CHAPTER XVII. A POOR OLD TRAMP.

 

AS I looked toward the hammock on which the old man lay, I saw a movement of his hand: presently his eyes opened, roved around from one face to another, and at length slowly wandered about the beautiful room with its exquisite appointments: then, with considerable difficulty, he raised himself to a sitting posture.

 

I was standing in front of his hammock but a few feet from him. Sigismund, Annie, and Herman were seated on the divan, while the Captain was in a far part of the room, with his back toward us, busy about something.

 

The old man's eyes rested on mine with a wondering stare; his lips moved, and he spoke, but in a very faint voice.

 

"Madam," he said, "for the love of heaven, give me something to eat. I am starving, actually starving, to death. I am too old and feeble to work, too proud to beg, but save my life, madam, whoever you are; don't let me starve, and I will serve you in some way or other: although I am very old, nearly ninety, yet I could do many an errand for you, enough to earn what little I may eat, surely."

 

He stretched his hands out toward me in a supplicating manner.

 

"Lady," he went on, "believe me; I am no beggar. I once had plenty and to spare. Time has robbed me of all things—home, friends, wife and children. My present condition is not my own fault, but the fault of time. I am an old, old man, lady, and I am starving!"

 

He sank back with a moan, but soon started up again.

 

"Where am I?" he asked. "I must have fainted with hunger and exposure. Did you find me insensible by the road-side, and in your kindness fetch me hither? O lady! give me a morsel and a sup, and I shall gain strength to arise and serve you."

 

Once more he stretched forth his hands pleadingly. A little table stood near me which I had not previously noticed, and upon it were bread, fruit and wine. I poured some wine from the decanter into a dainty goblet, and held it to the old man's lips. He drank eagerly. Replacing the glass, I offered him the bread and fruit. He ate of the bread ravenously, while tears streamed down his withered, sunken, pallid checks. When his hunger was somewhat appeased and he had drunk a little more wine, he continued to eat of the luscious fruit, but more daintily; and now he poured forth his thanks.

 

“Thanks! A thousand thanks, dear lady," he said. "How very, very good of you to allow me, whom everybody calls an old tramp and beggar, to stay in this beautiful room with you, and those other elegant people. Yet, madam, I never begged until this very moment. To tramp I am obliged, for I have no home. Madam, you are so kind to me I will tell you all."

 

"Many years ago,—perhaps ten, for I was very old at that time, too old to sustain my rights, and keep that which I had been years in laying by for my old age,—I lost all that possessed through the dishonesty of one in the legal profession, whom I had employed as my lawyer. Dear madam, law, which is supposed to be justice, robbed me of all I had in the world, after I had become too old to earn more, and sent me forth, if not a beggar, a homeless tramp, to be abused, insulted, scoffed at, and often to find lodging in a police station, arrested for vagrancy; an old man whom they had first robbed, compelling vagrancy because too old to work; ragged, as I am, because I have no money to buy clothes. Madam, I was once decent and respectable. I once had a wife and children—but, O! so many, many years ago, for I am nearly ninety. My troubles are almost over, I think. Surely, one as old as myself cannot live much longer. I have thought many times, when I have been cold and hungry, that I was dying. I have slept in haystacks, crawled into barns, outhouses, and as a last best resort have smuggled myself on board sailing vessels, hidden in some remote corner where I would not be discovered until the open sea was gained: often, I have been long voyages in this way, for when the sailors found me I would plead with them to allow me to remain, and I would serve them in any way that an old man could. But this time the captain would not have me, and they put me ashore on a small island. It was not inhabited, and so I must have been insensible with hunger when you found me."

 

Thus far I had not spoken, not knowing what to say. It was evident that this old man had not the least suspicion that he was dead. How should I break it to him? While I was trying to think of some pleasant way, he began to examine his hammock, to gaze about the room once more, then at the curious and beautiful dome, at me and the others, his countenance all the while expressing more and still more surprise.

 

"Madam," he said, at last, "will you kindly tell me where I am, and how I came here? Surely, I never saw anything like this before. I am a very old man, and have seen a great deal of the world, besides many countries in it, but this place is not like anything which I ever saw.

 

He stared at the floor of beaten gold, at the sparkling jewels within the meshes of the hammocks, and at the clothing we wore: he put both hands to his head, looking more and more bewildered. For some reason I could not open my lips to tell him where he was, the others seemed unwilling to lend me any assistance, and I knew they were acting for the best, also that they were wiser in such matters than myself, and as it was impossible to answer him I kept silent.

 

"Either I must be dreaming," he went on, ”or the wine has made me drunk. It has been a very long time since wine has passed my lips. Lady, I have never been a drunkard."

 

Then he fell to examining his hands and his limbs.

 

"Yes," he murmured, "I must be dreaming and presently I shall awake to starvation and suffering, as I have done many times before, after having delightful dreams. Oh! that I might never awake! I would that I were dead! Strange that I should live to he so old while the young and the happy die—die in their beautiful homes, surrounded by luxury and plenty. O God! take my soul to thyself, before I awake to want and misery.'

 

He threw himself back, closed his eyes, and folded his hands as if in prayer.

 

"Dear God, thou hast looked on my misery long enough," he prayed; "now, dear Saviour, take me to thyself; let me not awake, and I will praise thee evermore!, Would that this beautiful lady of my dream were an angel sent to escort me home."

 

I approached him, laying my hand on his folded ones.

 

"Look at me," I said. "You are not dreaming; it is all so. I am a real woman, and have given you to eat and to drink. Look at these other people here; they are not visions but persons. They are my sister and her husband; my own darling little boy has but just left the room, and that gentleman is his teacher," pointing to Herman; "the other gentleman is Captain Daking, who has charge of this beautiful place,"

 

"Is this a hospital, or home for sailors? asked the old man.

 

"Yes," I replied, "it is a refuge for sailors."

 

"On what island, or in what country is it?"

 

I raised my finger to my lips somewhat solicitously.

 

"It is on an island within the heavens," I at length found courage to say; "and this is one of God's mansions for poor lost sailors: a refuge within the heavens for the outcast, the forlorn, the tramp, and the beggar: one of God's provisions for man's inhumanity to man: here, the weary find rest, the hungry are fed, and the homeless find a home."

 

The old man started up once more.

 

"Then it is all over at last?" he questioned, and I am really dead? This is heaven, and you are an angel; but where is God, the great white throne, and the golden streets? Of course, I am yet to be judged. Perhaps he will say, 'Depart ye cursed!' for I have been cursed by man for these many years."

 

"God is not a God of cursing," I said, "but a God of wisdom and love. Wisdom and love curse not, neither do they bid any depart, but invite all to drink at the everlasting fount, and none who desire are ever turned away."

 

"Then I shall not be turned away into everlasting torment with the devil and his angels, shall not be obliged to flee from the wrath of God? for this I have always fully believed."

Sigismund now approached, saying:

 

"There is no torment which endures for ever. Torment is a thing of time, not of eternity, and your torment, my dear sir, has come to an end: as for the devil and his angels, they are usually found lurking within the minds of ignorant, unprincipled men and women on earth; such ones as rob an old man, then cast him adrift; such ones as arrest the old and helpless as vagrants, after making them so by their foolish and unjust laws; such ones as have not the milk of human kindness within their breasts; such ones as preach hellfire, the devil and his angels, and God's wrath. The devil and the wrath and the hell-fire are within them, and are not found within the heavens."

 

The old man's face took on a pleased, bright expression.

 

"And my days of want, decrepitude and suffering are really over at last?

 

He raised himself out of the hammock, placed his feet on the golden floor, and stood erect: he threw back his shoulders, and one could see the wrinkles slowly disappearing as the bright, hopeful look grew brighter and more hopeful still, filling out the marks which despair and misery had caused.

 

"This is the first time I have been able to stand perfectly straight for many years," he said, it and the pain and rheumatism are all gone. I feel so light I think I could fly with ease. Yes; it is really myself," he continued, "but as though I were made all over new. I think I can now understand the true meaning of the words within the Bible: 'And there shall be a new song put into their mouths.' No; I can never sing the old song again. It is all new, entirely new!"

 

"'And there shall be a new heaven and a new earth,'" quoted Sigismund. "Friend, look about you. Behold the new heaven and the new earth! There is a natural body, and a spiritual body. The natural, or material, body thou hast left or laid aside. Behold! all things have become new, bright, and clean, without spot or blemish. Friend, thou wast formerly clothed in filthy rags, but the rags and filth were merely upon the surface, they did not penetrate nor permeate thy spiritual body, neither did they affect thy soul. 'And their raiment, shall be as white as snow, and a crown shall be given them likewise a harp of gold.'"

 

And as Sigismund thus murmured softly, Captain Daking came forward: over one arm was thrown a misty white robe, in one hand he carried a crown sparkling with jewels, in the other a golden harp. Sigismund took the crown, Annie the harp, Captain Daking placed the robe in my hands.

 

"Thou hast fed this our brother with the bread of heaven, in other words, spiritual bread, and given him to drink of the wine of heaven, for he was an hungered and a thirst: 'if thou hast done it unto the least of my children, thou hast done it unto me,' still quoted Sigismund, as he made gentle passes with his hands over the entire form of him who shortly before had been an outcast and tramp, who, like many other sons of men, had not where to lay his head: with each movement of Sigismund's hands, all that was dark, doubtful, undefined, not quite perfect or straight and symmetrical, gradually faded and dropped away from the old man, and he stood before us a grand, noble­looking spirit.

 

"'And the lame shall walk, the blind shall see, and the crooked shall be made straight,'" quoted Sigismund, musingly: "'and the things which I do, ye shall do also.' Mary, clothe this our friend in white raiment."

 

Whereupon I threw the robe about him, Captain Daking drew a cord of gold around the waist, Sigismund placed the sparkling crown upon his head, and Annie reached him the harp of gold.

 

"Thou wert a ripened sheaf, and filled with many years, therefore be thou crowned, and may thy soul be attuned like unto this golden harp, wherewith thou shalt discourse sweet music. And now, our friend and brother, go thou and do likewise unto the spirits in prison, for thou wert imprisoned for many years within a worn and feeble natural body; thou couldst not see, for thou wert blind to the truth; thy prison doors have been oped, and now thou art free: Praise thou the Lord!"

 

The old man now stood before us, a vision of grandeur and beauty. His blue eyes shone like stars. His hair and beard had been left to remain in snowy whiteness, long and flowing, at his own request; and within a large mirror, not far from us, he beheld the reflection of himself.

 

"You have bidden me to praise the Lord," he said. "Am afraid I do not quite understand your meaning. My soul is filled with love and thankfulness toward you, my saviours and benefactors, but the Lord I have not yet seen."

 

"Brother, open thine eyes—the eyes of thine understanding; for, lo! the Lord of Hosts stands before you."

 

Still the old man looked somewhat puzzled.

 

"Brother," said Sigismund, "I will explain my words. It is not a person to whom you must sing praises, or to whom you must bow down and worship, but the great eternal principles of love and wisdom, from which spring forth justice and truth. If Jesus of Nazareth stood before you this moment, and you were to bow down and worship him, he would say to you as he said to those who followed him on earth 'See that thou doest it not. Am I not a spirit like unto thyself?' No, my friend; your worshipful thanks belong to the great principles of love and wisdom, justice and truth that flow down through our souls to you: you are our brother, therefore we love you, and is it not wisdom to clothe and protect our brother? Friend, nature for ever strikes a balance. On earth, for a season, you were naked, cold, and hungry; now the balance is struck, which means strict justice and eternal truth stands invitingly before you, therefore, sing praises to whom they rightfully belong—the eternal principles which govern all heavens and all earths."