby I can keep him changin', and changehim into a churchgoer." And so, jist to see what Doc was like to be,I coaxed ma to go, an' I went, too. It wasn't near so sinful as Iexpected.

  "The feller's name was Gilson, an' he was as pale as a picked chicken,but real common lookin', otherwise. He was a right-down good talker andseemed real earnest. He wasn't the ghost-raisin' kind of spiritualist,and them that went to see a show, come away dissap'inted, for all he didwas to talk and take up a collection. He said he was a new beginner andused to be a Presbyterian minister. Doc stayed after it was over and hada talk with Gilson, and of course he got converted, like he always did.He told ma so.

  "I hadn't been havin' much talk with Doc one way or another, but when matold me he had jined the spiritualists I eased up a litt, and one dayI made bold to say, 'Well, Doc, I s'pose now you have give up thatShakespeare foolishness, ain't you?'

  "'No, Loreny,' he says, 'I ain't.'

  "'Land's sakes!' I says, 'do you mean to say you can be two things atonce in religion, as well as bein' Shakespeare and Doc Weaver?'

  "'Yes, Loreny,' he says. 'The spirit has got to be somewheres betweenthe times it has got a body,' he says, 'That stands to reason. It'salways puzzled me where I was between the time I died two or threehundred years ago and the time I entered this body,' he says, 'andspiritualism makes it all clear. I was floatin' in space.'

  "That's jist how fool-crazy Doc was them days. There he was believin'with all his might that r'inca'nation business and that spirit businessat the same time.

  "I says, 'Well, Doc, some day you'll see how deep in error you are,' andI didn't say no more.

  "Of course Doc wouldn't let well-enough alone. There was a bigspiritualist over to Peory, Illinoy, a reg'lar ghost-raisin' feller, andwhat did Doc do but write over and git him to come to Kilo and give aseance. That is a meetin' where they raise up ghosts. Doc wanted thefeller to stop at our house, but I wouldn't have it, so he had to put upat the hotel. Doc said it was a shame, but as soon as I seen the man Isaid it served him right, and that he was a fraud, but Doc swallered himright down, hide an' hoof.

  "They had the seance in the hotel parlor, and no charge, so me and mawent, thought we wasn't jist sure it was right; but I says it wasn't asif it was real--we knowed it was all foolishness; so ma and me trottedalong. I found out afterward that Doc paid to have the feller cometo Kilo. His name was Moller, an' he was one of them long-hairedgreasy-lookin' men.

  "I must say it was real scary when they turned the lights down an'Moller made tables jump around and fiddles play without anybody playin'on them. There wasn't many folks there, but ma held my hand, an' I heldma's, and Doc was right in front of us.

  "Moller did a lot of tricks sich as I hear they always do, an' then hesaid he'd bring up any spirits anyone would like to have come up. Thatwas what Doc was waitin' for, and he popped right up.

  "'I should like to talk to Bacon,' he says.

  "'Bacon?' says Moller. 'There's a good many Bacons in spirit-land. Whichone do you want to speak to, brother?"

  "'The one that lived when Shakespeare did,' says Doc. 'The one thatwrote the essays and sich. Sir Francis Bacon.'

  "'Ah, yes!' says Moller. 'I'll see if he's willin' to say anytingto-night.' And down he set into a chair. Well, you'd have died! In a bithis head and legs begun to jerk like he had St. Vitus dance, and then hestraightened out, stiff as a broomstick. It was the silliest thing everI seen. I felt real sorry for Doc, he was so dead earnest about it.

  "In a minute Moller opened his jaw and begun to talk. It was all sort ofjerky-like.

  "'I'm sailin' through starry fields,' he says, 'explorin' the wonders ofthe universe. Why am I called back to earth this way? Doth somebody wantto question me about something?'

  "Doc was all worked up. He held onto a chairback, an' he was so shakin'I could hear the loose chair rungs rattle.

  "'Is this Bacon?' he says.

  "'It is,' says Moller, his voice jerkin' like a kitten taken with thefits.

  "'Well,' says Doc, like his life was hangin' on what Moller would say,'did you, or did you not, write Shakespeare's plays?'

  "'I did not,' Moller jerked out; 'Shakespeare did.'

  "You could hear Doc sigh all over the room, it was sich a relief to hismind. Doc was awful pleased. He was smilin' all over his face, he wasso pleased to have Bacon own up, an' he turned to ma and me and says,'Ain't it wonderful!'

  "Then Moller come out of his fit an' set still a while, like he had jistwoke up from a long nap. Then he says he's goin' into another trance,an' if any in the room wants to hold talk with any of their lost friendsor kin, they should ask for them, an' he jerked again, and jerked outstiff.

  "That old back-slider, Pap Briggs, popped up, but Doc was ahead of him,'cause Pap always has to regulate his store t
eeth before he can git histongue goin', and Doc says, 'I desire to speak with Richard Burbage.'

  "I guess Moller didn't now any sich feller. Anyways he jist lay stillan' so Doc says, 'Mebby there's several Richard Burbages. I mean the onethat owned a theater with Shakespeare.' But Richard Burbage didn't feedlike talkin' that evenin'. I reckon Moller didn't know nothin' aboutRichard Burbage, and was frightened that Doc would ask him somethingthat he couldn't answer. There ain't nobody slicker than them fakefellers. It's their business.

  "But Doc was so worked up he would have swallered anything, and I guessMoller thought he had to make up to Doc for payin' his expenses, so hesays, smilin', 'I see, doctor, you are interested in literature, andI'll try to get somebody in that line that's willing to talk.' So hejerked into another trance.

  "Purty soon Moller says: 'From the seventh circle I have come, drawn bythe will of somebody that knows and loves me. It's a long way. Billionsof miles off is ny new home, where I spend eternity writin' things thatmake what I writ on earth look like nothin','--or some sich nonsense.Doc looked back at me once, proud as sin, an' then he swelled out hislungs, an' run his hand over his whiskers, like you've seen him do. Hewas gittin' wound up for a good talk.

  "If I do say it myself, Doc's a good talker, an' I figgered he'd makeMoller hustle. I see Doc was goin' to spread hisself to do credit toShakespeare. He hadn't no doubt that one spirit would recognize another,so he says, like he was makin' a speech, 'You know who I am?'

  "'I do,' says Moller.

  "'Then,' says Doc, 'since my spirit eyes are blinded by this mortalbody, may I ask who you are?' He didn't hardly breathe. Then Mollerjerked. 'I am Shakespeare,' he says, sudden-like.

  "'What's that?' says Doc, short and quick.

  "'Shakespeare,' says Moller--'William Shakespeare.'

  "Poor Doc jist dropped into his chair, and run his hand over hisforehead and his eyes, like he had bumped into the edge of a door in thedark. I ain't never seen Doc real pale but once, and that was then.Then he turned round to ma an' me, weak as a sick baby, an' says, 'Come,Loreny; this lyin' place ain't nowhere for you and me to be,' and wewent out.

  "'Well, Doc,' I says, when we was outside, 'seems to me like there istwo of you,' and that was all I says to him about it, then; but I guesshe see what a fool he'd been, 'cause the next night he says, 'Loreny,I wisht you'd git me a set of the articles of belief of our church. I'dlike to look them over.'

  "'Well,' I says, 'who'll I say wants them, Shakespeare or Doc Weaver?'

  "'You can say an old fool wants them,' says Doc, 'and you'll hit itabout right.'

  "So Doc jined church, an' he's leadin' the singin' now; but you cansee why I keep sich a lookout lest he gits started off on some newreligion."

  Mrs. Weaver glanced at the clock.

  "Mercy me!" she exclaimed. "Doc'll be home before I git them supperdishes washed up. Now, you won't feel hurt because I don't want you totalk new religions to Doc, will you? You can see jist how I feel, andyou wouldn't want no husband yourself that was a philopeny, as you mightsay. I don't believe I could git on real well with Doc if he had kept onbein' Shakespeare. I'd always have felt like he was 'bout three hundredyears older than me. But there's jist one thing I dread more thananything else. If Doc should take up with the Mormon religion and starta harem, I believe I'd coax him to be Shakespeare again. It's bad enoughto have a double husband, but, land's sakes, I'd rather that than bepart of a wife."