. . No, not that I know of."
"Think," says I.
He thought. Then he says--
"No, I can't seem to have forgot anything. What is it?"
"Look at me," says I, "look me all over."
He done it.
"Well?" says he.
"Well," says I, "you don't notice anything? If I branched out
amongst the elect looking like this, wouldn't I attract
considerable attention?--wouldn't I be a little conspicuous?"
"Well," he says, "I don't see anything the matter. What do you
lack?"
"Lack! Why, I lack my harp, and my wreath, and my halo, and my
hymn-book, and my palm branch--I lack everything that a body
naturally requires up here, my friend."
Puzzled? Peters, he was the worst puzzled man you ever saw.
Finally he says--
"Well, you seem to be a curiosity every way a body takes you. I
never heard of these things before."
I looked at the man awhile in solid astonishment; then I says--
"Now, I hope you don't take it as an offence, for I don't mean any,
but really, for a man that has been in the Kingdom as long as I
reckon you have, you do seem to know powerful little about its
customs."
"Its customs!" says he. "Heaven is a large place, good friend.
Large empires have many and diverse customs. Even small dominions
have, as you doubtless know by what you have seen of the matter on
a small scale in the Wart. How can you imagine I could ever learn
the varied customs of the countless kingdoms of heaven? It makes
my head ache to think of it.
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