“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—