When I found myserlf perched on a cloud, with a million other people, I never felt so good in my life. Says I, "Now this is according to the promises; I've been having my doubts, but now I am in heaven, sure enough." I gave my palm branch a wave or two, for luck, and then I tautened up my harp-strings and struck in. Well, Peters, you can't imagine anything like the row we made. It was grand to listen to, and made a body thrill all over, but there was considerable many tunes going on at once, and that was a drawback to the harmony, you understand; and then there was a lot of Injun tribes, and they kept up such another war-whooping that they kind of took the tuck out of the music. By and by I quit performing, and judged I'd take a rest. There was quite a nice mild old gentleman sitting next me, and I noticed he didn't take my hand; I encouraged him, but he said he was naturally bashful, and was afraid to try before so many people. By and by the old gentleman said he never could seem to enjoy music somehow. The fact was, I was beginning to feel the sameway; but I didn't say anything. Him and I had a considerable long silence, then, but of course it warn't noticeable in that place. After about sixteen or seventeen hours, during which I played and sung a little, now and then — always the same tune, because I didn't know any other — I laid down my harp and begun to fan myself with my palm branch. Then we both got to sighing pretty regular. Finally, say he —

"Don't you know any tune but the one you've been pegging at all day?"

"Not another blessed one," says I.

"Don't you reckon you could learn another one?" says he.

"Never," says I; "I've tried to, but I couldn't manage it."

"It's a long time to hang to the one — eternity, you know."

"Don't break my heart," says I; "I'm getting low-spirited enough already."

After another long silence, says he —

"Are you glad to be here?"

Says I, "Old man, I'll be frank with you. This ain't just as near my idea of bliss as I tought it was going to be, when I used to go to church."

Says he, "What do you say to knocking it off and calling it half a day?"

Extracts From Captain Stormfield's Visit To Heaven is the first-person account of a sea captain's trip to heaven after his death. The story opens with Stormfield flying through space on a comet, already in his 30th year of travelling the cosmos. Stormfield reckons his speed is one- fifth the speed of light. The captain comes upon another comet, and challenges its crew to a race. As Stormfield is passing his opponent, he thumbs his nose at it, which prompts the rival captain to discard his cargo of brimstone and zoom past Stormfield, leaving him in the dust.

Stormfield arrives at the gates of Heaven, but discovers he is at the wrong area due to veering off course during the comet race. He has a difficult time explaining the planet he is from, but finally the clerk knows Earth as the Wart. Upon entering Heaven, Stormfield uses a wishing carpet to teleport to his proper area of Heaven.

In his proper area, Stormfield is giving his angel gear: wings, halo, harp, etc. He notices that American Indians form a large contingent in this area of Heaven. Stormfield is taken to his cloud, and after a day of trying to sing and play the harp, as a proper angel should, he becomes despondent and averse to the idea of being an angel. An old acquaintance tells the captain that Heaven is a busy place, where people focus on enriching themselves in ways they weren't able to on Earth.

Stormfield has a tough time getting used to his wings, but is told they are used only on special occasions. A Brooklyn pastor is disappointed with Heaven when he learns that all people are welcomed there, and not just the pious, as he preached and believed.

Another surprise is that Heaven isn't a republic, but rather a very authoritarian kingdom, ruled over by God. The greatest prophets in Heaven are often regular people, who didn't get their just reward while living. For example, a Boston bricklayer named Jones, who was the greatest military genius ever produced, although he never had the chance to use his talent. Stormfield notices that white people are an insignificant minority in the American section of Heaven, and don't amount to anything.

The story ends with Stormfield joining millions of other angels in welcoming a reformed bartender who died the very night he accepted religion. Moses and Esau appear to welcome the bartender.