A COMMUTED SENTENCE

       Table of Contents

      Boruck and Waterman upon their grills

       In Hades lay, with many a sigh and groan,

       Hotly disputing, for each swore his own

       Were clearly keener than the other's ills.

       And, truly, each had much to boast of—bone

       And sinew, muscle, tallow, nerve and skin,

       Blood in the vein and marrow in the shin,

       Teeth, eyes and other organs (for the soul

       Has all of these and even a wagging chin)

       Blazing and coruscating like a coal!

       For Lower Sacramento, you remember,

       Has trying weather, even in mid-December.

       Now this occurred in the far future. All

       Mankind had been a million ages dead,

       And each to her reward above had sped,

       Each to his punishment below—I call

       That quite a just arrangement. As I said,

       Boruck and Waterman in warmest pain

       Crackled and sizzed with all their might and main.

       For, when on earth, they'd freed a scurvy host

       Of crooks from the State prison, who again

       Had robbed and ravaged the Pacific Coast

       And (such the felon's predatory nature)

       Even got themselves into the Legislature.

       So Waterman and Boruck lay and roared

       In Hades. It is true all other males

       Felt the like flames and uttered equal wails,

       But did not suffer them; whereas they bored Each one the other. But indeed my tale's Not getting on at all. They lay and browned Till Boruck (who long since his teeth had ground Away and spoke Gum Arabic and made Stump speeches even in praying) looked around And said to Bob's incinerated shade: "Your Excellency, this is mighty hard on The inventors of the unpardonable pardon." The other soul—his right hand all aflame, For 'twas with that he'd chiefly sinned, although His tongue, too, like a wick was working woe To the reserve of tallow in his frame— Said, with a sputtering, uncertain flow, And with a gesture like a shaken torch: "Yes, but I'm sure we'll not much longer scorch. Although this climate is not good for Hope, Whose joyous wing 'twould singe, I think the porch Of Hell we'll quit with a pacific slope. Last century I signified repentance And asked for commutation of our sentence." Even as he spoke, the form of Satan loomed In sight, all crimson with reflections's fire, Like some tall tower or cathedral spire Touched by the dawn while all the earth is gloomed In mists and shadows of the night time. "Sire," Said Waterman, his agitable wick Still sputtering, "what calls you back so quick? It scarcely was a century ago You left us." "I have come to bring," said Nick, "St. Peter's answer (he is never slow In correspondence) to your application For pardon—pardon me!—for commutation. "He says that he's instructed to reply (And he has so instructed me) that sin Like yours—and this poor gentleman's who's in For bad advice to you—comes rather high; But since, apparently, you both begin To feel some pious promptings to the right, And fain would turn your faces to the light, Eternity seems all too long a term. So 'tis commuted to one-half. I'm quite Prepared, when that expires, to free the worm And quench the fire." And, civilly retreating, He left them holding their protracted meeting.