He's not above forty-five, I should say; but I'm no judge of age
after folks are forty, I'm so afraid of putting my foot in it. He's much
bigger than me (I'm talking about appearance now). He gives one the
impression of quick blue eyes. I can't remember any more about him; I
remember every word he said, but not how he looked when he said it. And
now I suppose you want to know all he said; you have an Examining
Board's thirst for information, Mrs. Marcella! But I'm sending you the
printed lectures and some news. He told me he's going to Harvard this
year. In fact, he's there now; and after that he's on his way to
Australia. I gather that you're a wandering Jew's journey from Sydney,
but wouldn't it be worth your while to take that man of yours and go to
hear him? It isn't often one gets a chance of seeing in the flesh
someone who has got into your imagination as Kraill got into yours and
mine. I'd walk all the way from Carlossie to Edinburgh to hear him
again. It makes me sad, sometimes, to think how little chance we
doctors in practice, with all our responsibilities and opportunities,
have of getting this heaping up of wisdom that comes to men like Kraill.
Measles and rheumatics, confinements and bronchitis take up all our
time, and when we get a man like poor Andrew your father, something out
of the ordinary, appealing to us for healing, we give him digitalis or
Epsom-salts for the elixir of life. We do our best, but it's bad--very
bad. When I talked to Kraill that day I kept thinking of your father. I
kept thinking he'd have been alive to-day if he could have caught on to
Kraill's philosophy. I feel small, Marcella. I honestly hadn't the
brains, the knowledge, to do anything for your father. I talked to
Kraill about it. He said something very kind and very queer about the
socialization of knowledge. I didn't quite catch on to it at the time,
but thinking it out afterwards it seemed to me that he meant knowledge
was not to be a Holy of Holies sort of thing, a jealous mystery, an
aristocratic thing, any more; but be spread broadcast, so that everyone
could have wisdom and healing and clear thinking. And after all, isn't
healing, more than anything else, merely clear thinking? I hate the
waste of people, you know. I hate that people should rot and die. I feel
personally affronted when I think about your father, and some days--I
strongly suspect it's when my liver's out of order--I worry about your
young son. But by the tim