News
HMS Is Facing a Deficit. Under Trump, Some Fear It May Get Worse.
News
Cambridge Police Respond to Three Armed Robberies Over Holiday Weekend
News
What’s Next for Harvard’s Legacy of Slavery Initiative?
News
MassDOT Adds Unpopular Train Layover to Allston I-90 Project in Sudden Reversal
News
Denied Winter Campus Housing, International Students Scramble to Find Alternative Options
Mr. Philip Frances Samuels, Baconian scholar, editor, and independent book vendor, uncrooked one elbow from around a copy of "Ear ce Rammed," peered intently through his spectacles, and poked a long bony finger at the CRIMSON reporter. "Sure, I'm still here," said he, indicating with a jerk of his head the irregular piles of volumes stacked along the side of his hole in the wall at 30a Boylston St. "Sure, the cops've got nothing on me. They're just trying to scare me out. I don't have to have any license."
He waved the finger and pushed back the upturned rim of his tan fedora revealing a stray black lock glued to his moist forehead. "Get a summons? Sure I got a summons. But I'm not going to see the commissioner. I've got no business with him. I'm a busy man. I've got no time to see him. I've got no business with him." Jabbing his finger at the inquisitor, Mr. Samuels emphasized the latter point, intimating that if the commissioner wished to satisfy his curiosity he could do so, but at 30a Boylston St.
At this juncture, Mr. Samuels turned to remonstrate with an undergraduate who had opened one of the red volumes at the middle. When he had impressed his startled auditor with the necessity for beginning at the beginning, he returned to the reporter with another matter. "You know," he opened, "Professor Kittredge sent two of his students here yesterday." He pulled his hat down an inch. "Sure, he told them to ask me a question. If Bacon wrote Shakespere, then who wrote Bacon? Of course, Mr. Samuel's face took on a comprehending grin, "of course, Professor Kittredge is only jesting. But I'm serious about this book. I'll give my fortune and my life to teach the lesson that is in it. Now here's my idea," he yanked his hat down on top of a pair of bushy eyebrows, "I'll give the University five hundred copies of my book--I guess five hundred would be enough--and if the University wants it can form a committee to sell the books at $1.50 a copy, proceeds to go towards founding a Baconian class at Harvard." He lowered his finger a trifle. "Then we shall sell whether there is anything in it."
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.