Amos Kilbright | Page 9

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