and so on, till I was about loaded down to the guards. Then comes
a smiling old gentleman and asked me to hold HIS things. I swabbed
off the perspiration and says, pretty tart –
“I’ll have to get you to excuse me, my friend, – I ain’t no hat-
rack.”
About this time I begun to run across piles of those traps, lying
in the road. I just quietly dumped my extra cargo along with them.
I looked around, and, Peters, that whole nation that was following
me were loaded down the same as I’d been. The return crowd had got
them to hold their things a minute, you see. They all dumped their
loads, too, and we went on.
When I found myself perched on a cloud, with a million other
people, I never felt so good in my life. Says I, “Now this is
according to the promises; I’ve been having my doubts, but now I am
in heaven, sure enough.” I gave my palm branch a wave or two, for
luck, and then I tautened up my harp-strings and struck in. Well,
Peters, you can’t imagine anything like the row we made. It was
grand to listen to, and made a body thrill all over, but there was
considerable many tunes going on at once, and that was a drawback
to the harmony, you understand; and then there was a lot of Injun
tribes, and they kept up such another war-whooping that they kind
of took the tuck out of the music. By and by I quit performing,
and judged I’d take a rest. There was quite a nice mild old
gentleman sitting next me, and I noticed he didn’t take a hand; I
encouraged him, but he said he was naturally bashful, and was
afraid to try before so many people. By and by the old gentleman
said he never could seem to enjoy music somehow. The fact was, I
was beginning to feel the same way; but I didn’t say anything. Him
and I had a considerable long silence, then, but of course it
warn’t noticeable in that place. After about sixteen or seventeen
hours, during which I played and sung a little, now and then –
always the same tune, because I didn’t know any other – I laid down
my harp and begun to fan myself with my palm branch. Then we both
got to sighing pretty regular. Finally, says he –
“Don’t you know any tune but the one you’ve been pegging at all
day?”
“Not another blessed one,” says I.
“Don’t you reckon you could learn another one?” says he.
“Never,” says I; “I’ve tried to, but I couldn’t manage it.”
“It’s a long time to hang to the one – eternity, you know.”
“Don’t break my heart,” says I; “I’m getting low-spirited enough
already.”
After another long silence, says he –
“Are you glad to be here?”
Says I, “Old man, I’ll be frank with you. This AIN’T just as near
my idea of bliss as I thought it was going to be, when I used to go
to church.”
Says he, “What do you say to knocking off and calling it half a
day?”
“That’s me,” says I. “I never wanted to get off watch so bad in my
life.”
So we started. Millions were coming to the cloud-bank all the
time, happy and hosannahing; millions were leaving it all the time,
looking mighty quiet, I tell you. We laid for the new-comers, and
pretty soon I’d got them to hold all my things a minute, and then I
was a free man again and most outrageously happy. Just then I ran
across old Sam Bartlett, who had been dead a long time, and stopped
to have a talk with him. Says I –
“Now tell me – is this to go on forever? Ain’t there anything else
for a change?”
Says he –
“I’ll set you right on that point very quick. People take the
figurative language of the Bible and the allegories for literal,
and the first thing they ask for when they get here is a halo and a
harp, and so on. Nothing that’s harmless and reasonable is refused