Chapter 28

The Pilgrims then (especially Christian) began to despond in their minds, and looked this way and that, but no way could be found by them by which they might escape the river. Then they asked the men if the waters were all of a depth.

They said, "No;" yet they could not help them in the case; "for," said they, "you shall find it deeper or shallower as you believe in the King of the place."

They then addressed themselves to the water; and entering, Christian began to sink, and crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, "I sink in deep waters; the billows go over my head, all His waves go over me! Selah."

Then said the other, "Be of good cheer, my brother, I feel the bottom, and it is good."

Then said Christian, "Ah! my friend, 'the sorrows of death have compassed me about;' I shall not see the land that flows with milk and honey;" and with that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian, so that he could not see before him. Also here he in a great measure lost his senses, so that he could neither remember nor orderly talk of any of those sweet refreshments that he had met with in the way of his pilgrimage.

But all the words that he spake still tended to discover that he had horror of mind, and heart-fears that he should die in that river, and never obtain entrance in at the gate. Here, also, as they that stood by perceived, he was much in the troublesome thoughts of the sins that he had committed, both since and before he began to be a pilgrim. It was also observed that he was troubled with apparitions of hobgoblins and evil spirits, for ever and anon he would intimate so much by words.

Hopeful, therefore, here had much ado to keep his brother's head above water; yea, sometimes he would be quite gone down, and then, ere a while, he would rise up again half dead. Hopeful also did endeavor to comfort him, saying, "Brother, I see the gate, and men standing by to receive us;" but Christian would answer, "It is you, it is you they wait for; you have been Hopeful ever since I knew you."

"And so have you," said he to Christian.

"Ah, brother;" said he, "surely if I was right, He would now arise to help me; but for my sins He hath brought me into the snare, and hath left me."

Then said Hopeful, "My brother, you have quite forgot the text, where it is said of the wicked, 'There are no bands in their death, but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued like other men.' These troubles and distresses that you go through in these waters are no sign that God hath forsaken you, but are sent to try you, whether you will call to mind that which heretofore you have received of his goodness, and live upon him in your distresses."

Then I saw in my dream, that Christian was as in a muse a while. To whom also Hopeful added this word, "Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole;" and with that Christian brake out with a loud voice, "Oh! I see Him again, and He tells me, 'When thou passeth through the waters I will be with thee; and through the river, they shall not overflow thee.'"

Then they both took courage, and the enemy was after that as still as a stone, until they were gone over. Christian therefore presently found ground to stand upon, and so it followed that the rest of the river was but shallow.

Thus they got over.

Now, upon the bank of the river, on the other side, they saw the two Shining Men again, who there waited for them, wherefore, being come out of the river, they saluted them, saying, "We are ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for those that shall be heirs of salvation."

Thus they went along toward the gate.

Now you must note that the City stood upon a mighty hill, but the Pilgrims went up that hill with ease, because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; also, they had left their mortal garments behind them in the river, for though they went in with them, they came out without them. They, therefore, went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the City was framed was higher than the clouds. They therefore went up through the regions of the air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got over the river, and had such glorious companions to attend them.

Now while they were thus drawing toward the gate, behold a company of the heavenly host came out to meet them: to whom it was said, by the other two Shining Ones, "These are the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the world, and that have left all for His holy name; and He hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their desired journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy."

Then the heavenly host gave a great shout saying, "Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb." There came out also at this time to meet them, several of the king's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who, with melodious noises, and loud, made even the heavens to echo with their sound. These trumpeters saluted Christian and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the world; and this they did with shouting and sound of trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left (as it were to guard them through the upper regions), continually sounding as they went, with melodious noise, in notes on high; so that the very sight was to them that could behold it as if heaven itself was come down to meet them. Thus, therefore, they walked on together; and as they walked, ever and anon, these trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their music with looks and gestures, still signify to Christian and his brother how welcome they were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them.

And now were these two men, as it were, in heaven, before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had the City itself in view, and they thought they heard all the bells therein to ring to welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there, with such company, and that for ever and ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed! And thus they came up to the gate.

Now, when they were come up to the gate, there was written over it in letters of gold, "Blessed are they that do His commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the City."

Then I saw in my dream that the Shining Men bid them call at the gate; the which, when they did, some looked from over the gate, to-wit, Enoch, Moses and Elijah, etc., to whom it was said, "These pilgrims are come from the City of Destruction, for the love that they bear to the King of this place;" and then the pilgrims gave in unto them each man his certificate, which they had received in the beginning; those, therefore, were carried in to the King, who, when he had read them, said, "Where are the men?"

To whom it was answered, "They are standing without the gate."

The King then commanded to open the gate, "That the righteous nation," said he, "which keepeth the truth may enter in."

Now I saw in my dream that these two men went in at the gate: and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. There were also that met them with harps and crowns, and gave them to them--the harps to praise withal, and the crowns in token of honor.

Then I heard in my dream that all the bells in the city rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, _"Enter ye into the joy of your Lord."_

I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, _"Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."_

Now, just as the gate were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and, behold, the City shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold, and in them walked many men, with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord." And after that they shut up the gates; which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

AWAY [Footnote: From _Afterichiles_, by James Whitcomb Riley, copyright 1887.]

_By_ JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

I cannot say, and I will not say, That he is dead.--He is just away!

With a cheery smile and a wave of the hand, He has wandered into an unknown land,

And left us dreaming how very fair It needs must be, since he lingers there.

And you--oh you, who the wildest yearn For the old-time step and the glad return,--

Think of him faring on, as dear In the love of There as the love of Here;

And loyal still, as he gave the blows Of his warrior strength to his country's foes.--

Mild and gentle, as he was brave,-- When the sweetest love of his life he gave

To simple things;--Where the violets grew Pure as the eyes they were likened to,

The touches of his hand have strayed As reverently as his lips have prayed:

When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred Was dear to him as the mocking-bird;

And he pitied as much as a man in pain A writhing honey-bee wet with rain.--

Think of him still as the same, I say; He is not dead--he is just away!

LITTLE GIFFIN OF TENNESSEE

Out of the focal and foremost fire, Out of the hospital walls as dire, Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene-- Eighteenth battle and he sixteen-- Spectre such as you seldom see, Little Giffin of Tennessee.

"Take him and welcome," the surgeon said, "But much your doctor can help the dead!" And so we took him and brought him where The balm was sweet on the summer air; And we laid him down on a lonesome bed, Utter Lazarus, heels to head.

Weary war with bated breath! Skeleton Boy against skeleton Death! Months of torture, how many such! Weary weeks of the stick and crutch! And still the glint of the steel-blue eye Told of a spirit that wouldn't die,

And didn't--nay more, in Death's despite The crippled skeleton learned to write. "Dear Mother," at first, of course, and then, "Dear Captain," asking about the men. Captain's answer, "Of eighty and five, Giffin and I are still alive."

"Johnston's pressed at the front," they say-- Little Giffin was up and away. A tear, the first, as he bade good-bye, Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye. "I'll write, if spared."--There was news of fight, But none of Giffin--he didn't write.

I sometimes fancy that when I'm king, And my gallant courtiers form a ring, Each so careless of power and pelf, Each so thoughtful for all but self, I'd give the best on his bended knee-- Yes, barter them all, for the loyalty Of Little Giffin of Tennessee.

LITTLE BREECHES

A PIKE COUNTY VIEW OF SPECIAL PROVIDENCE

By JOHN HAY [Footnote: John Hay was born in Indiana, and in 1861 became the law- partner of Abraham Lincoln, and for the greater part of the time during the latter's life as president of the United States, acted as his private secretary. After the War he held various political offices and was an editorial Writer on the New York Tribune. He became known for his unusual tact and foresight, and finally became secretary of state.

He is well known, too, for his writings, the most notable of which is his _Abraham Lincoln_, which was written in company with John G Nicolay. Besides this he wrote a number of humorous poems, of which _Little Breeches_ is perhaps the best known.]

I don't go much on religion, I never ain't had no show; But I've got a middlin' tight grip, sir, On the handful o' things I know. I don't pan out on the prophets And free-will, and that sort of thing,-- But I b'lieve in God and the angels, Ever sence one night last spring.

I come into town with some turnips, And my little Gabe come along,-- No four-year-old in the country Could beat him for pretty and strong, Peart and chipper and sassy, Always ready to swear and fight,-- And I'd larnt him ter chaw terbacker, Jest to keep his milk-teeth white.

The snow come down like a blanket As I passed by Taggart's store; I went in for a jug of molasses And left the team at the door. They scared at something and started,-- I heard one little squall, And hell-to-split over the prairie Went team, Little Breeches and all.

Hell-to-split over the prairie! I was almost froze with skeer; But we rousted up some torches, And sarched for 'em far and near. At last we struck hosses and wagon, Snowed under a soft white mound, Upsot, dead beat,--but of little Gabe No hide nor hair was found.

And here all hope soured on me Of my fellow-critter's aid,-- I jest flopped down on my marrow-bones, Crotch-deep in the snow, and prayed. * * * * * By this, the torches was played out, And me and Isrul Parr Went off for some wood to a sheepfold That he said was somewhar thar. We found it at last, and a little shed Where they shut up the lambs at night. We looked in, and seen them huddled thar, So warm and sleepy and white;

And THAR sot Little Breeches and chirped, As peart as ever you see, "I want a chaw of terbacker, And that's what's the matter of me."

How did he git thar? Angels. He could never have walked in that storm. They jest scooped down and toted him To whar it was safe and warm.

And I think that saving a little child, And bringing him to his own, Is a derned sight better business Than loafing around the Throne.

This little poem is an imitation of what was the rude dialect of some parts of Pike County, Indiana. One must not be too critical of the roughness and the apparent irreverence of some of the lines, for the sentiment is a pleasing one. An ignorant man who believes in "God and the angels" may be forgiven for the crudity of his ideas, and the mistakes he makes in bringing up his boy, especially as he "never ain't had no show."

THE YARN OF THE "NANCY BELL"

_By_ W. S. GILBERT

'Twas on the shores that round our coasts From Deal to Ramsgate span, That I found alone, on a piece of stone, An elderly naval man.

His hair was weedy, his beard was long, And weedy and long was he; And I heard this wight on the shore recite, In a singular minor key:--

"O, I am a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig."

And he shook his fists and he tore his hair Till I really felt afraid, For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, And so I simply said:--

"O elderly man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And I'll eat my hand if I understand How you can possibly be

"At once a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!"

Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which Is a trick all seamen larn, And having got rid of a thumping quid He spun this painful yarn:--

"'Twas in the good ship Nancy Bell That we sailed to the Indian sea, And there on a reef we come to grief, Which has often occurred to me.

"And pretty nigh all o' the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul); And only ten of the Nancy's men Said 'Here' to the muster-roll.

"There was me, and the cook, and the captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig.

"For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, Till a hungry we did feel, So we drawed a lot, and, accordin', shot The captain for our meal.

"The next lot fell to the Nancy's mate, And a delicate dish he made; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed.

"And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, And he much resembled pig; Then we wittled free, did the cook and me. On the crew of the captain's gig.

"Then only the cook and me was left, And the delicate question, 'Which Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose, And we argued it out as such.

"For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, And the cook he worshipped me; But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed In the other chap's hold, you see.

"'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says Tom. 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be. I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I; And 'Exactly so,' quoth he.

"Say he: 'Dear James, to murder me Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you can't cook me, While I can--and will--cook you?'

"So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot, And some sage and, parsley too.

"'Come here,' says he, with proper pride, Which his smiling features tell; "'Twill soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell.'

"And he stirred it round, and round, and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth; When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth.

"And I eat that cook in a week or less, And as I eating be The last of his chops, why I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see.

* * * * *

"And I never larf, and I never smile, And I never lark nor play; But I sit and croak, and a single joke I have--which is to say:

"O, I am a cook and a captain bold And the mate of the Nancy brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!"

KATEY'S LETTER

_By_ LADY DUFFERIN

Och, girls, did you ever hear I wrote my love a letter? And altho' he cannot read, I thought 'twas all the better. For why should be he puzzled With spellin' in the matter, When the _manin'_ was so plain I loved him faithfully, And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- Without one word from me.

I wrote it, and I folded it, And put a seal upon it, 'Twas a seal almost as big As the crown of my best bonnet; For I wouldn't have the postman Make his remarks upon it, As I'd said _inside_ the letter I loved him faithfully, And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- Without one word from me.

My heart was full, but when I wrote I dare not put the half in; For the neighbors know I love him, And they're mighty found of chaffin', So I dare not write his name _outside_, For fear they would be laughin', But wrote, "From little Kate to one Whom she loves faithfully," And he knows it--oh, he knows it-- Without one word from me.

Now, girls, would you believe it, That postman so _consated_, No answer will he bring me, So long have I waited? But maybe--there mayn't be one, Because--as I have stated-- My love can neither read nor write, But he loves me faithfully, And I know, where'er my love is, That he is true to me.

THE ARICKARA INDIANS [Footnote: This description is taken from. Irving's _Astoria_, an account of early explorations in the Northwest, undertaken under the management of John Jacob Astor.]

_By_ WASHINGTON IRVING

The village of the Rikaras, [Footnote: The Arickaras, or Rees as they are now sometimes called, are reduced to a few hundred persons who are, with the Mandans and other Indians, on a reservation in North Dakota.] Arickaras, or Ricarees, for the name is thus variously written, is between the 46th and 47th parallels of north latitude, and fourteen hundred and thirty miles above the mouth of the Missouri. [Footnote: This would place the village somewhere near the present site of Bismarck, North Dakota.] The party reached it about ten o'clock in the morning, but landed on the opposite side of the river, where they spread out their baggage and effects to dry. From hence they commanded an excellent view of the village. It was divided into two portions, about eighty yards apart, being inhabited by two distinct bands. The whole extended about three quarters of a mile along the river bank, and was composed of conical lodges, that looked like so many small hillocks, being wooden frames intertwined with osier, and covered with earth. The plain beyond the village swept up into hills of considerable height, but the whole country was nearly destitute of trees.

While they were regarding the village, they beheld a singular fleet coming down the river. It consisted of a number of canoes, each made of a single buffalo hide stretched on sticks, so as to form a kind of circular trough. Each one was navigated by a single squaw, who knelt in the bottom and paddled, towing after her frail bark a bundle of floating wood intended for firing. This kind of canoe is in frequent use among the Indians; the buffalo hide being readily made up into a bundle and transported on horseback; it is very serviceable in conveying baggage across the rivers.

The great numbers of horses grazing around the village, and scattered over the neighboring hills and valleys, bespoke the equestrian habits of the Arickaras, who are admirable horsemen. Indeed, in the number of his horses consists the wealth of an Indian of the prairies; who resembles an Arab in his passion for this noble animal, and in his adroitness in the management of it.

After a time, the voice of the sovereign chief, "the Left-handed," was heard across the river, announcing that the council lodge was preparing and inviting the white men to come over. The river was half a mile in width, yet every word uttered by the chieftain was heard; this may be partly attributed to the distinct manner in which every syllable of the compound words in the Indian language is articulated and accented; but in truth, a savage warrior might often rival Achilles himself for force of lungs.

The explorers landed amid a rabble crowd, and were received on the bank by the left-handed chief, who conducted them into the village with grave courtesy; driving to the right and left the swarms of old squaws, imp-like boys, and vagabond dogs, with which the place abounded. They wound their way between the cabins, which looked like dirt-heaps huddled together without any plan, and surrounded by old palisades; all filthy in the extreme, and redolent of villainous smells.

At length they arrived at the council lodge. It was somewhat spacious, and formed of four forked trunks of trees placed upright, supporting crossbeams and a frame of poles interwoven with osiers, and the whole covered with earth. A hole sunken in the centre formed the fireplace, and immediately above was a circular hole in the apex of the lodge, to let out the smoke and let in the daylight. Around the lodge were recesses for sleeping, like the berths on board ships, screened from view by curtains of dressed skins. At the upper end of the lodge was a kind of hunting and warlike trophy, consisting of two buffalo heads garishly painted, surmounted by shields, bows, quivers of arrows, and other weapons.