Extract from Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven. Марк Твен

there was such a marvellous world spread out before me – such a glowing, beautiful, bewitching country. The things I took for furnaces were gates, miles high, made all of flashing jewels, and they pierced a wall of solid gold that you couldn’t see the top of, nor yet the end of, in either direction. I was pointed straight for one of these gates, and a-coming like a house afire. Now I noticed that the skies were black with millions of people, pointed for those gates. What a roar they made, rushing through the air! The ground was as thick as ants with people, too – billions of them, I judge.

      I lit. I drifted up to a gate with a swarm of people, and when it was my turn the head clerk says, in a business-like way —

      “Well, quick! Where are you from?”

      “San Francisco,” says I.

      “San Fran —what?” says he.

      “San Francisco.”

      He scratched his head and looked puzzled, then he says —

      “Is it a planet?”

      By George, Peters, think of it! “Planet?” says I; “it’s a city. And moreover, it’s one of the biggest and finest and – ”

      “There, there!” says he, “no time here for conversation. We don’t deal in cities here. Where are you from in a general way?”

      “Oh,” I says, “I beg your pardon. Put me down for California.”

      I had him again, Peters! He puzzled a second, then he says, sharp and irritable —

      “I don’t know any such planet – is it a constellation?”

      “Oh, my goodness!” says I. “Constellation, says you? No – it’s a State.”

      “Man, we don’t deal in States here. Will you tell me where you are from in general – at large, don’t you understand?”

      “Oh, now I get your idea,” I says. “I’m from America, – the United States of America.”

      Peters, do you know I had him again? If I hadn’t I’m a clam! His face was as blank as a target after a militia shooting-match. He turned to an under clerk and says —

      “Where is America? What is America?”

      The under clerk answered up prompt and says —

      “There ain’t any such orb.”

      “Orb?” says I. “Why, what are you talking about, young man? It ain’t an orb; it’s a country; it’s a continent. Columbus discovered it; I reckon likely you’ve heard of him, anyway. America – why, sir, America – ”

      “Silence!” says the head clerk. “Once for all, where – are – you —from?”

      “Well,” says I, “I don’t know anything more to say – unless I lump things, and just say I’m from the world.”

      “Ah,” says he, brightening up, “now that’s something like! What world?”

      Peters, he had me, that time. I looked at him, puzzled, he looked at me, worried. Then he burst out —

      “Come, come, what world?”

      Says I, “Why, the world, of course.”

      “The world!” he says. “H’m! there’s billions of them!.. Next!”

      That meant for me to stand aside. I done so, and a sky-blue man with seven heads and only one leg hopped into my place. I took a walk. It just occurred to me, then, that all the myriads I had seen swarming to that gate, up to this time, were just like that creature. I tried to run across somebody I was acquainted with, but they were out of acquaintances of mine just then. So I thought the thing all over and finally sidled back there pretty meek and feeling rather stumped, as you may say.

      “Well?” said the head clerk.

      “Well, sir,” I says, pretty humble, “I don’t seem to make out which world it is I’m from. But you may know it from this – it’s the one the Saviour saved.”

      He bent his head at the Name. Then he says, gently —

      “The worlds He has saved are like to the gates of heaven in number – none can count them. What astronomical system is your world in? – perhaps that may assist.”

      “It’s the one that has the sun in it – and the moon – and Mars” – he shook his head at each name – hadn’t ever heard of them, you see – “and Neptune – and Uranus – and Jupiter – ”

      “Hold on!” says he – “hold on a minute! Jupiter.. Jupiter.. Seems to me we had a man from there eight or nine hundred years ago – but people from that system very seldom enter by this gate.” All of a sudden he begun to look me so straight in the eye that I thought he was going to bore through me. Then he says, very deliberate, “Did you come straight here from your system?”

      “Yes, sir,” I says – but I blushed the least little bit in the world when I said it.

      He looked at me very stern, and says —

      “That is not true; and this is not the place for prevarication. You wandered from your course. How did that happen?”

      Says I, blushing again —

      “I’m sorry, and I take back what I said, and confess. I raced a little with a comet one day – only just the least little bit – only the tiniest lit – ”

      “So – so,” says he – and without any sugar in his voice to speak of.

      I went on, and says —

      “But I only fell off just a bare point, and I went right back on my course again the minute the race was over.”

      “No matter – that divergence has made all this trouble. It has brought you to a gate that is billions of leagues from the right one. If you had gone to your own gate they would have known all about your world at once and there would have been no delay. But we will try to accommodate you.” He turned to an under clerk and says —

      “What system is Jupiter in?”

      “I don’t remember, sir, but I think there is such a planet in one of the little new systems away out in one of the thinly worlded corners of the universe. I will see.”

      He got a balloon and sailed up and up and up, in front of a map that was as big as Rhode Island. He went on up till he was out of sight, and by and by he came down and got something to eat and went up again. To cut a long story short, he kept on doing this for a day or two, and finally he came down and said he thought he had found that solar system, but it might be fly-specks. So he got a microscope and went back. It turned out better than he feared. He had rousted out our system, sure enough. He got me to describe our planet and its distance from the sun, and then he says to his chief —

      “Oh, I know the one he means, now, sir. It is on the map. It is called the Wart.”

      Says I to myself, “Young man, it wouldn’t be wholesome for you to go down there and call it the Wart.”

      Well, they let me in, then, and told me I was safe forever and wouldn’t have any more trouble.

      Then they turned from me and went on with their work, the same as if they considered my case all complete and shipshape. I was a good deal surprised at this, but I was diffident about speaking up and reminding them. I did so hate to do it, you know; it seemed a pity to bother them, they had so much on their hands. Twice I thought I would give up and let the thing go; so twice I started to leave, but immediately I thought what a figure I should cut stepping out amongst the redeemed in such a rig, and that made me hang back and come to anchor again. People got to eying me – clerks, you know – wondering why I didn’t get under way. I couldn’t stand this long – it was too uncomfortable. So at last I plucked up courage and tipped the head clerk a signal. He says —

      “What! you here yet? What’s wanting?”

      Says I, in a low voice