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A Visit to Jupiter

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Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 20, 1870

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 37, No. 1.

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A Visit to Jupiter.

I was just congratulating myself, that bright wintry morning, as I sat by the cosy fire, and thinking what a pleasant situation I had, as I industriously commenced preparations for the day’s work. A happy group of faces surrounded me, and the opening door admitted more, from the keen air without. But cold noses and rosy cheeks only provoked jests from their owners, and “all went merry as a marriage bell.” I might have been perfectly happy; but—whose happiness was ever so perfect that a “but” or an “if” was not in the way? I had glanced out of the window, and had seen old mother Gawkins coming up the school-house walk, and that little fact disturbed my peace of mind exceedingly. Not that the venerable lady had done me any personal injury of which I was aware; but I dreaded her presence. She always made me feel disagreeably conscious of every petty sin of my life, with her sanctimonious “I-wonder-if-you’re-all-you-pretend-to-be” face, and her “I-am-holier-than-thou” manner. But I met her with as good grace as possible. Mrs. Gawkins was very reserved and dignified this morning, and I knew something unusual had happened, when she called for her children and took them away. You must bear in mind that whatever my feelings were toward her, she was considered, by her particular “set,” “dear, good, pious, motherly,” and all that, and I really could not account for my feelings; of course they were wrong, and they were the sins, perhaps, for which my punishment was given.
2. Some of my young-lady pupils entered just then. Was it fancy, or did they greet me less cordially than usual? At any rate, I turned to my work, which I had begun so cheerfully, with a heavier heart than I had carried there that morning.
3. Two or three days afterward, when I had ascertained that their coldness was not fancied, vague rumors and ill-natured tales came floating to my ears that had had their circulation started by the gossiping set of which old mother Gawkins was head; tales in which I figured, not in a very advantageous light either; and each precious bit of slander fell, a heavy blow on my innocent head.
4. “Oh! what a dreary, weary life to lead,” I murmured to myself, as I opened the door of my lowly boarding place, tired and discouraged. “I almost wish I may never see the light of day again;” and picking my way among cats and children to my room, I threw myself upon my little patchwork-covered bed. I gazed out of the window on the slowly and drearily falling snow, becoming more and more dreary in the increasing darkness and gloom. But that was poor comfort, and I turned and studied the pattern of my patchwork quilt till my brain whirled. “Oh! why must I,” I thought, “I, who have ever walked in the path of virtue, and been strictly obedient to the calls of duty and right, be thus persecuted and shunned? It is not to be endured! What can I do?” Slowly formerly-fancied visions of fame and happiness faded away, and I saw myself standing alone—innocent and alone.
5. “Schoolma’am here? Thought I’d come in and warm a bit, and see her. In the front room? Well, I’ll step in a minute.” And in stamps Liddy Huld, the fastest talker, and the owner of the most ingenious brain, in the neighborhood. Well, I resigned myself, since I must be persecuted one way or another.
6. “Good evening, Miss Hunt. Purty stormy! Hope you didn’t catch cold last evening, standing talkin’ with Mr. J——? Eh? He, he, he. Well, well, I know how that is. I met old mother Gawkins down here. Sanctimonious hypocrite! You mustn’t worry, schoolma’am, ’bout them stories as she’s told; for she’s no better herself; not a whit better than—”
7. “I thought she couldn’t be perfection itself, she knows so well how to describe a bad character,” I interrupted.
8. “He, he; well, she does, now; but I can tell you that there’s bad things, what’s true, said about her—ever hear? Didn’t? Well, how’t she’s been pocketing coffee in Mr. E——’s store; and everybody knows how she can—”
9. But with a feeling of revengeful satisfaction at hearing my enemy so described, I dropped my head; the sharp voice of Liddy Huld died away, the colors of my patchwork quilt faded from my sight, and I was in darkness. Presently a feeble touch fell upon my shoulder. I looked up. A dark, withered little object, something like a human being, excepting it owned a pair of wings, stood by my side. Ah! I knew him—my former guide, my little friend! “I have come,” he said, “at my master’s bidding, to lend you my wings.”
10. “Welcome, welcome, good genii,” I cried, “both you and your wings. Where may I go?”
11. “Your choice?”
12. “Jupiter! yes, to Jupiter!—bright, calm, silvery star!” And instantly I felt myself floating, floating—that same sweet, soothing motion I had known once before. Far, far away I sped through utter darkness, wishing I might ever rest on the soft safety of those wings, and never come back to troubled earth again.
13. “Come with me,” said he; and I followed. Presently a magnificent silver door swung open before us, and I saw visions that the wildest flights of my fancy had never pictured. There was a large hall reaching back almost out of sight. The walls were hung with finest purple silk, embroidered with gold, or studded with diamonds and pearls, and other glittering stones. Ranged around the room were chairs of golden frames and downy velvet cushions. Soft carpets buried the sound of the footsteps. Beautiful ornaments decked the room; and over all rested that same soft, lovely light, like the last, golden rays of a sunset in our world, only softer; giving a strange glory and beauty to the already-sparkling scene.
14. And I saw, through the many doors of silver, beautiful young maidens come flitting in, and throng around the richly-carved and gem-sparkling tables and ornaments, chatting and laughing, while the rich glow pervading the room lit up each face with a beauty never seen on earth. Tall, brave-looking men soon followed, elegantly dressed, in velvet, crimson silk, and diamonds, and staid, proud old ladies and gentlemen rustled into the yellow light, in rich, sober attire, till, looking down the hall as far as eye could reach, thronged the rich and beautiful.
15. Preparations for a feast seemed to be going forward with all dispatch. The tables were spread with sparkling glass, crystal, and silver, dishes filled with savory meats and tempting morsels. An exceedingly-tall man, in flowing white robes, gave thanks to our Heavenly Father, and the banqueting commenced. And how they seemed to enjoy it all! No selfishness was displayed—each seemed anxious that the other should enjoy any choice morsel he may have found, and I saw that a tempting bit was often handed from one to another in great delight. And strange, too, as each took his share, it seemed to increase instead of diminish the portion. But—oh, horrors! Even while I was admiring, to myself, their generosity, enjoyment, religion, and refinement, it became apparent that they were cannibals! Darkness, dizziness, an almost deathly faintness, came over me at this intelligence. I turned to my guide. “In the name of Mercy, what does this mean?”
16. He only smiled—a dark, mysterious smile, and said: “You could never tell which of those happy, innocent damsels will be the next victim.”
17. When I recovered my strength, I came forward and said,
18. “Friends! fellow-beings! In the name of that Being who rules both our planets, listen to me! I have seen your wealth and splendor, admired it as something we have not on earth; I have approved of your religion, appreciated your refinement. But in the midst of all this, I have discovered a crime so horrible that only the most savage and uncivilized of our globe are ever known to be guilty of so black a one. It is never heard of, even among the most ignorant, half-civilized people, without a deep thrill of horror. And here I find you, perhaps the most enlightened people of your globe, you who have every chance to know better, killing, and actually eating, with apparent delight, a human being taken from your very midst! You can have no true religion where such diabolical practices are countenanced.”
19. Here the priest came forward and begged leave to interrupt me.
20. “Allow me to assert, traveler from another world, that, horrible as you seem to think our habits, (which by the way we never thought so much about,) you have a practice as horrible and irreligious, on your own planet.”
21. I stopped him with a cry of dismay and contradiction. “Yes, it is true. We look down with wonder on you, refined, educated, pious, though you may be apparently, carelessly pursuing this practice. It appears as horrible to us, as our ‘black crime’ may appear to you. It is this: Sometimes busy persons, in your world, will pounce upon some poor girl’s reputation, feast upon it, ask every one to partake, and seemingly take the greatest delight in it. We know of nothing so horribly wicked and degrading as slander.”
22. “But, sir! slander is not encouraged there, as cannibalism appears to be here.”
23. No; you smoothly condemn the practice in a manner which gives not one smiting pang to a guilty conscience. You make a show of reproving scandalers, yet still their crime is a popular one. Now I advise you to go back and spend the remainder of your life in showing your own people the wickedness of this habit; and when the earth is free from it, visit us again, and if our crime yet exists, do your best to banish it. What were you doing just before you came here, but tasting a choice morsel of somebody’s reputation? I have no more to say.”
24. I bowed my head in shame. And when I looked up, the beautiful light had gone, the vision of splendor had faded away, and nothing was to be seen but a window through which the white snow gleamed, and Liddy Huld’s voice was clattering fast as ever:
25. “Yes; I was just saying, There ain’t the beat of that woman for meanness—”
26. “Liddy, I’ll hear no more of that. I’ll tell you what I’ve been dreaming when you thought I was listening, and I hope you never will slander again.” I had commenced my life-work.—School-Day Visitor.