“Dey wus all dar, boss—all but de babies, as I wus tellin’ you. Nurver did I heah de wail ob a little one come up frum de pit, nur de lisp ob a lullerby turned into moan. Fur de sweetes’ nurse dat eber a baby had, had sed, whilst He was on earth, ‘De little chillun I’ll take keer of them’—an’ dey had all gone to Him.
“Day arter day I seed dis; day arter day I carried nations on my back from de partin ob de two ways to de gate whar Peter stood, ’till I prayed to die ag’in.
“An’ one day, when I thort I c’u’dn’t stan’ it no longer, dar come along a smilin’, quiet man, wid a kind look in his eyes. An’ dey tole him to mount me an’ ride me up to de hill. But he looked me all ober, my puffed legs an’ sore feet an’ sweat-caked sides an’ drawn flank, an’ he said: ‘No—no—I wouldn’t ride into heab’n on the miz’zry ob a dumb beast.’
“An’ he fotch me some water to squench my thirt, an’ he tuck off de saddle an’ bathe my back, an’ he led me slowly up de hill. An’ when we come to de gate, Peter looked at ’im pow’ful ’stonished, an’ sed:
“‘Who am you, suh, dat w’u’d choose ter walk ter heab’n when you mout ride?’
“An’ den de man look at ’im quiet lak, an’ say, ‘I am nuffin heah, my Lord, an’ it matters not whut my name am. Call me one dat had no creed, an’ harmed no man, an’ lubbed all things, Lord, yea, eben de beasts of de fiel’s an’ de birds ob de air an’ de wurm dat creepeth. An’ so loving them, I would not ride eben to heaben’s gate on de miz’zry ob enny beast that Gord has made.’
“An’ den dar cum a burst ob music de lak of which no man eber heurd befo’, an’ a buterful gate on a ribber I nurver seed befo’ was flung wide open, an’ a voice sed: ‘Righteousness an’ truth hab met toguther. Whatsoever you did unto one ob dese you do it also unto me.’
“An’ Peter waved his han’ an’ de man was clothed in white an’ light, an’ went in de glory gate—de onlies’ one ob dem all dat went in, an’ I seed dat yudder gate dat ole Kunnel Ketchum an’ all went in wusn’t heab’n at all, but jus a side entrance to hell—an’ es he went in he waved his han’ at me’ an’ sed: ‘Go back ag’in to earth an’ learn to lub all things dat Gord hes made, an’ yo’ na’bur as yo’se’f,’ an’ befo’ I knowed it I stood in my grabe-clothes in de woods of Bigby, lookin’ fust at de grabe at my feet an’ den at de skies above me, an’ wonderin’ whut hed happen sence I died.”
The queer turn the old man gave to his story set me to thinking, and the hidden lesson touched me so greatly I could not reply. To throw off its weirdness, I finally said:
“Well, what had become of the widder?”