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Amateur Correspondent, v. 2, issue 2, September-October 1937
Page 5
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SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER, 1937 5 husband, and their two children had gone to spend the evening at the movies. Selby unlocked the front door and motioned for the panhandler to follow him in. Then he pressed the electric switch to flood the parlor with glaring light. Hearing a gasp from the stranger, he turned to find hm shrinking against the wall, pale and trembling, his wide eyes staring at the chandelier. "What a queer duck!" thought Selby to himself as he led the way to the kitchen after the stranger had pulled himself together. Having fried some eggs and heated a pan of peas-in-sauce for the stranger, Selby watched him wolf the simple meal down as though famished. Judging by the way his staring eyes took in the details of the room, Selby surmised he must be either fearful of something or completely bewildered. Could the man be an escaped criminal? Or a lunatic at large? Or possibly just a pitiful victim of amnesia? "God bless you, good sir!" said the stranger, arising from the table.. "Don't mention it." shrugged Selby. "Now if you'd care to come into the parlor and take it easy for a few minutes...." Selby had suddenly made a resolve to find out more about the man. As they sat across from one another in parlor chairs in the soft light of a shaded lamp, Selby switched on the radio, speaking at the same time: "If you won't consider me too inquisitive, just who are you and how is it you're in a neighborhood you don't recognize?" The stranger suddenly tensed and again turned ashy as a wailing voice of a crooner, muted in volume by Selby's hand, came from the radio cabinet. Staring at the cabinet, he listened a moment and then sprang to his feet. "God have mercy on my poor soul!" he shouted. "What land of magic is this? Here am I, Ebenezer Wayland, honest merchant of Boston, now lost in an eldritch land where the sun answers at the push of a finger, and where ghostly voices sigh from wooden boxes! A God-fearing and King-loving man am I, that goes to Mass regularly. What penance is this for a pious man?" Calming himself with an effort, he went on to explain: "I was on my travels, desiring to see other cities of the Colonies. I remember---I was walking down a lonely road at night near Philadelphia. Friends awaited me to take me to their home. Suddenly, there was a roaring of wind, a howling of demons. Indians were attacking me! I saw an uplifted tomahawk; I fell, groaning! When I regained my sense, I saw you approaching me in the gloom. But the forest, the Indians, the surrondings I knew, had disappeared! And now---good God!--- where am I?" Of course Selby called the Dunning Insane Asylum and delivered to them a shrinking, muttering creature, who answered nothing to the queries put to him, but merely stared blankly and babbled incoherently. Interested in the case, Selby asked the Dunning officials to keep him informed about their new patient. A week later they called and told him the man had escaped; had escaped from a padded cell, locked and barred! And when Selby looked for the three cornered hat that had fallen from the man when they took him away from his house---it too was gone. May we have your subscription to the Correspondent? It's only a quarter.
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SEPTEMBER-OCTOBER, 1937 5 husband, and their two children had gone to spend the evening at the movies. Selby unlocked the front door and motioned for the panhandler to follow him in. Then he pressed the electric switch to flood the parlor with glaring light. Hearing a gasp from the stranger, he turned to find hm shrinking against the wall, pale and trembling, his wide eyes staring at the chandelier. "What a queer duck!" thought Selby to himself as he led the way to the kitchen after the stranger had pulled himself together. Having fried some eggs and heated a pan of peas-in-sauce for the stranger, Selby watched him wolf the simple meal down as though famished. Judging by the way his staring eyes took in the details of the room, Selby surmised he must be either fearful of something or completely bewildered. Could the man be an escaped criminal? Or a lunatic at large? Or possibly just a pitiful victim of amnesia? "God bless you, good sir!" said the stranger, arising from the table.. "Don't mention it." shrugged Selby. "Now if you'd care to come into the parlor and take it easy for a few minutes...." Selby had suddenly made a resolve to find out more about the man. As they sat across from one another in parlor chairs in the soft light of a shaded lamp, Selby switched on the radio, speaking at the same time: "If you won't consider me too inquisitive, just who are you and how is it you're in a neighborhood you don't recognize?" The stranger suddenly tensed and again turned ashy as a wailing voice of a crooner, muted in volume by Selby's hand, came from the radio cabinet. Staring at the cabinet, he listened a moment and then sprang to his feet. "God have mercy on my poor soul!" he shouted. "What land of magic is this? Here am I, Ebenezer Wayland, honest merchant of Boston, now lost in an eldritch land where the sun answers at the push of a finger, and where ghostly voices sigh from wooden boxes! A God-fearing and King-loving man am I, that goes to Mass regularly. What penance is this for a pious man?" Calming himself with an effort, he went on to explain: "I was on my travels, desiring to see other cities of the Colonies. I remember---I was walking down a lonely road at night near Philadelphia. Friends awaited me to take me to their home. Suddenly, there was a roaring of wind, a howling of demons. Indians were attacking me! I saw an uplifted tomahawk; I fell, groaning! When I regained my sense, I saw you approaching me in the gloom. But the forest, the Indians, the surrondings I knew, had disappeared! And now---good God!--- where am I?" Of course Selby called the Dunning Insane Asylum and delivered to them a shrinking, muttering creature, who answered nothing to the queries put to him, but merely stared blankly and babbled incoherently. Interested in the case, Selby asked the Dunning officials to keep him informed about their new patient. A week later they called and told him the man had escaped; had escaped from a padded cell, locked and barred! And when Selby looked for the three cornered hat that had fallen from the man when they took him away from his house---it too was gone. May we have your subscription to the Correspondent? It's only a quarter.
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