Well, when I had been dead about thirty years I begun
to get a little anxious. Mind you, had been
whizzing through space all that time, like a comet.
Like a comet! Why, Peters, I laid over
the lot of them! Of course there warn’t
any of them going my way, as a steady thing, you know,
because they travel in a long circle like the loop
of a lasso, whereas I was pointed as straight as a
dart for the Hereafter; but I happened on one every
now and then that was going my way for an hour or
so, and then we had a bit of a brush together.
But it was generally pretty one-sided, because I
sailed by them the same as if they were standing still.
An ordinary comet don’t make more than about
200,000 miles a minute. Of course when I came
across one of that sort—like Encke’s
and Halley’s comets, for instance—it
warn’t anything but just a flash and a vanish,
you see. You couldn’t rightly call it a
race. It was as if the comet was a gravel-train
and I was a telegraph despatch. But after I
got outside of our astronomical system, I used to
flush a comet occasionally that was something like.
We haven’t got any such comets—ours
don’t begin. One night I was swinging
along at a good round gait, everything taut and trim,
and the wind in my favor—I judged I was
going about a million miles a minute—it
might have been more, it couldn’t have been less—when
I flushed a most uncommonly big one about three points
off my starboard bow. By his stern lights I
judged he was bearing about northeast-and-by-north-half-east.
Well, it was so near my course that I wouldn’t
throw away the chance; so I fell off a point, steadied
my helm, and went for him. You should have heard
me whiz, and seen the electric fur fly! In about
a minute and a half I was fringed out with an electrical
nimbus that flamed around for miles and miles and
lit up all space like broad day. The comet was
burning blue in the distance, like a sickly torch,
when I first sighted him, but he begun to grow bigger
and bigger as I crept up on him. I slipped up
on him so fast that when I had gone about 150,000,000
miles I was close enough to be swallowed up in the
phosphorescent glory of his wake, and I couldn’t
see anything for the glare. Thinks I, it won’t
do to run into him, so I shunted to one side and tore
along. By and by I closed up abreast of his
tail. Do you know what it was like? It
was like a gnat closing up on the continent of America.
I forged along. By and by I had sailed along
his coast for a little upwards of a hundred and fifty
million miles, and then I could see by the shape of
him that I hadn’t even got up to his waistband
yet. Why, Peters, we don’t know anything
about comets, down here. If you want to see comets
that are comets, you’ve got to go outside
of our solar system— where there’s
room for them, you understand. My friend, I’ve
seen comets out there that couldn’t even lay
down inside the orbits of our noblest comets
without their tails hanging over.
Copyrights
Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.