""Most all his spare time Doc put in readin" them Shakespeare books, and sometime he"d git a new one. One day he come home mad. I ain"t seen Doc real mad but twice, but he was mad that day and no mistake. He"d got a new book, an" he set down to read it as soon as he got in the house; but every 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" up an" down his room, mad as a wet hen, and by and by I heard that book go rattlin" out of the window and plunk down in the radish bed. So next morning 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 Doc up so. It was jist another Shakespeare book, only this one said that it wasn"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 idea how much Doc had took it to heart.
"Well, I do run on terribul when I git started, don"t I? An" them supper dishes waitin" to be washed! But I guess it won"t hurt them to stand a bit. You see, when Doc begun to take a likin" for me, the poor feller started in to talk about what he believed in. Most fellers does. First he begun about greenbacks. He was the only Greenbacker in Kilo; but that was 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 what I did on that, so long as he wasn"t a saloon Democrat. That was when they was havin" the prohibition fight in Ioway, you know. But when Doc begun lettin" out hints that he didn"t think much of goin" to church, I was 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 jist one of these lazy Christians that don"t attend church lest they"re dragged. There is plenty sich. I thought mebby I could bring him round all right once he was married; so I jist asked him right out if he would jine church.
"Well, you"d have thought I"d asked him to take poison! He didn"t flare up like some would, but jist sat down and explained how he couldn"t. I guess he must have explained, off an" on, for three weeks before I got a good hang of his idea. Seems like he was believing some Hindoo stuff jist 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, until kingdom come. R"inca"nation"s what they call it."
"Yes," said Eliph" Hewlitt, "it is all given in "India, Its Religions and Its History," in Jarby"s Encyclopedia of Knowledge and Compendium of Literature, Science and Art."
"Jist so!" said Mrs. Weaver. "Well, I guess by the time Doc got done explainin" I knew more about r"inca"nation than what your Encyclopedia of Compendium does, because night after night Doc would sit up and explain till I"d drop off asleep.
"But it wasn"t no use. So far as I could see, r"inca"nation was jist plain error and follerin" after false G.o.ds, and I told Doc so. Anyhow, I knowed there wan"t nothin" like it in the Methodist Church, an" I jist up 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 "I won"t!" and that settled it. I believe a man and wife ought to belong to the same church,--"thy G.o.d shall be my G.o.d"--and I wasn"t goin" to give up 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 at it. I told him in plain words he would be better off rollin" allopathy pills. I used to git right put out with Doc sometimes, foolin" away good time that way, sittin" round by the hour spoilin" good paper. I reckon he started close onto a thousand poems, but he didn"t git along very good. "Bout the their line he"d stop and tear up what he"d wrote. When I 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 of ridiculous to see him.
"One day I asked Doc why he didn"t tell ma and the rest of Kilo what he believed in, and he said that Kilo folks couldn"t understand sich things, bein" mostly born and bred in the Methodist Church, and not lib"ral like he was. I seen he was payin" me a compliment, because he had told me, but I couldn"t swaller r"inca"nation, for all that. And so we didn"t seem to git no further.
"But one day Doc says, "Well, Loreny, WHY can"t you marry me? They ain"t no one can love you like I do, and you know I"ll make you a good husband, 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 a man 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"m willing enough to marry YOU, but I ain"t willing to marry some old heathen 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 when you 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"d like 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"d hit him purty hard. Then he kind of stiffened up.
""Loreny," he says, "I"d have thought you"d have believed my spirit to be a little better than a heathen Chinee"s," he says, "though there"s much worse folks than what they are."
"I seen he was put out, an" I hadn"t meant to hurt his feelings, so I says, more gentle, "Well, Doc, if you ain"t that, what are you?"
"I s"pose, Mr. Hewlitt, you"ve noticed how sometimes something you find out will make clear to you a lot of things you couldn"t make head nor tail of before. That"s the way what Doc said did for me. There was that poetry writin" of his, an" the way that Shakespeare book made him mad, an" how he read those Shakespeare books instead of his Mateery Med.i.c.ky volumes.
"Well, I asked Doc, "If you ain"t a heathen Chinee or some sich, what are you?" an" when he answered you could have knocked me down with a wisp of hay. You"d never guess, no more than I did.
""Loreny," he says, solemn as a deacon, "I didn"t reckon never to tell n.o.body, an" you mustn"t judge what I tell you too quick. I ain"t made up my mind sudden-like," he says, "but have studied myself and what I like and 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 voice go way down low, like he was "most afraid to say it hisself. "Loreny, I believe that Shakespeare"s spirit has transmigrated into me."
"Well, sir, I was too taken aback to say a word. I thought Doc had gone crazy. But he hadn"t.
"When I kind of got my senses back I riled up right away. "Well," I says snappy, "I think when you was pickin" out someone to be you might have picked out someone better. From all I"ve heard, Shakespeare wasn"t no better than he"d ought to have been. He don"t suit me no better than a Chinee would, and I hain"t no fancy to marry Mister Shakespeare. Maybe you 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 one thing 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 a peac.o.c.k. But I cried "most all night.
"Him an" me kind of stood off from each other after that, and I made up my mind I"d die before I"d marry Doc so long as he was Shakespeare, and Doc had got the notion that he was Shakespeare so set in his mind it seemed 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 see what 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 there was one long poem about Venus and some young feller--well, I shouldn"t thing the gov"ment would allow sich things printed! I jist knowed Doc couldn"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 come to town and give a lecture in the dance room over the grocery. He was one of these spiritualism fellers, and as soon as it was noised around that he was comin", I knowed Doc would be the first man to go and the last to come away, and he was. Thinks I, "Let him go. If Doc jines in with spiritualists, it will be better"n what he believes in now, and if he begins changin" religions, mebby I can keep him changin", and change him 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 I expected.
"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 and seemed 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 did was to talk and take up a collection. He said he was a new beginner and used to be a Presbyterian minister. Doc stayed after it was over and had a 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 ma told me he had jined the spiritualists I eased up a litt, and one day I made bold to say, "Well, Doc, I s"pose now you have give up that Shakespeare 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 at once in religion, as well as bein" Shakespeare and Doc Weaver?"
""Yes, Loreny," he says. "The spirit has got to be somewheres between the times it has got a body," he says, "That stands to reason. It"s always puzzled me where I was between the time I died two or three hundred years ago and the time I entered this body," he says, "and spiritualism makes it all clear. I was floatin" in s.p.a.ce."
"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 business at the same time.
"I says, "Well, Doc, some day you"ll see how deep in error you are," and I didn"t say no more.
"Of course Doc wouldn"t let well-enough alone. There was a big spiritualist over to Peory, Illinoy, a reg"lar ghost-raisin" feller, and what did Doc do but write over and git him to come to Kilo and give a seance. That is a meetin" where they raise up ghosts. Doc wanted the feller to stop at our house, but I wouldn"t have it, so he had to put up at the hotel. Doc said it was a shame, but as soon as I seen the man I said it served him right, and that he was a fraud, but Doc swallered him right down, hide an" hoof.
"They had the seance in the hotel parlor, and no charge, so me and ma went, thought we wasn"t jist sure it was right; but I says it wasn"t as if it was real--we knowed it was all foolishness; so ma and me trotted along. I found out afterward that Doc paid to have the feller come to Kilo. His name was Moller, an" he was one of them long-haired greasy-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 held ma"s, and Doc was right in front of us.
"Moller did a lot of tricks sich as I hear they always do, an" then he said he"d bring up any spirits anyone would like to have come up. That was 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. Which one do you want to speak to, brother?"
""The one that lived when Shakespeare did," says Doc. "The one that wrote the essays and sich. Sir Francis Bacon."
""Ah, yes!" says Moller. "I"ll see if he"s willin" to say anyting to-night." And down he set into a chair. Well, you"d have died! In a bit his head and legs begun to jerk like he had St. Vitus dance, and then he straightened out, stiff as a broomstick. It was the silliest thing ever I 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 of jerky-like.