Letters of Peregrine PickleUpton, George P. (George Putnam)
General
Letters of Peregrine Pickle
Upton, George P. (George Putnam)
Chicago (Ill.) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
I proceeded up the hill, and at the top I looked down to a river--the
River of Lethe--flowing sluggishly along through a valley. Across
this river I could see a country of vast extent, which was very
thickly peopled. I went down the hill-side, and came to the river,
and there I found an old ferryman and his boat waiting to convey me
over the dark flood. He asked me for the obolus with which to pay
toll across the river, but, unfortunately, I hadn't a cent with me.
He then asked, rather impatiently, if my friends were so poor when I
died that they couldn't afford to put an obolus in the coffin with
me. I smilingly replied that I wasn't aware I had ever died, whereat
he answered, very seriously, that he had carried a great many dead
men across, but never any dead-heads. I tried to coax the old man
into giving me a ride gratis, but he obstinately refused, saying that
only the disembodied were allowed to cross, and that if he took me
over he would catch the----
"Just the man I want to see," said I. "If I cannot go to him, except
as a blessed defunct, will you have the goodness to hand my card to
him, and say that I come from Chicago?"
The old man took the card, and, after taking on board two or three
people whom I used to know, and supposed were saints, he paddled
across and soon returned, saying that the Devil had sent his
compliments and was willing to see me. He also sent word that he was
desirous of sending back by me his thanks to Chicago, which was just
now conferring a great favor upon him in the way of business.
I accordingly jumped into the boat. The old man had to work very hard
in getting me over. The spirits which he was accustomed to carry
weigh nothing and pack close, but I was quite substantial.
In my passage across the river I observed that it was full of robes,
mitres, crosiers, censers, creeds, canons, and other articles
floating along, and I asked the old man the cause of it. He simply
replied that he didn't know what they were. He believed they were
some sort of stuff which some people brought along with them and
had to throw away because nobody used them here or in the other
place. When we had reached the other shore I landed, and the old man
informed me I was in Hell, and would find the Devil a short distance
away. I found him without difficulty. As soon as he had settled a
little dispute between some Board of Trade men who had been getting
up a corner,--which he declared was too disgraceful even for _his_
country,--he turned to me and bade me welcome.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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