AMOS KILBRIGHT; HIS ADSCITITIOUS EXPERIENCES
With Other Stories
by
FRANK R. STOCKTON
1888
CONTENTS.
AMOS KILBRIGHT: HIS ADSCITITIOUS EXPERIENCES
THE REVERSIBLE LANDSCAPE
DUSKY PHILOSOPHY--IN TWO EXPOSITIONS:
FIRST EXPOSITION: A STORY OF SEVEN DEVILS
SECOND EXPOSITION: GRANDISON'S QUANDARY
PLAIN FISHING
AMOS KILBRIGHT: HIS ADSCITITIOUS EXPERIENCES.
[This story is told by Mr. Richard Colesworthy, an attorney-at-law, in
a large town in one of our Eastern States. The fact that Mr. Colesworthy
is a practical man, and but little given, outside of his profession, to
speculative theorizing, adds a weight to his statements which they might
not otherwise possess.]
In the practice of my profession I am in the habit of meeting with all
sorts and conditions of men, women, and even children. But I do not know
that I ever encountered anyone who excited in me a greater interest than
the man about whom I am going to tell you.
I was busily engaged one morning in my office, which is on the ground
floor of my dwelling and opens upon the street, when, after a
preliminary knock, a young man entered and asked leave to speak with me.
He was tall and well made, plainly but decently dressed, and with a
fresh, healthy color on his smoothly shaven face. There was something in
his air, a sort of respectful awkwardness, which was not without a
suggestion of good breeding, and in his countenance there was an
annoyed or troubled expression which did not sit well upon it. I asked
him to take a chair, and as he did so the thought came to me that I
should like to be of service to him. Of course I desire to aid and
benefit all my clients, but there are some persons whose appearance
excites in one an instinctive sympathy, and toward whom there arise at
first sight sentiments of kindliness. The man had said almost nothing;
it was simply his manner that had impressed me. I mention these points
because generally I do not take an interest in persons until I know a
good deal about them.
"What can I do for you?" I asked.
The man did not immediately answer, but began searching for something in
one of the pockets of his coat. The little awkwardness which I had first
noticed, now became more apparent. He appeared to be looking for his
pockets rather than for what might be in one of them. He was conscious
of his ungainliness and reddened a little as he fumbled on the inside
and outside of his coat.
"I pray you pardon me," he said, "but I will bring before you instantly
the matter of my business."
And so saying, he got his hand into a breast pocket and drew out a
little packet. There was a certain intonation of his voice which, at
first made me think that he was not an American, but in that intonation
there was really nothing foreign. He was certainly a stranger, he might
be from the backwoods, and both his manner and speech appeared odd to
me; but soon I had no doubt about his being my countryman. In fact,
there was something in his general appearance which seemed to me to be
distinctively American.
"I came to you, sir," he said, "to ask if you would have the goodness to
purchase one or more of these tickets?" And he held out to me a card
entitling one person to admission to a séance to be given by a party of
spiritualists in one of the public buildings of the town.
A feeling of anger arose within me. I was chagrined to think that I had
begun to interest myself in a person who merely came to interrupt me in
my business by trying to sell me tickets to a spiritualistic exhibition.
My instant impulse was to turn from the man and let him see that I was
offended by his intrusion, but my reason told me that he had done
nothing that called for resentment. If I had expected something more
important from him, that was my affair. He had not pretended to have any
other business than that which brought him.
And, besides, he offered me something which in fact I wanted. I am a
member of a society for psychical research, which, about a year before,
had been organized in our town. It is composed almost exclusively of
persons who are desirous of honestly investigating the facts, as well as
theories, connected with the spiritual phenomena, not only of our own
day, but of all ages. We had heard of the spiritualistic exhibitions
which were to be given in our town, and I, with a number of my
fellow-members, had determined to attend them. If there was anything
real or tangible in the performances of these people we wanted to know
it. Considering all this, it would be foolish for me to be angry with a
man who had brought me the very tickets I intended to buy, and, instead
of turning away from him, I took out my pocket-book.
"I will take one ticket for each of the three séances," I said. And I
placed the money on the table.
I should have been glad to buy two sets of tickets; one for my wife; but
I knew this would be useless. She did not belong to our society, and
took no interest in its investigations.
"These things are all tricks and nonsense," she said. "I don't want to
know anything about them. And if they were true, I most certainly would
not want to know anything about them."
So I contented myself with the tickets for my own use, and as the man
slowly selected them from his little package, I asked him if he had sold
many of them.
"These you now buy are the first of which I have made disposal," he
answered. "For two days I have endeavored to sell them, but to no
purpose. There are many people to whom I cannot bring myself to speak
upon the matter, and those I have asked care not for these things. I
would not have come to you, but having twice passed your open window, I
liked your face and took courage."
I smiled. So this man had been studying me before I began to study him;
and this discovery revived in me the desire that he had come on some
more interesting business than that of selling tickets; a thing he did
so badly as to make me wonder why he had undertaken it.
"I imagine," said I, "that this sort of business is out of your line."
He looked at me a moment, and then with earnestness exclaimed:
"Entirely! utterly! absolutely! I am altogether unfitted for this
calling, and it is an injustice to those who send me out for me to
longer continue in it. Some other person might sell their tickets; I
cannot. And yet," he said, with a sigh, "what is there that I may do?"
The idea that that strong, well-grown man should have any difficulty in
finding something to do surprised me. If he chose to go out and labor
with his hands--and surely no man who was willing to wander about
selling tickets should object to that--there would be no difficulty in
his obtaining a livelihood in our town.
"If you want regular employment," I said, "I think you can easily find
it."
"I want it," he answered, his face clouded by a troubled expression,
"but I cannot take it."
"Cannot take it!" I exclaimed.
"No," he said, "I am not my own master. I am as much a slave as any
negro hereabouts!"
I was rather surprised at this meaningless allusion, but contented
myself with asking him what he meant by not being his own master.
He looked on the floor and then he looked at me, with a steady, earnest
gaze. "I should like well to tell you my story," he said. "I have been
ordered not to tell it, but I have resolved that when I should meet a
man to whom I should be moved to speak I would speak."
Now, I felt a very natural emotion of pride. My perception of objects
of interest was a quick and a correct one. "Speak on," I said, "I shall
be very glad to hear what you have to say."
He looked toward the open door. I arose and closed it. When I had
resumed my seat he drew his chair closer to me, leaned toward me, and
said:
"In the first place you should know that I am a materialized spirit."
I sat up, hard pressed against the back of my chair.
"Nay, start not," he said, "I am now as truly flesh and blood as you
are; but a short three weeks ago I was a spirit in the realms of endless
space. I know," he continued, "that my history is a sore thing to
inflict upon any man, and there are few to whom I would have broached
it, but I will make it brief. Three weeks ago these spiritualists held
privately in this town what they call a séance, and at that time I was
impelled, by a power I understood not, to appear among them. After I had
come it was supposed that a mistake had been made, and that I was not
the spirit wanted. In the temporary confusion occasioned by this
supposition, and while the attention of the exhibitors was otherwise
occupied, I was left exposed to the influence of the materializing
agencies for a much longer time than had been intended; so long,
indeed, that instead of remaining in the misty, indistinct form in which
spirits are presented by these men to their patrons, I became as
thoroughly embodied, as full of physical life and energy, and as
complete a mortal man as I was when I disappeared from this earth, one
hundred and two years ago."
"One hundred and two years!" I mechanically ejaculated. There was upon
me the impulse to get up and go where I could breathe the outer air; to
find my wife and talk to her about marketing or some household affair,
to get away from this being--human or whatever he was--but this was
impossible. That interest which dawned upon me when I first perceived my
visitor now held me as if it had been a spell.
"Yes," he said, "I deceased in 1785, being then in my thirtieth year. I
was a citizen of Bixbury, on the Massachusetts coast, but I am not
unconnected with this place. Old Mr. Scott, of your town, is my
grandson."
I am obliged to chronicle the fact that my present part in this
conversation consisted entirely of ejaculations. "Old Mr. Scott your
grandson!" I said.
"Yes," he replied; "my daughter, who was but two years old when I left
her, married Lemuel Scott, of Bixbury, who moved to this town soon after
old Mr. Scott was born. It was, indeed, on account of this good old man
that I became materialized. He was present at the private séance of
which I have spoken, and being asked if he would like to see a person
from the other world, he replied that he should be pleased to behold his
grandfather. When the necessary influences were set to work I appeared.
The spiritualists, who, without much thought, had conceived the idea
that the grandfather of old Mr. Scott ought, in the ordinary nature of
things, to be a very venerable personage, were disappointed when they
saw me, and concluded I was one who, by some mistake, had been
wrongfully summoned. They, therefore, set me aside, as it were, and
occupied themselves with other matters. Old Mr. Scott went away
unsatisfied, and strengthened in his disbelief in the powers of the
spiritualists, while I, as I have before said, was left unnoticed under
the power of the materializing force, until I was made corporeal as I am
now. When the spiritualists discovered what had happened they were much
disturbed, and immediately set about to dematerialize me, for it is not
their purpose or desire to cause departed spirits to again become
inhabitants of this world. But all their efforts were of no avail. I
remained as much a man as anyone of themselves. They found me in full
health and vigor, for I had never had a day's sickness in my life,
having come to my death by drowning while foolishly swimming too far
from land in a strong ebb tide, and my body, being carried out to sea,
was never recovered. Being thus put to their wit's end, they determined
to keep the matter privy, and to make the best of it, and the first
necessity was to provide me with clothing, for on my second entrance
into this world I was as totally without apparel as when I first came
into it. They gave me these garments of the ordinary fashion of the day,
but to which I find myself much unaccustomed, and enjoined upon me to
keep silent in regard to what had happened; fearing, as I was made aware
by some unguarded words, that their efforts to dematerialize me might
bring them into trouble."
My professional instincts now came to the front. "That would be murder,"
I said, "and nothing less."
"So I myself told them," he continued, "for I had come to the
determination that I would choose to finish out the life I had broken
off so suddenly. But they paid little heed to my words and continued
their experiments. But, as I have told you, their efforts were without
avail, and they have ceased to make further trial of dematerialization.
As, of course, it would be impossible to keep a full-grown man for any
considerable length of time secluded and unseen, they judged it wise to
permit me to appear as an ordinary human being; and having no other use
to which they could put me, they set me to selling tickets for them, and
in this business I have fared so badly that I shall restore to them
these that are left, and counsel them to seek another agent, I being of
detriment to them rather than profit. What may then happen I do not
know, for, as I told you, I am not my own master."
"I do not understand you," I said. "If you have been, in this
unparalleled manner, restored to your physical existence, surely you are
free to do as you please. What these spiritualists have done for you was
done by accident. They intended you no benefit, and they have no claim
upon you."
"That is true," he said, with a sigh, "but they have a hold upon me. It
was but yesterday that they informed me that, although, so far, they had
failed to restore me to what they call my normal spiritual existence,
they had every reason to believe that they soon would be able to do so.
A psychic scientist of Germany has discovered a process of
dematerialization, and they have sent to him for his formula. This, in a
short time, they expect to receive, and they assure me that they will
not hesitate to put it in force if I should cause them trouble. Now,
sir," he continued, and as he spoke there was a moisture about his eyes,
"I am very fond of life. I have been restored to that mortality from
which I was suddenly snatched by the cruel sea, and I do not wish to
lose it again until I have lived out my natural term of years. My family
is one of long life, and I feel that I have a right to fifty more years
of existence, and this strong desire for the natural remainder of my
life is that which gives these men their power over me. I was never a
coward, but I cannot but fear those who may at any moment cause this
form, these limbs, my physical state and life, to vanish like a
candle-flame blown out."
My sympathies were now strongly aroused in behalf of the subject of
these most extraordinary conditions. "That which you fear must not be
allowed," I said. "No man has the right to take away the life of
another, no matter what plan or method he may use. I will see the
spiritualists, and make it plain to them that what they threaten they
cannot be allowed to do."
The man arose. "Sir," he said, "I feel that I have truly found a
friend. Whatever may happen to me, I shall never forget your kindness to
a very stranger." He held out his hand, and I stood up by him and took
it. It was as much a flesh and blood hand as my own.
"What is your name?" I asked. "You have not yet told me that."
"I am Amos Kilbright, of Bixbury," he answered.
"You have not revisited your native place?" I said.
"No," he replied, "I much desire to do so, but I have no money for a
journey, even on foot, and I doubt me much if those men would suffer me
to go to Bixbury."
"And have you spoken to your grandson, old Mr. Scott?" I said. "It is
but right that you should make yourself known to him."
"So have I thought," he answered, "and I have felt an earnest drawing
toward my daughter's child. I have seen him thrice, but have not had the
heart to speak to him and declare myself the progenitor of that mother
whose memory I know he cherishes."
"You shall make yourself known to him," I said. "I will prepare the
way."
He shook me again by the hand and took his leave without a word. He was
deeply affected.
I reseated myself by my table, one thought after another rushing through
my mind. Had ever man heard a story such as this! What were all the
experiences of the members of the Society for Psychical Research, their
stories of apparitions, their instances of occult influences, their best
authenticated incidents of supernaturalism compared to this experience
of mine! Should I hasten and tell it all to my wife? I hesitated. If
what I had heard should not be true--and this, my first doubt or
suspicion impressed upon me how impossible to me had been doubt or
suspicion during the presence of my visitor--it would be wrong to
uselessly excite her mind. On the other hand, if I had heard nothing but
the truth, what would happen should she sympathize as deeply with Amos
Kilbright as I did, and then should that worthy man suddenly become
dematerialized, perhaps before her very eyes? No, I would not tell
her--at least not yet. But I must see the spiritualists. And that
afternoon I went to them.
The leader and principal worker of the men who were about to give a
series of spiritual manifestations in our town was Mr. Corbridge, a man
of middle-age with a large head and earnest visage. When I spoke to him
of Amos Kilbright he was very much annoyed.
"So he has been talking to you," he said, "and after all the warnings I
gave him! Well, he does that sort of thing at his own risk!"
"We all do things at our own risk," I said, "and he has as much right to
choose his line of conduct as anybody else."
"No, he hasn't," said Mr. Corbridge, "he belongs to us, and it is for us
to choose his line of conduct for him."
"That is nonsense," said I. "You have no more right over him than I
have."
"Now then," said Mr. Corbridge, his eyes beginning to sparkle, "I may as
well talk plainly to you. My associates and myself have considered this
matter very carefully. At first we thought that if this fellow should
tell his story we would simply pooh-pooh the whole of it, and let people
think he was a little touched in his mind, which would be so natural a
conclusion that everybody might be expected to come to it. But as we
have determined to dematerialize him, his disappearance would bring
suspicion upon us, and we might get into trouble if he should be
considered a mere commonplace person. So we decided to speak out
plainly, say what we had done, and what we were going to do, and thus
put ourselves at the head of the spirit operators of the world. But we
are not yet ready to do anything or to make our announcements, and if he
had held his tongue we might have given him a pretty long string."
"And do you mean," I said, "that you and your associates positively
intend to dematerialize Mr. Kilbright?"
"Certainly," he answered.
"Then, I declare such an act would be inhuman; a horrible crime."
"No," said Mr. Corbridge, "it would be neither. In the first place he
isn't human. It is by accident that he is what he is. But it was our
affair entirely, and it was a most wonderfully fortunate thing for us
that it happened. At first it frightened us a little, but we have got
used to it now, and we see the great opportunities that this entirely
unparalleled case will give us. As he is, he is of no earthly good to
anybody. You can't take a man out of the last century and expect him to
get on in any sort of business at the present day. He is too
old-fashioned. He doesn't know how we do things in the year eighteen
eighty-seven. We put this subject to work selling tickets just to keep
him occupied; but he can't even do that. But, as a spirit who can be
materialized or dematerialized whenever we please, he will be of the
greatest value to us. When a spirit has been brought out as strongly as
he has been it will be the easiest thing in the world to do it again.
Every time you bring one out the less trouble it is to make it appear
the next time you want it; and in this case the conditions are so
favorable that it will be absolute business suicide in us if we allow
ourselves to lose the chance of working it. So you see, sir, that we
have marked out our course, and I assure you that we intend to stick to
it."
"And I assure you," said I, rising to go, "that I shall make it my
business to interfere with your wicked machinations."
Mr. Corbridge laughed. "You'll find," he said, "that we have turned this
thing over pretty carefully, and we are ready for whatever the courts
may do. If we are charged with making away with anybody, we can, if we
like, make him appear, alive and well, before judge and jury. And then
what will there be to say against us? Besides, we are quite sure that no
laws can be found against bringing beings from the other world, or
sending them back into it, provided it can be proved by the subject's
admission, or in any other manner, that he really died once in a natural
way. You cannot be tried for causing a man's death a second time."
I was not prepared to make any answer on this point, but I went away
with a firm resolution to protect Amos Kilbright in the full enjoyment
of his reassumed physical existence, if the power of law, or any other
power, could do it.
The next morning Mr. Corbridge called on me at my office. "I shall be
very sorry," he said, "if any of my remarks of yesterday should cause
unpleasant feelings between us. We are desirous of being on good terms
with everybody, especially with members of the Society for Psychical
Research. You ought to work with us."
"We do not work with you," I replied, "nor ever shall. Our object is to
search earnestly and honestly into the subject of spiritual
manifestation, and not to make money out of unfortunate subjects of
experiment."
"You misunderstand us," said he, "but I am not going to argue the
question. I wish to be on good terms with you and to act fairly and
plainly all around. We find that we cannot make use of the
dematerialization process as soon as we expected, for the German
scientist who controls it has declined to send us his formula, but has
consented to come over and work it on this subject himself. His
engagements will not allow him to visit this country immediately, but
he is very enthusiastic about it, and he is bound to come before long.
Now, as you seem to be interested in this ex-Kilbright, we will make you
an offer. We will give him into your charge until we want him. He is of
no use to us, as he can't tell us anything about spiritual matters, his
present memory beginning just where it broke off when he sank in the
ocean in seventeen eighty-five, but he might be very useful to a man who
was inclined to study up old-time manners and customs. And so, if it
suits you, we will make him over to you, agreeing to give you three
days' notice before we take any measures to dematerialize him. We are
not afraid of your getting away with him, for our power over him will be
all the same, no matter where he is."
"I will have no man made over to me," said I, "and Mr. Kilbright being
his own master, can do with himself what he pleases; but, as I said
before, I shall protect him, and do everything in my power to thwart
your schemes against him. And you must remember he will have other
friends besides me. He has relatives in this town."
"None but old Mr. Scott, at least so far as I know," said Corbridge,
"and he need not expect any help from him, for that ancient personage
is a most arrant disbeliever in spiritualism."
And with this remark he took his leave.
That very afternoon came to me Amos Kilbright, his face shining with
pleasure. He greeted me warmly, and thanked me for having so kindly
offered to give him employment by which he might live and feel under
obligations to no man.
I had promised nothing of the kind, and my mind was filled with
abhorrence of such men as Corbridge, who would not only send a person
into the other world simply to gratify a scientific curiosity or for
purposes of profit, but would rehabilitate a departed spirit with all
his lost needs and appetites, and then foist him upon a comparative
stranger for care and sustenance. Such conduct was not only mean, but
criminal in its nature, and if there was no law against it, one ought to
be made.
Kilbright then proceeded to tell me how happy he had been when Corbridge
informed him that his dematerialization had been indefinitely postponed,
and that I had consented to take him into my service. "It is now plain
to me," he said, "that they have no power to do this thing and cannot
obtain it from others. This discardment of me proves that they have
abandoned their hopes."
It was evident that Corbridge had said nothing of the expected coming
of the German scientist, and I would not be cruel enough to speak of it
myself. Besides, I intended to have said scientist arrested and put
under bonds as soon as he set foot on our shores.
"I do not feel," continued Kilbright, "that I am beginning a new life,
but that I am taking up my old one at the point where I left it off."
"You cannot do that," I said. "Things have changed very much, and you
will have to adapt yourself to those changes. In many ways you must
begin again."
"I know that," he said, "and with respect to much that I see about me, I
am but a child. But as I am truly a man, I shall begin to do a man's
work, and what I know not of the things that are about me, that will I
learn as quickly as may be. It is my purpose, sir, to labor with you in
any manner which you may deem fit, and in which I may be found
serviceable until I have gained sufficient money to travel to Bixbury,
and there endeavor to establish myself in some worthy employment. I had
at that place a small estate, but of that I shall take no heed. Without
doubt it has gone, rightly, to my heirs, and even if I could deprive
them of it I would not."
"Have you living heirs besides your grandson here?" I asked.
"That I know not," he said; "but if there be such I greatly long to see
them."
"And how about old Mr. Scott?" said I. "When shall we go to him and tell
him who you are?"
"I greatly desire that that may be done soon," answered Kilbright, "but
first I wish to establish myself in some means of livelihood, so that he
may not think that I come to him for maintenance."
Of course it was not possible for me to turn this man away and tell him
I had nothing for him to do, and therefore I must devise employment for
him. I found that he wrote a fair hand, a little stiff and labored, but
legible and neat, and as I had a good deal of copying to do I decided to
set him to work upon this. I procured board and lodging for him in a
house near by, and a very happy being was Amos Kilbright.
As for me I felt that I was doing my duty, and a good work. But the
responsibility was heavy, and my road was not at all clear before me. My
principal source of anxiety was in regard to my wife. Should I tell her
the truth about my new copyist, or not? In the course of a night I
resolved this question and determined to tell her everything. When the
man was merely Mr. Corbridge's subject the case was different; but to
have daily in my office a clerk who had been drowned one hundred and two
years before, and not tell Mrs. Colesworthy of it would be an injustice
to her.
When I first made known to her the facts of the case my wife declared
that she believed "Psychics" had turned my brain; but when I offered to
show her the very man who had been materialized, she consented to go
down and look at him. I informed Kilbright that my wife knew his story,
and we three had a long and very interesting conversation. After an
hour's talk, during which my wife asked a great many questions which I
should never have thought of, we went upstairs and left Kilbright to his
work.
"His story is a most wonderful one," said Mrs. Colesworthy, "but I don't
believe he is a materialized spirit, because the thing is impossible.
Still it will not do to make any mistakes, and we must try all we can to
help him in case he was drowned when he says he was, and that German
comes over to end his mortal career a second time. Science is getting to
be such a wicked thing that I am sure if he crosses the ocean on purpose
to dematerialize Mr. Kilbright, he will try to do it in some way or
other, whether the poor man was ever a spirit before or not. One thing,
however, is certain, I want to be present when old Mr. Scott is told
that that young man is his grandfather."
Mr. Kilbright worked very assiduously, and soon proved himself of
considerable use to me. When he had lived in Bixbury he had been a
surveyor and a farmer, and now when he finished his copying duties for
the day, or when I had no work of that kind ready for him, it delighted
him much to go into my garden and rake and hoe among the flowers and
vegetables. I frequently walked with him about the town, showing and
explaining to him the great changes that had taken place since the
former times in which he had lived. But he was not impressed by these
things as I expected him to be.
"It seems to me," he said, "as though I were in a foreign country, and I
look upon what lies about me as if everything had always been as I see
it. This town is so different from anything I have ever known that I
cannot imagine it has changed from a condition which was once familiar
to me. At Bixbury, however, I think the case will be otherwise. If there
are changes there I shall notice them. In a little place like that,
however, I have hopes that the changes will not be great."
He was very conservative, and I could see that in many cases he thought
the old ways of doing things much better than the new ones. He was,
however, a polite and sensible man, and knew better than to make
criticisms to one who had befriended him; but in some cases he could not
conceal his disapprobation. He had seen a train of cars before I met
him, and I was not able to induce him to approach again a railroad
track. Whatever other feelings he may have had at first sight of a train
in motion were entirely swallowed up in his abhorrence of this mode of
travelling.
"We must not be in a hurry," said my wife when we talked of these
matters. "When he gets more accustomed to these things he will be more
surprised at them."
There were some changes, however, which truly did astonish him, and
these were the alterations--in his opinion entirely uncalled for and
unwarrantable--which had been made in the spelling of the words of our
language since he had gone to school. No steam-engine, no application of
electricity, none of the modern inventions which I showed him, caused
him the emotions of amazement which were occasioned by the information
that in this country "honor" was now spelled without a u.
During this time Mr. Kilbright's interest in his grandson seemed to be
on the increase. He would frequently walk past the house of that old
gentleman merely for the purpose of looking at him as he sat by the open
window reading his newspaper or quietly smoking his evening pipe on a
bench in his side yard. When he had been with me about ten days he said:
"I now feel that I must go and make myself known to my grandson. I am
earning my own subsistence; and, however he may look upon me, he need
not fear that I am come to be a burden upon him. You will not wonder,
sir, that I long to meet with this son of the little baby girl I left
behind me."
I did not wonder, and my wife and I agreed to go with him that very
evening to old Mr. Scott's house. The old gentleman received us very
cordially in his little parlor.
"You are a stranger in this town, sir," he said to Kilbright. "I did not
exactly catch your name--Kilbright?" he said, when it had been repeated
to him, "that is one of my family names, but it is long since I have
heard of anyone bearing it. My mother was a Kilbright, but she had no
brothers, and no uncles of the name. My grandfather was the last of our
branch of the Kilbrights. His name was Amos, and he was a Bixbury man.
From what part of the country do you come, sir?"
"My name is Amos, and I was born in Bixbury."
Old Mr. Scott sat up very straight in his chair. "Young man, that seems
to me impossible!" he exclaimed. "How could there be any Kilbrights in
Bixbury and I not know of it?" Then taking a pair of big silver
spectacles from his pocket he put them on and attentively surveyed his
visitor, whose countenance during this scrutiny was filled with emotion.
Presently the old gentleman took off his spectacles and, rising from his
chair, went into another room. Quickly returning, he brought with him a
small oil-painting in a narrow, old-fashioned frame. He stood it up on a
table in a position where a good light from the lamp fell upon it. It
was the portrait of a young man with a fresh, healthy face, dressed in
an old-style high-collared coat, with a wide cravat coming up under his
chin, and a bit of ruffle sticking out from his shirt-bosom. My wife and
I gazed at it with awe.
"That," said old Mr. Scott, "is the picture of my grandfather, Amos
Kilbright, taken at twenty-five. He was drowned at sea some years
afterward, but exactly how I do not know. My mother did not remember
him at all. And I must say," he continued, putting on his spectacles
again, "that there is something of a family likeness between you, sir,
and that picture. If it wasn't for the continental clothes in the
painting there would be a good deal of resemblance--yes, a very great
deal."
"It is my portrait," said Mr. Kilbright, his voice trembling as he
spoke. "It was painted by Tatlow Munson in the winter of seventeen
eighty, in payment for my surveying a large tract of land north of the
town, he having no money to otherwise compensate me. He wrote his name
in ink upon the back of the canvas."
Old Mr. Scott took up the picture and turned it around. And there we all
saw plainly written upon the time-stained back, "Tatlow Munson, 1780."
Old Mr. Scott laid the picture upon the table, took off his spectacles,
and with wide-open eyes gazed first at Mr. Kilbright and then at us.
The sight of the picture had finished the conversion of my wife. "Oh,
Mr. Scott," she cried, leaning so far forward in her chair that it
seemed as if she were about to go down on her knees before the old man,
"this gentleman is your grandfather! Yes, he is, indeed! Oh, don't
discard him, for it was you who were the cause of his being here. Don't
you remember when you went to the spiritualist meeting, and asked to see
the spirit of your grandfather? That spirit came, but you didn't know
it. The people who materialized him were surprised when they saw this
young man, and they thought he couldn't be your grandfather, and so they
didn't say anything about it; and they left him right in the middle of
whatever they use, and he kept on materializing without their thinking
of him until he became just what you see him now. And if he now wore
old-fashioned clothes with a queue, he would be the exact image of that
portrait of him which you have, only a little bit older looking and
fuller in the face. But the spiritualists made him cut off his long
hair, because they said that wouldn't do in these days, and dressed him
in those common clothes just like any other person. And oh, dear Mr.
Scott, you must see for yourself that he is truly your grandfather!"
Old Mr. Scott made no answer, but still sat with wide-open eyes gazing
from one to the other of us. As I looked at that aged, white-haired man
and thought of his mother, who must have died ever so long ago, being
the daughter of the young man who sat opposite to him, it was indeed
difficult to believe that these things could be so.
"Mr. Scott," exclaimed my wife, "will you not speak to him? Will you
not give him your hand? Will you not acknowledge him as your
grandfather, whose picture you have always had near you, and which, when
a little boy, I expect your dear mother has often told you to look up to
and try to be like? And if you have grown old, and he has not, on
account of differences in circumstances, why should that make any
difference in your feelings, dear Mr. Scott? Oh, why don't you let him
take you to his heart? I don't see how you can help it," she said, with
a sob, "and you his little daughter's only child!"
Old Mr. Scott rose to his feet. He pulled down the sleeves of his coat,
and gave an adjusting shake to its collar and lapels. Then he turned to
my wife and said: "Madam, let us two dance a Virginia reel while your
husband and that other one take the poker and tongs and beat out the
music on the shovel. We might as well be durned fools one way as
another, and all go to the lunatic asylum together."
Now arose Mr. Kilbright to his feet, and stood up very tall. "Grandson
Lemuel," he said, "I leave not your house in anger. I see well that too
heavy a task has been laid upon your declining years when you are asked
to believe that which you have heard to-day. But I wish you to know
that I am here to ask nothing of you save that you will give me your
hand. I earnestly crave that I may again touch one of my own flesh and
blood."
Old Mr. Scott picked up the portrait and looked at it. Then he laid it
down and looked at Mr. Kilbright. "Young man," said he, "can you stand
there and put your hand upon your heart, and say to me that you are
truly Amos Kilbright, my mother's father, who was drowned in the last
century, and who was brought back and turned into a live man by those
spiritualists; and that you are willing to come here and let yourself be
vouched for by Mr. and Mrs. Colesworthy, who belong to some sort of
society of that kind and ought to know about such things?"
I was on the point of remarking that the Society for Psychical Research
had nothing to do with spiritualism except to investigate it, but my
wife saw my intention and checked me.
Mr. Kilbright put his hand upon his heart and bowed. "What you have
heard is true," he said. "On my honor, I swear it."
"Then, grandfather," said old Mr. Scott, "here is my hand. It doesn't do
to doubt things in these days. I didn't believe in the telephone when
they first told me of it, but when I had a talk with Squire Braddon
through a wire, and heard his new boots creak as he came up to see who
it was wanted him, and he in his own house a good two miles away, I gave
in. 'Fetch on your wonders,' says I, 'I am ready.' And I don't suppose I
ought to be any more dumfounded at seeing my grandfather than at any of
the other wonders. I'm getting too old now to try to find out the whys
and the wherefores of the new things that turn up every day. I must just
take them as they come. And so if you, grandfather Kilbright, and our
good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Colesworthy, will come into the back room
we'll have a cup of tea, and a talk over old times. To be sure, there
will be some gaps which none of us will be able to get over, but we must
do the best we can."
After this Mr. Kilbright and his grandson saw a good deal of each other,
and the old gentleman always treated his mother's father with the
respectful deference which was due to such a relative.
"There are times," he once said to me, "when this grandfather business
looks to me about as big and tough as anything that any human being was
ever called on to swallow. But then I consider that you and Mrs.
Colesworthy have looked into these matters, and I haven't, and that
knowin' nothin' I ought to say nothin'; and if it ever happens to look
particularly tough, I just call to mind the telephone and Squire
Braddon's creaking boots, and that settles it."
Mr. Kilbright became more and more useful to me, particularly after he
had disciplined his mind to the new style of spelling. And when he had
been with me about a month I insisted that he should take a holiday and
visit Bixbury, for I knew that to do this was the great desire of his
heart. He could easily reach his native place by rail, but believing
that he would rather not go at all than travel on a train, I procured a
saddle-horse for him, and when I had given him full directions as to the
roads, he set out.
In four days he returned. "How did you find Bixbury?" I asked of him.
"There is no longer such a place," he answered, sadly. "I found a town
of that name, but it is not the Bixbury in which I was born. That has
utterly disappeared."
And, after this, he never again alluded to his native place.
The high character and many admirable qualities of this man daily
increased the affectionate regard and esteem in which he was held by my
wife and myself; and feeling that we could do nothing better for him
than to endeavor to make him forget the things of the past, and take a
lively and earnest interest in those of the present, we set ourselves to
work upon this task. In a great degree our efforts were successful, and
we soon perceived that Mr. Kilbright cared more and more for what he saw
about him. It was, indeed, natural that he should do this, for he was
still a young man, and able to adapt himself to changes in his
surroundings.
As I have said, he gradually did so adapt himself, and in the course of
the autumn this adaptation took a form which at first amused Mrs.
Colesworthy and myself, and afterward enlisted our hearty sympathy. He
became attached to Miss Budworth, the librarian of our town library. He
frequently went there for books, and as she was a very intelligent young
woman, and very willing to aid him in his selections, it was not strange
that he should become interested in her. Very often he would remain at
the library until it closed in the evening, when he would walk to her
home with her, discoursing upon literary and historical subjects.
My wife and I discussed this situation very thoroughly. Lilian Budworth
was a good girl, a sensible one, and a very good-looking one. Her family
was highly respectable and her years well proportioned to those of Mr.
Kilbright. There seemed to be, therefore, no reason why this intimacy
should not be encouraged. But yet we talked over the matter night after
night.
"You see," said my wife, "it all seems plain and simple enough; but, on
the other hand, it isn't. In the first place, she does not know that he
has had a wife, or what old Mr. Scott is to him. He has promised us that
he will never say anything to anybody about having lived in the last
century without first consulting us; and old Mr. Scott has said over and
over again that he doesn't intend to speak of it; and the spiritualists
have left town long ago; so, of course, she knows nothing about it. But,
if things go on, she must be told, and what will happen then, I would
like to know!"
"I am very sorry, indeed, that I cannot tell you," I answered.
"It would be a queer case, anyway," Mrs. Colesworthy continued. "Mr.
Kilbright has had a wife, but he never was a widower. Now, having been
married, and never having been a widower, it would seem as if he ought
not to marry again. But his first wife is dead now, there can be no
doubt about that."
It was not long before there was no further need for suppositions in
regard to this matter, for Mr. Kilbright came to us and announced that
he had determined to offer himself in marriage to Miss Budworth.
"I think it is meet and proper," he said, "that I should wed and take
that position at the head of a family which a right-minded and
respectable man of my age should fill. I reasoned thus when for the
first time I took upon me this pleasing duty, and these reasons have now
the self-same weight as then. I have been studying the surveying methods
of the present day, and I believe I could re-establish myself in my
former profession. Thus could I maintain a wife, if, happily, I get
her."
"Get her!" exclaimed Mrs. Colesworthy, "of course you will get her! She
can't help accepting you."
"I should feel the more hope, madam," said Mr. Kilbright, "were it not
requisite that she be informed of all that has happened to me. And all
this must she know before I require her to make answer to me."
"I must admit," I said, "that I am afraid you are going to have a tough
job."
"I don't believe it!" warmly exclaimed my wife. "Lilian Budworth is a
girl of good, solid sense, and when she knows just exactly what has
happened, it is my opinion she will not object a bit."
"Madam," said Mr. Kilbright, "you greatly embolden me, and I shall speak
to Miss Budworth this very day."
Notwithstanding my wife's confidence in Miss Lilian's good sense, she
was as much surprised as I when, the next morning, Mr. Kilbright
informed us that he had been accepted. As it was yet an hour before the
library would open, she hurried around to Miss Budworth's home to know
all about it.
The young lady was found, pale, but very happy. "When he left me last
night," she said, "my mind was in a strange hubbub. He had told me that
he loved me, and had asked me to marry him, and my heart would not let
me say anything but 'yes;' and yet, after he had gone, his wondrous
story came up before me as it had not come when he told it, having just
told something else. I did not sleep all night, thinking of it. I have
read and pondered a great deal upon these subjects, but have never been
able to make up my mind whether or not to put faith in the strange
spiritual manifestations of which we are told. So I determined, a good
while ago, not to consider the matter at all. I could do nothing with
it, and it would be better that I should let it alone. To this same
determination I came early this morning in the case of Mr. Kilbright.
None of us know what we may once have been, nor what we may become. All
we know is what we are. Mr. Kilbright may be mistaken as to what he was,
but I know what he is. And to that man I give myself as I am. I am
perfectly satisfied with the present."
Mrs. Colesworthy enfolded her in an approbatory embrace, and hurried
home to tell me about it. "There now!" she exclaimed, "didn't I say that
Lilian Budworth was a girl of good, sound common-sense?"
"That is what you said," I answered, "but I must admit that I was afraid
her common-sense would interfere with her acceptance of his story. We
had outside evidence in regard to it, but she had only his simple
statement."
"Which is quite enough, when a woman truly loves," said Mrs.
Colesworthy.
When old Mr. Scott was informed what had happened, he put down his
newspaper, took off his spectacles, and smiled a strange, wide smile. "I
have been reading," he said, "about a little machine, or box, that you
can talk into and then cork up and send by mail across the ocean to
anybody you know there. And then he can uncork it, and out will come
all you have said in your very words and voice, with the sniffles and
sneezes that might have got in accidental. So that if one of the Old
Testament Egyptians that they've been diggin' up lately had had one of
these boxes with him it might have been uncorked and people could have
heard in his own voice just who he was and what was his personal opinion
of Moses and his brother Aaron. Now, when an old man like me has just
come to know of a thing of this kind, it isn't for him to have a word to
say when he is told that Lilian Budworth is to be his step-grandmother;
he must take it in along with the other wonders."
As to Mr. Kilbright and his lady-love they troubled themselves about no
wonders. Life was very real to them, and very delightful; and they were
happy. Despite her resolutions to give no consideration whatever to her
lover's previous existence, Miss Budworth did consider it a good deal,
and talked and thought about it, and at last came to understand and
appreciate the fact as thoroughly as did Mrs. Colesworthy and myself;
and she learned much more of Mr. Kilbright's former life than his
modesty had allowed him to tell us. And some of these things she related
with much pride. He had been a soldier during the Revolution, having
enlisted, at the age of twenty-three, under General Sullivan, when his
forces lay near Newport. He afterward followed that commander in his
Indian campaigns in Western New York, and served during the rest of the
war. It was when the army was in winter quarters in 1780 that Tatlow
Munson painted his portrait in payment of an old debt. Miss Budworth's
glowing rendition of Mr. Kilbright's allusions to some of the
revolutionary incidents in which he had had a part, made us proud to
shake hands with a man who had fought for our liberties and helped to
give us the independence which we now enjoy.
Mr. Kilbright's business prospects soon began to look promising. As was
quite natural, his ideas upon some subjects were a little antiquated.
But, although many of the changes and improvements he saw about him met
with no favor in his eyes, he had sense enough to take advantage of
certain modern progressive ideas, especially such as related to his
profession of surveying. My introduction of him as a friend from Bixbury
helped him much in respect to patronage, and having devoted all his
spare time during the autumn and winter to study and the formation of
business connections, he secured enough profitable employment for the
coming season to justify him in taking to himself a wife; and his
marriage with Miss Budworth was appointed for the middle of April.