A HASTY INFERENCEThe Devil one day, coming up from the Pit,All grimy with perspiration,Applied to St. Peter and begged he'd admitHim a moment for consultation.The Saint showed him in where the Master reclinedOn the throne where petitioners sought him;Both bowed, and the Evil One opened his mindConcerning the business that brought him:"For ten million years I've been kept in a stewBecause you have thought me immoral;And though I have had my opinion of you,You've had the best end of the quarrel."But now—well, I venture to hope that the pastWith its misunderstandings we'll smother;And you, sir, and I, sir, be throned here at lastAs equals, the one to the other.""Indeed!" said the Master (I cannot conveyA sense of his tone by mere letters)"What makes you presume you'll be bidden to stayUp here on such terms with your betters?""Why, sure you can't mean it!" said Satan. "I've seenHow Stanford and Crocker you've nourished,And Huntington—bless me! the three like a greenUmbrageous great bay-tree have flourished.They are fat, they are rolling in gold, they commandAll sources and well-springs of power;You've given them houses, you've given them land—Before them the righteous all cower.""What of that?" "What of that?" cried the Father of Sin;"Why, I thought when I saw you were winkingAt crimes such as theirs that perhaps you had beenConverted to my way of thinking."
The Devil one day, coming up from the Pit,All grimy with perspiration,Applied to St. Peter and begged he'd admitHim a moment for consultation.The Saint showed him in where the Master reclinedOn the throne where petitioners sought him;Both bowed, and the Evil One opened his mindConcerning the business that brought him:"For ten million years I've been kept in a stewBecause you have thought me immoral;And though I have had my opinion of you,You've had the best end of the quarrel."But now—well, I venture to hope that the pastWith its misunderstandings we'll smother;And you, sir, and I, sir, be throned here at lastAs equals, the one to the other.""Indeed!" said the Master (I cannot conveyA sense of his tone by mere letters)"What makes you presume you'll be bidden to stayUp here on such terms with your betters?""Why, sure you can't mean it!" said Satan. "I've seenHow Stanford and Crocker you've nourished,And Huntington—bless me! the three like a greenUmbrageous great bay-tree have flourished.They are fat, they are rolling in gold, they commandAll sources and well-springs of power;You've given them houses, you've given them land—Before them the righteous all cower.""What of that?" "What of that?" cried the Father of Sin;"Why, I thought when I saw you were winkingAt crimes such as theirs that perhaps you had beenConverted to my way of thinking."