t think. Stop thinking.
Stop being a quahaug--a dead one, anyway. Drop the whole business, drop
Bayport, drop America, if you like. Get up, clear out, go to China, go
to Europe, go to--Well, never mind, but go somewhere. Go somewhere and
forget it. Travel, take a long trip, start for one place and, if you
change your mind before you get there, go somewhere else. It doesn't
make much difference where, so that you go, and see different things.
I'm talking now, Kent Knowles, and it isn't altogether because it pays
us to publish your books, either. You drop Bayport and drop writing. Go
out and pick up and go. Stay six months, stay a year, stay two years,
but keep alive and meet people and give what you flatter yourself is
a brain house-cleaning. Confound you, you've kept it shut like one of
these best front parlors down here. Open the windows and air out. Let
the outside light in. An idea may come with it; it is barely possible,
even to you!"

He was out of breath by this time. I was in a somewhat similar condition
for his tirade had taken mine away. However, I managed to express my
feelings.

"Humph!" I grunted. "And so this is your wonderful prescription. I am to
travel, am I?"

"You are. You can afford it, and I'll see that you do."

"And just what port would you recommend?"

"I don't care, I tell you, except that it ought to be a long way off.
I'm not joking, Kent; this is straight. A good long jaunt around the
world would do you a barrel of good. Don't stop to think about it, just
start, that's all. Will you?"

I laughed. The idea of my starting on a pleasure trip was ridiculous. If
ever there was a home-loving and home-staying person it was I. The bare
thought of leaving my comfort and my books and Hephzy made me shudder. I
hadn't the least desire to see other countries and meet other people. I
hated sleeping cars and railway trains and traveling acquaintances. So I
laughed.

"Sorry, Jim," I said, "but I'm afraid I can't take your prescription."

"Why not?"

"For one reason because I don't want to."

"That's no reason at all. It doesn't make any difference what you want.
Anything else?"

"Yes. I would no more wander about creation all alone than--"

"Take someone with you."

"Who? Will you go, yourself?"

He shook his head.

"I wish I could," he said, and I think he meant it. "I'd like nothing
better. I'D keep you alive, you can bet on that. But I can't leave the
literature works just now. I'll do