Every one marvelled! The host addressed the Monomaniac in a gentle tone, entreating him to have more control over his temper, Those seated close to the supposed "enemy" declared loudly that he had made no grimaces; but their denial only increased the fury of the accuser. A bird— considered a great delicacy—had just been placed before the host. It was arranged, as were our dishes generally, to please the eye as well as the palate, being ornamented with olives, sweetmeats, and other ingredients of varied colours. Birds, I may incidentally remark, are cooked without the bones; these are skilfully taken out and serve to enrich the gravy.

The Monomaniac again rose suddenly and, before his arm could be arrested, seized the fowl, larded as it was with accessories and dripping with gravy, and with all his force hurled it whole, with unerring aim, at the face of the supposed enemy. So great was his excitement, and so rapid his movements, that he had seized one of the "knife-spoons," and had he not been arrested, would probably have hurled that, and, indeed, everything within reach against the object of his fury.

At private dinners the number of guests never exceeds twelve, and at the back of each, corresponding to every seat, is a small closet, ordinarily used by each guest for his ablutions. Into one of these the Monomaniac was placed with considerable difficulty, everything with which he could injure himself having been previously removed. By the doctor's order he was treated as a patient and, after some time, the result of the application of the tests, then only recently discovered, showed that he was much affected with brain animalcula, which had been generated by the exhaustion of one part of the brain, in consequence of the incessant occupations of another portion, by one all-engrossing subject, without the relief of sufficient air, recreation, and bodily exercise.

The "supposed enemy" and the Monomaniac had been both occupied on the same subject; the latter was much superior, and had consequently attained greater distinction. Nothwithstanding this, he was fearful that the "enemy" would ultimately excel him.

At the end of a few months the Monomaniac was completely cured. It was not, however, until after a year's travel and change of scene that he was allowed to resume his old studies. He now became more brilliant than ever, and we were indebted to him for some valuable discoveries. He had learned that his supposed enemy was a real friend and true admirer of his great talents. He never suffered again from the affliction, which, had it not been arrested in time, would have ended in confirmed madness. He became more than ever a strong advocate for the observance of my laws in favour of recreation.



XLII.

THEATRES.

ELECTRICAL ENTERTAINMENTS—AMUSEMENTS—INTRODUCTION OF STRANGERS.

"....Even the daisies of the field grow in company...."

Besides theatres of another kind, there are large arenas, where the entertainments principally consist of feats worked out by electricity and produce effects far beyond anything as yet known in your planet. These arenas are open to the sky, for electric effects are not exhibited in roofed buildings, from fear of the explosions which would probably occur were antagonistic electricities brought in contact with each other in a covered space.

The games exhibited are varied; but, in all, electricity has some part. As I have already said, we have electricities, some attractive, some antipathetic to the human frame,—and by the aid of both kinds many interesting feats are performed.

I have seen a man and horse in the arena, who, at a given signal, would rise gradually and gracefully to a distance of more than fifty feet from the earth. When suspended in the air a cloud, like fire, would encircle them, and then after a certain time, sufficient for the spectators to observe and admire them, they would alight on the earth as gradually and gracefully as they had ascended.

THE FLYING CHILDREN.

In one of these arenas is a large sheet of running water, supplied by a cataract in the neighbourhood; and I have seen the most beautiful effects produced by children gliding over and as it were dancing on its surface. The children are selected from the most graceful and beautiful of those, who, not having sufficient intellect to learn, give no signs of making a progress which would fit them for more important occupations.

These children are taught and willed to move in the most graceful forms. Joining hands and forming exceedingly beautiful groups, they will glide over the cascade and over the surface of the agitated lake, walking, dancing, or reposing.

WILL.

In assuming these graceful forms, the children are aided by a person skilled in the use of the Will, who, with the assistance of our "sympathetic-attracting machines," [1] can will the children to take the most varied and graceful positions. The effect is fascinating, elevating, and refining.

[Footnote 1: See p. 265.]

The man who directs the sympathetic machine, wills the figures from his imagination or memory, this being part of the art in which he is skilled.

In your planet, you do not know the extent of the power of the Will; and yet it is the Will—the Will of the Soul—which sets our vital electricity in motion, directs it on particular parts of its own machine—the brain—or on the sentient faculties of others. This same vital electricity can be used with greater force and certainty of direction, when assisted by the instrument which I have called "the sympathetic machine."

THE DEAF AND DUMB CHILD.

I have seen one little girl deaf and dumb—the only instance in my time—in consequence of a fright her mother had experienced. The child was of so nervous a temperament, that she could not be taught anything intellectual. She was lovely, with long hair that fell about her in graceful curls, and in whatever way she sat, moved, or reclined, her poses and movements were angelic.

It was found that the only thing which would awaken her dormant senses was electricity; and that, under its influence, she would be well and happy.

This child was at length taught to remain for some time together in one of her beautiful poses.

The circus in which I saw her is built close to a mountain or steep ascent, which rises almost perpendicularly to a great height. By the power of an attractive electricity, she would be made—whilst in one of her beautiful poses—to rise gradually, and to be borne flying, as it were, in the air. She would then be made to alight on the top of the high rock, where a halo of concentrated light was thrown on her; this clung about her, attracted by a solution with which her dress was sponged. The light was calculated to remain undissipated for half an hour.

After some time, and having taken the most graceful poses, encircled with the lovely halo, the child would glide off the rock and descend slowly and gracefully through the air—with the varied colours of the halo about her—as though she were a being of the celestial stars.

Of all exhibitions, I have never seen any more beautiful than this. It served admirably to raise, refine, and rouse the spectator to enthusiasm.

THE MONKEYS.

On the other hand, some of our electric exhibitions produce mirth. For instance, the effect of electricity on the monkeys in Montalluyah—who are very sagacious, having faces white like a human being, and talking like parrots—is ludicrous in the extreme. When engaged in chewing and eating their favourite nuts, they find themselves, in spite of their cunning, raised to a great height, without seeing the man underneath their pedestal, who impels them upwards with antipathetic electricity.

When they are thus in the air, and, in spite of all efforts, unable to descend, their antics are of the drollest kind. They, in turn, threaten and entreat the audience, but are soon reassured and liberally rewarded for the parts they have played in amusing the public.

Apart from the contemplation of electrical effects, these amusements may appear somewhat puerile. It should therefore be observed that our people generally retain to the last an almost child-like freshness of feeling, which renders them keenly susceptible to the most innocent pleasures. The tragic drama is for us extinct. Towards the middle of my reign, plays based upon crime ceased to be heard with pleasure, as the new generation, trained under the wholesome influence of my laws, could scarcely understand a plot relating to passions entirely foreign to their nature. The writers for our theatres, properly so called, have since that period confined themselves to subjects illustrative of country life in plain and mountain, and to incidents which, though happening at a distance, are known to occur.

No accidents arise. Our professors are very skilful, knowing the exact quantities of electricity required for a given time, and at what rate its power will decrease. Electricity in all its variations is thoroughly understood by our electricians.

Electricity, indeed, now forms part of the studies of youth in general, and its leading features form part of the early knowledge taught to both girls and boys.

There are races and public games of all kinds, and, besides the fetes and amusements given by private persons, there are balls and social reunions given by the districts.

Even children have their parties and balls, to which they are taken from four years of age and upwards. The labouring people, or poor, have theirs. They go to work more cheerfully when they know that amusements are to follow, and return to their labours with redoubled energy. They are now contented and happy.

Old people, although allowed to attend the soirees of the young, have parties of their own, to which none who have not passed a certain age are admitted.

One day in the week is set apart for amusements of all kinds.

To the reunions given by the districts, all who have passed a certain age are invited, every seven days, until the age of forty; after forty, once in three weeks; after sixty, once in every six weeks. All who have not passed their fortieth year are expected to attend these reunions. Those who have passed forty may attend as often as they please.

INTRODUCTION OF STRANGERS.

Amongst these reunions there are balls and parties given on certain days in every month, for the introduction of strangers coming from other parts, who are received in a separate room by the Master of the Ceremonies, or, as we say, "Introducer of Strangers." Having satisfied himself of the status of the strangers, this officer announces the name of the eldest and conducts him round the great room, where all the company are assembled, which duty performed, he conducts the guest back to the strangers' room, and then, having returned into the assembly-room, asks if any one wished to make objection to the stranger's reception. If none is made, the visitor is escorted back and presented to the whole company, and the most distinguished amongst them are expected to take him by the hand and seat him by their side.

This ceremony over, the stranger is allowed to visit every person present at their residences, where he is received with great hospitality.

When, however, in answer to the Introducer's question, any one says, "I do object to be introduced to that person," he is required to state his reasons, which the "Introducer" writes down, and which the objector is required to read and sign.

The "Introducer" then proceeds to the strangers' room, and says to the proposed guest, "We find it will not be agreeable to terminate the presentation to-night, so we reserve it for another day," which is fixed accordingly.

On the following day, the most effective means are taken to test the validity of the objections, and it has been found that the few cases of objection that have been raised have been almost invariably based on error, or on exaggerated trifles, which would scarcely bear a moment's examination.

As a record of every one's career is faithfully kept, we have ready means of making ourselves acquainted with every one's antecedents and, consequently, of testing the validity of the "objections."

The objections being removed, the stranger is received with a hearty welcome. When conducted into the assembly-room, the person who made the objections having been pointed out to him, he is addressed as follows:—"In all this great assembly, this is the only person who urged anything against you, and we find that all he imagined arose from misconception [or as the case may be]. This we have taken every pains to rectify, and we leave to you to do what may be pleasing to yourself, in order to convince him still more completely of his error; and you have our best wishes that unity, harmony, and peace may exist between you." This done, the newly-received guest is seated between the principal personages, and is treated with, if possible, more kindness and consideration than if no objection had been made. In each class we follow the same custom, which we find works admirably well. It is peculiarly adapted to our system.

THE ATTRACTING-MACHINE.

I have spoken above of our sympathetic attracting-machine, and I may mention here that by means of certain acids acted on by the sun's rays, a person can be compelled to move even from a great distance towards a given point in the way willed by the operator. It is, however, necessary to discover, first; the particular acids that have most affinity with the person to be attracted. To ascertain these with certainty, there is a little instrument with many separate cells, all communicating by means of its tube with one little ball, and each containing a different acid.

Unless some attraction, or power in sympathy with the acids, is applied to the ball, the acids remain quiescent, each in its separate compartment. To discover what acids have most attractive force with a given person, the ball is placed against his breast, whereupon the portions of those acids which have affinity with him rush forth from their respective cells up each tube into the ball, where they immediately commingle, forming one compound liquid of unequal component parts. The scientific man charged with the operation then notes the exact quantities of each of the component acids, and all pertinent particulars.

This is an easy process. Each principal acid is weighed before being placed in its cell, which is open from the top; and before the ball is removed from the chest, what remains of each acid is taken out from its compartment and re-weighed. The difference between the weights, before and after the operation, gives the exact weight of each acid, forming one of the component parts of the amalgamated fluid in the ball.

It is rare that the exact proportions of the same acids are applicable to any two men, though, as in the case of faces, the difference may be so slight as almost to approach identity. In some it is very great; but the same kinds of acids suffice to ascertain the attractive power of every individual.

The particular sympathetic acids and their proportions having been ascertained, the attracting-machine is prepared and charged with a large quantity of the sympathetic compound, sufficiently powerful to attract the person selected, although placed at some distance. To be effective, however, the operation must take place while the sun is shining; and it is also necessary that the person directing the machine should exercise a certain amount of will tending towards the end desired. The power of will is great, and there are a few persons who can make others do certain things without the aid of the instrument, by the power of will alone; but, in such cases, the person "willing" must be near the person acted on.



XLIII.

SHIPS.

"Would ye triumph over the seas in all their fury? Would ye spare the lives of those who toil for you? Let your ships he harder than the rocks, swifter than the message-bird, more buoyant than the swan, and as enduring as the Mestua Mountain."

Our ships are of peculiar form and construction, and of all but exhaustless strength and durability. In ancient times the form of a fish had been taken as a model for their construction, and the same form was continued for centuries. The ships built on this principle, however, often foundered at sea, or were broken to pieces, when driven against the rocks, by the violence of tempests.

Moved by the loss of life and consequent suffering thus occasioned, I sought to construct a vessel that could neither founder nor be broken, at whatever speed it might move.

I reasoned that a fish, formed to live and to act principally under the water, was hardly a fit model for ships intended to float on its surface, and certainly not to sink.

After much consideration on the part of our scientific men, the form of the swan was successfully adopted as best fitted for sea-going ships.

Our "Swan-ships," as I may call them, are constructed of timbers, previously seasoned to prevent insect breeding and to resist all tendency to shrink, and are completely covered with the hide of the hippopotamus, which, it should be observed, is impervious to water, and, when prepared for use, is so tough that no knife or machine, however sharp or powerful, can cut, pierce, or indeed make any impression upon it, until it has passed through a process, in which fire has a great part, and is thus purposely deprived of its impenetrable nature.

In the construction of the ship, the outline of the swan is followed as nearly as possible. The prow rises out of the water, shaped like the bird's neck and head; the keel is rounded like the belly; the stern is an imitation of the tail; the legs are supplied by two large adjuncts in the shape of webbed feet, with the addition, however, of numerous wheels fastened round the swan's belly, which are partially immersed in the water and moved by powerful machinery within the vessel.

On each side of the swan's body is an auxiliary platform, forming, as it were, a wing. These platforms are raised in fine weather, and serve as open-air promenades for the passengers, in addition to another terrace on the swan's back, immediately above.

The ship has no masts, and is thus available throughout for passengers and merchandise. The apertures between the decking, that admit light and air, can be closed up at a moment's notice, and the vessel, being thus rendered water-tight, will ride through the most violent storm. No rocks can break her, and no sea can swamp her.

During hurricanes the seas rise so high and in such large masses, that, in descending, they sometimes submerge her; but she is too buoyant to sink, soon regains the surface, and floats on as buoyant as ever.

The navigation in our world would on your earth be considered very dangerous, if not impracticable. The swan-ship, even when driven by the tempest, must often pass through narrow inlets between dangerous rocks, sometimes under the rocks, through channels scooped out by the sea. The force of the hurricanes and the violence of the seas are tremendous. Your most powerful ships could not live through them, yet no serious accident has ever befallen one of our vessels. On one occasion, when the ship was submerged for a time, the people suffered greatly from want of air, as the sea was too terribly rough to allow of any window being opened. After remaining covered by the waters for a length of time, she righted herself as soon as the violence of the waves had calmed.

On their return to Montalluyah, some of the passengers related to me their acute sufferings from want of air, and as their narrative affected me much, I resolved to discover a remedy.

Telescopic funnels to admit air were suggested by me as a provision for such a contingency as I have described. These are so constructed that in case of need they can be sent up to a great height above the surface of the sea. The principal one is placed in the head of the swan. Several experiments were made with air-pumps in the ship to draw in and diffuse air, and they fully answered this purpose.

Air can still be admitted through the head and neck of the swan, if the body only is submerged; but if this also is covered by the sea, the telescopic funnel is sent up to the required height and a new current of air is obtained. Light and air are, under ordinary circumstances admitted by means of windows made with a transparent composition of great strength.

The swan's head is reserved for the captain's quarters. His rooms are spacious and well suited to his work; his windows are, some plane, some concave, some convex, so that he can see both near and distant objects. As the swan's head is high above the body of the swan, the captain occupies a very commanding position. Outside the head there is a terrace for his use.

Our ships are very large, that each passenger may have the utmost accommodation, for we do not like to imprison our people in a narrow space; and an ordinary vessel holds several hundred passengers, besides merchandise.

To propel our vessels we use electric power, and they move as fast as your quickest railway trains; but nevertheless can be stopped almost instantaneously. The wheels outside the body of the swan, set in motion by internal electric machinery, revolve with extraordinary rapidity. To set the machinery in motion it is necessary to wind up powerful chains, and a strong horse is used for the purpose. One horse is sufficient for the longest voyage, but four are kept on board in case of accidents. The machinery could be so constructed that the horse would not be necessary; but for this arrangement much more space would be required. If even all the horses were disabled—a thing which hitherto has never occurred—the machinery could be kept in motion by manual power and leverage.

Though the propelling power is great, it can be reversed, moderated, or entirely suspended with the greatest ease. As soon as the ship is stopped, the two large "web-feet" attached to the keel fall down and assist in checking her headway.

To steer our vessels we use a winch or rudder, which runs from stem to stern underneath the swan's belly, and is connected with a wheel below the water. This rudder, which is made of metal and covered with hippopotamus hide, is sharp and slightly rounded. The mode in which it is fixed gives the steersman great control over the vessel, the more so as it moves the swan's head as well as the tail by direct action.

TIMBER FOR SHIPS.

Before timber is employed for ships, or indeed for constructions of any kind, it is thoroughly seasoned by being exposed to the sun at particular hours of the day. Timbers that have passed through this process never shrink or warp.

In accordance with my directions, wood cannot be used in shipbuilding until so prepared that no insects will touch it.

In certain parts of the bottom of the great ravine is a liquid, the admixture of refuse of all kinds. After some years this liquid becomes of a golden colour for the depth of about two inches only; beneath, it is of a muddy brown. It was accidentally discovered that the golden liquor so hardened wood that no insect could make any impression upon it, and no moisture could penetrate the fibres. There is some difficulty in skimming and obtaining the liquid in a pure state; but the operation having been performed, it is carefully preserved in large vats and remains ready for use.

The timber having been thoroughly seasoned in the sun, each plank is cut and shaped to the exact form required, and is then soaked in this liquid. If the process of cutting were delayed till after the timber had been soaked, the parts where the cuttings had been made would be unprotected from the insects. If the soaking were delayed until after the ship had been put together, the four sides of each of the timbers where it is joined to other timbers, would in like manner be unprotected, and the insects would eat their way between. The care exercised was the more necessary, as it was essential that the wood under the hippopotamus hide should be preserved from internal as well as external influences. If the wood had shrunk after it had been once covered, parts of the hide would become slack, and serious inconveniences would have ensued. I never knew one of our Swan vessels to spring a leak or to wear out. The vessels built under my rule will exist unimpaired for many centuries, whilst those built under the former system were broken to pieces on account of their foulness and leakage, chiefly caused by the ravages of insects.

THE COMPASS.

The compass used in our ships is different to yours, being based on the fact that each country has a different attraction to certain liquids. In short, we apply an electrical power entirely unknown to you.

THE ANCHOR.

The anchor is made of iron-marble, which is the strongest composition we have, and which, you will recollect, was used in the construction of the Mountain Supporter.

In shape the anchor resembles a body with six legs, like a fly—three on either side. Each leg has a crook at the end, which will grapple firmly wherever the least hold can be obtained.

The anchor is let out and hauled in by machinery made on a principle resembling the machinery of the ship itself, but, of course, on a very much smaller scale.

The rope holding the anchor is made of Bisson hair, a very strong material; and although there is little probability of its breaking, there are four other ropes of the same material secured to the body of the anchor, to serve in case of accidents. There is no strain whatever in the meantime on these reserved ropes, which hang slack, and would only come taut and into play in case of the principal rope being broken.



XLIV.

PICTURES FROM WATER.

"The records of your actions are borne in the waters, in the air, in electricity, in the unknown powers that, by the command of Him who made them all, pervade infinite space. His might is everywhere; and the man who transgresses, sins in the presence of myriads of witnesses."

In my reign some interesting discoveries were made with regard to water.

From a source situated in the midst of a lovely scene flowed a spring of remarkably pure quality, some drops of which, taken at a distance, presented, when viewed through a microscope, a true picture of the landscape close to the source from whence they came. Rocks, trees, shrubs, sky, were there faithfully delineated with their varied forms and colours, together with the resemblances of two persons, lovers, seated on the banks. As we afterwards learned, they had been attracted by the beauty of the scene, had sat for a long time in the same place, and their portrait was, as it were, fixed on the water.

The electricity of the sun and light had thrown the shadow or picture of the scene on the fluid, whose electricity had been sufficiently strong to retain it, and bear it to the spot whence the drops of water had been taken. This circumstance, and our knowledge that the reflecting power of the water is the result in part of its peculiar electricity, led to a very interesting discovery.

With the assistance of a powerfully attracting electric machine we can produce, together with the surrounding landscape, the likeness of a person, or of a group, actually many miles from the machine, if near the water. The image is received on the reflecting mirror of the machine, and an artist immediately copies outlines and colours.

With the aid of the attracting machine we have obtained pictures of our Swan-vessels, though a long way out at sea, with the passengers on the decks; who, on arriving, have been surprised to find their likenesses, with a similitude of the costume they wore while on board.

The machine, through the medium of the water, throws its attracting power many miles out through the sea, and reflects objects back on a large plate of a kind of ground-glass. The objects reflected are not fixed permanently, but remain on the plate for about an hour and a half after the connection with the machine has ceased. During this time an artist traces the picture which it is desired to retain, and fills in the colours. The reflection thrown is indeed little more than a pale-coloured shadow, but we make of it a reality at will.

Our knowledge of the properties of water enables us, with the aid of an electric-attracting machine, to see the bottom of the sea. Images of the deepest parts are thrown upon the mirror, the force of the machine being increased according to the depth of the sea, and the distance from the machine.

Some parts of the bottom of the sea reveal nothing but uninhabited, uneven ground, whilst other parts present the appearance of an inhabited world. We have seen the entrances to large caverns with what may be called doors, and immense moving masses; flowers and parterres of most delicate and lovely beauty; varieties of precious stones, forming devices and figures of different kinds; and large shrubs that glistened as diamonds in the sun, and thriving and blossoming, seemed replete with life. In other parts of the sea lie strewn in irregular masses things of every description in incredible quantities, heaps upon heaps, as though these parts had at some time been dry land, where riches of every description had been congregated. A description of the wonders seen would fill many volumes.



XLV.

THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.

"Ye seek Elikoia's life....Ye watch to make sure of your prey, when the boy is alone, his thoughts fixed on high....Ye shall wear hideous forms, ye shall wander on the land, as well as on the water, but nowhere shall ye find rest. Ye shall dread and be dreaded by all; ye shall constantly be put to death, that your hide and carcase at least may serve for useful purposes in the land that ye have denied.... Ye shall be slain with no more compunction than when a man cuts down a tree with which to make his hut." [1]....

[Footnote 1: The above belongs to the ancient mythology of Montalluyah.]

Hippopotami are very numerous in my planet; their breed is encouraged, for they are found to be invaluable.

They are of a cruel nature, and there is much antipathy between them and human beings. Apart from the valuable uses to which they are made subservient, these beasts are regarded in our planet with a feeling akin to that with which you regard the serpent, it having been supposed in the early ages of our world that the hippopotamus embodied a portion of the spirit of the enemy of mankind.

THE HIPPOPOTAMUS HIDE.

The hide of the beast is of remarkable strength and durability, and is impervious to water; indeed, its toughness is, if possible, increased by immersion. It is used for a variety of purposes, forming a covering for our vessels, the want of which nothing could supply in our tempestuous and rocky seas. It serves most effectually to insulate and protect our electric telegraphs both by land and sea. It resists the most violent usage, and no force, without the application of fire, can break it, for it is so tough, even in an unprepared state, that it can only be severed or penetrated by the application of fire and red-hot penetrating-irons.

The nearest approach to the hide of the hippopotamus is that of the rhinoceros; but this is not so tough or so durable, and it is inferior in other qualities.

The value of the hippopotamus is incalculable. Whilst alive, we can extract from him a powerful electricity. When dead, besides the innumerable purposes to which the hide is applied, his bones, marrow, oil, fat, and, indeed, every part of the carcase, are of great value.

Some portions of the ugly beast are made subservient to the beautiful, for they are used in the arts to give additional brilliancy to colours.

The bones, which are susceptible of a beautiful polish like ivory, and are transparent, are used for articles of elegant furniture and ornaments of varied beauty.

At some distance from Montalluyah is a large tract of country, called "Hippopotamus Land," where there is an abundance of everything that the beasts like or need, such as sand, moss, nut-trees, and a peculiar plant, which is their favourite food.

Numerous herds are kept on this land, and also in enclosures, as deer are preserved in your parks. In charge of them are numerous herdsmen or keepers, who may be compared to so many shepherds looking after the sheep, though the animals they tend are far more valuable.

From habit, the keepers understand all the ways and movements of their flock.

With a view to startle the animals as little as possible, the keepers are clothed in a dress made of hippopotamus-skin, the outside of which is preserved in its natural state, and it is so arranged that the men may appear like familiar figures to the mothers and the young, and not excite their fear.

It is known in Montalluyah that wild beasts often attack man from fear, lest he should do them harm.

The skin worn by the keeper is saturated with a solution made from a strong-smelling herb, to which the animals have great antipathy; and even though they may approach and smell the skin, they soon turn away, without hurting the watcher.

The beast's antipathy to this herb was discovered by accident. It happened that a herd of hippopotami were driven on land where it grew abundantly; they instantly rushed furiously into the water, and, in spite of every effort and stratagem, could not be made to return to the shore.

Suspecting that this herb was the cause of their contumacy, we took a young hippopotamus, and kept him without food till he became quite ravenous. Some of the tender herbs were then brought, but he would not touch them, and evinced other symptoms of antipathy, while he showed his ravenousness by trying to seize the keeper. He was still kept without food, and the herbs were left within his reach, but he would not approach them, though, as soon as some of his usual food was brought, he greedily devoured it.

These beasts formerly infested the rivers which run through our cities; and a very powerful solution from the herb, which they could scent at a considerable distance, was prepared by our chemists. We have great locks at the entrances of our rivers. In these are concave places in which the preparation is deposited, and the dangerous beasts are thus kept at a great distance.

In our world the hippopotami are very fond of freshwater rivers. There is a large stream called the Aoe, the waters of which have a peculiar attraction for these beasts, and I have seen it covered with them for miles.

The waters of this river are very prejudicial to man; perhaps the qualities which make them agreeable to the beast render them antipathetic to man's constitution.

In their native state, the beasts like the land as much as the water, preferring it indeed during the prevalence of certain winds. I could tell, by the direction of these, whether few or many of the animals would come ashore. From my observatory, I have seen thousands together a long way off, looking like countless swarms of flies, and all moving in a compact mass, as though they were gregarious to the highest degree. When seen from a short distance, they look like a moving lead-colour bog. I have sent to caution the hunters, for on occasion the large herds are dangerous.

HABITS.

There are times when the hippopotami seek to be invisible; they then bury themselves in the sand, and not one can be seen. At other times, miles of country are covered with them.

When the wind is in a particular quarter it causes a remarkable musical sound in its passage through the hollow rocks, which seems particularly sympathetic to the hippopotami. If, at the time the "musical sound" is heard, the sun shines, they with great rapidity place the young ones together, running round them as round a central point in a succession of circles. They jump and bound, pass and repass each other, and as it were dance with joy, in a state of great excitement continuing their energetic gambols all the time the musical sound is heard, until, exhausted with their exertions, they lie down and sleep.

It is a grand sight to see large herds of hippopotami so joyfully excited. They never act thus when stimulated by fear, but stand doggedly for some time, as though examining the cause of the disturbance, and as soon as the terror has mastered them they rush away, running at a great speed.

When they pair, they are generally constant to each other, and the female usually remains at the side of her mate: but some are capricious, and go about as if seeking other males of the herd. When the female is thus inconstant, her partner, after a time, tries to destroy her and her young, though pains are taken to prevent this result.

To save the female and her young, we have occasionally been obliged to kill the male with arrows steeped in a poison so powerful, that the slightest graze will cause instant death.

The mother is generally much attached to her young. She buries it in the sand, leaving an aperture through which it may breathe, and she lies at its side. If the temperature changes, or she fancies the calf has not sufficient heat, she will cover the aperture for a time with her head, or some part of her body. She gathers nuts, which the young one likes, and will sometimes wander for miles along the strand of rivers to seek a small fish, which she kills, and brings back to the spot where the calf has been left buried in the sand.

When the young one is sickly, and does not respond to the signs of the mother, she fancies the little creature does not like her, and leaves it to die.

REARING HIPPOPOTAMI.

In Montalluyah there are large lakes, protected and enclosed by iron-work, where hippopotami are reared.

These are interspersed with land, on which we deposit large quantities of sand and moss.

We are very successful in rearing the animals, but we take care that they should have facilities for following their natural habits.

I believe you have not been able to rear these beasts in Western Europe. You might do so by observing their habits, and even by attending to a few simple precautions. If you were once successful they would increase rapidly, and you would soon discover their inestimable value.

This is the course we pursue when the animal is reared in confined situations:

As soon as the female has conceived, a quantity of sand and moss is placed on the ground at the side of the water. This is done without loss of time, that the beast may be accustomed to the sight. Shortly, if left to herself, she will wallow in the mixture, and as soon as the young one is born, will place it in the sand, covering it over with moss.

As already observed, the female, when running wild in a state of nature, lays the young one in the sand as soon as it is born, covering every part of the body, and then overlaying it with moss. On this account, we take care to deposit the sand and moss where the animal can easily find them.

The beasts are of a very suspicious nature, and if the sand and moss were not placed near the female until after her young one was born, she would be afraid of them.

The mother is treated with great kindness, and is not allowed in any way to be teased or used harshly.

The hippopotamus is a very nervous animal, and is besides very vicious and irritable. The female does not easily forget an injury, particularly when with young. If in any way used unkindly, the effects of the vexation will endure for a long time after the birth of the young one, which will come into the world in a weakly state, and will not thrive. If it does not soon die, the mother will kill it; for, when ill-treated either before or after parturition, the mother is ordinarily impelled to destroy the calf. She is often so nervous, that, when with calf, she cannot bear to be looked at and is then placed apart in an enclosure reserved expressly for the purpose, which is hoarded round, and no one but the keeper is allowed to approach her.

In a state of nature, the beast is accustomed to wander over large tracts especially favoured by sun and light; even the water he swims in is warmed by the sun. In the gardens in which you strive to rear these beasts, they are kept in dark miserable places, where the water is cold, and which the sun rarely penetrates. You are not kind to them yourselves, and, besides, you allow visitors to tease them.

These errors alone are sufficient to prevent the mother bringing forth a calf that will thrive.

In your cold and variable climates you would do well to have an enclosed place, a kind of conservatory covered over with glass, arranged so as to be opened in warm weather, particularly when the sun shines, and closed during the greater part of the winter, at which time the water, in which the beasts swim, should be warmed by a genial heat diffused through the building. This plan would be much more profitable than your actual dear economy.

If from any cause it is found judicious to separate the mother and the young one, care should be taken to effect the separation immediately after the birth, before the natural food has been tasted, or at least before it has become familiar to the young one, and the calf should be placed where it cannot hear the mother's moaning call.

Warmed sand and moss should be in readiness, in which to immerse and all but cover the little one.

Goat's milk, or other substitutes for the mother's milk, must be administered whilst quite warm and just drawn from the goat. If allowed to stand, the liquid would injure instead of doing good, and even if artificially warmed would not be so beneficial as the new milk.

It is not improbable that the calf will at first refuse the proffered beverage. The expedients for causing the animal to drink should be devised so as to avoid all unnecessary annoyance, and if this precaution be attended to the animal will of its own accord soon drink the warm milk, and take other proper food.

The room where the young one is kept should be of an equal warmth both day and night. In a state of nature the mother obtains this equalization of the temperature, and protects the young one from the comparative chilliness of the night air by lying across the sand in which she has placed the object of her care.

The removal of the young one from the mother is effected with ease; and as this process is with you accompanied by many inconveniences, besides being very difficult and dangerous, a few hints as to our mode of proceeding may be of use.

We have four very long sockets peculiarly formed at their base, so that they can be thrust for a long distance into the sandy ground, and there take the firmest hold. They are placed at certain distances about the spot where the mother lies, and into them are inserted four poles of great strength, so arranged that they stand at the angles of a square or parallelogram, sustaining a framework surmounted by planks sufficiently strong to support four men in case of need, though sometimes two only are required. The men, who are very skilful, are stationed one on each side of the plank, armed with a large strong net, made of a soft and agreeable material, which, as soon as the young one is born, they let down very gradually, so as to disturb the mother as little as possible. Should she be annoyed at the appearance of the net, they hold their hands, keeping it suspended, and as soon as she is appeased and closes her eyes, let it down again, still very slowly, almost imperceptibly, until it has reached the ground, close to where the young one is lying, so contriving that when the little creature moves it will be upon the net.

As soon as the young one is fairly on the net, the men apply several long canes furnished with grappling-hooks, and draw up the net containing the young one. While doing this, they throw over the mother a material which impedes her movement, and which we call by a name that may be freely translated, "Clinging Flannel." The animal thus encumbered cannot disentangle herself for a few minutes, more than sufficient to secure the capture of the little one, which, as soon as it has been raised is let down into a vehicle ready to receive it. The instant this is done, the driver and all being in readiness, the horses start off at full gallop, and the calf is secured in a place far out of hearing of the mother.

We can almost invariably tell whether the mother is likely to destroy the young one; and if from this or other causes a separation is necessary, a similar course is pursued, even when the mother is at large. If we had not effective means of driving off the rest of the herd, the difficulty of the operation of removal would be greatly increased, for, strange to say, as soon as the calf is born numbers of hippopotami assemble at certain distances and form a wide circle round the spot where the mother and little one are lying. They do not interfere with or annoy them in any way, but, on the contrary, they stand still, look at them, and utter wild, joyous sounds, as though they were pleased with the mother and the little visitor. In Montalluyah we call this "the hippopotamus's visit of congratulation."

Before I describe the mode adopted when we wish to take one of the hippopotami from the herd, I should first premise that these beasts have the sense of hearing, acute to the highest degree, and could note even the fall of a pin. As, therefore, it is useless to try to approach them by stealth, the keepers approach them openly.

These men are, however, clothed with a dress which covers every part of the body, head and extremities indeed even the face, with the exception of the eyes, but which is made of a very pliable material, so that the wearer has free use of his body and limbs. It is saturated with the antipathetic solution, of which I have spoken above.

There is a three-cornered nut called the "lava-nut," of which the animals are very fond, and they will go a long distance in search of it. The keepers are provided with a quantity of these nuts, and the man with whom the animals are most familiar throws a few to the one selected. As soon as the animal has tasted them, he advances a few paces. The keeper, throwing more nuts, retires a few paces; and as he continues throwing, the animal advances, the keeper receding and throwing the nuts until he has attracted the beast for some distance from the herd.

Near the keeper is a party of men furnished with a low caravan, who, while the animal is engaged eating the nuts, throw large nets over him. He struggles violently—it is, indeed, fearful to behold him; but, in the meanwhile, a very skilful man approaches, and throws over his head a cap or covering of a particular kind of wool, which for the time completely blinds him. So utterly is he cowed, that in a few minutes he is quite quiet, and it is surprising to see the difference that a simple contrivance has effected. The caravan immediately approaches with levers attached to it, by the aid of which the animal is easily put on the carriage and carried off to the place of his destination.

It is surprising to see the immediate effect on the animal when the cap is taken off. He is for the time quite docile, and as easily managed as a child.

An animal thus captured is never so wild and vicious as when with the herd, and often becomes comparatively tame.

On the other hand, the animal increases in cunning, and if again set at liberty, he still remembers how he was once served, and utterly disregards the nuts with which he may be tempted.

In our world a plant grows wild, which is much liked by the hippopotamus. It forms a bulb which contains a sort of meal, while the stem contains a juice. In my planet large patches of ground, particularly in the vicinity of rivers, abound with these plants, which grow thickly together like wheat, and in long blades.

The beast eats these plants in the green, the ripe, and the over-ripe states; and as they are thrown up in some places when others have been exhausted, the herds will pass over large tracts of country to get at their favourite food.

The nearest approach to this food in your world would be parched flour mixed with water. It would of course be preferable if the plant itself could be found.

In confined situations, when the young are sickly, we feed them with turnips and new milk boiled together. This compound is with us a sovereign remedy, and almost invariably restores them, but cannot be safely administered till the animal is at least a month old.



XLVI.

WILD ANIMALS.

"The hippopotamus exceeds the mite in size, strength, and usefulness to man far less than do the riches yet concealed in the air, in the earth, in the waters, on the land, exceed those already possessed by Montalluyah."

I may mention here, that although the hippopotamus is to us the most valuable of all the wild animals, nearly all other beasts furnish us with materials that are turned to account.

The serpent, and particularly the boa, possesses wondrous properties. Birds of prey, many insects, and, in fact, nearly all that has life, is turned to some use. The living animals generally contain electricity of more or less value.

A large body of professors are kept by the State solely for the purpose of examining the various medicinal and other qualities found in the fat, marrow, oil, bones, and carcases of animals.

This is the mode of capturing lions, tigers, and many other wild beasts, when it is desirable to take them alive:

The huntsmen selected are men of a fearless, daring nature, and of great address and agility.

A net of iron-work of very large dimensions is taken into the wilds most frequented by the beast. This net is placed on the ground and covered over with leaves and other, materials so as to be concealed from view.

Close to one extremity of the network a pit is dug, in which is placed a hut large enough to contain two men. The pit is then covered over, though an aperture is left sufficiently large to admit air and to serve for observation and egress from the hut, from the top of which is an opening corresponding to the aperture above.

In the centre of the net some dead goats have been previously placed with a stuff of a very savoury odour, which the beast can smell for miles off, and which is so strong that when he approaches, he does not scent the men in the hut.

The rest of the hunters lie in wait in a secure place. The two concealed in the pit are on the watch, and as soon as the beast has seized the goat or is fairly within the net, they give the alarm by hoisting a long pole, and the men in ambush slip out, and by a dexterous movement close all sides of the net, which is constructed with this view, so as to form one large cage.

The efforts of the animals to break out are useless; they first rage about in all directions, but the joints of the net are so constructed that they yield without breaking.

When it is not desirable to take the animals alive their capture is more easy. One mode of killing them is as follows:—A man stations himself among the branches of a high tree, near the haunts of the animals, and holds a long pole which hangs downwards, and at the end of this a dead rabbit is fixed, in which, besides a strongly-smelling stuff, is placed a deadly poison. As soon as the wild beast sees the rabbit, he makes a dash at the pole, seizes the rabbit, eats it and, the effects of the poison being instantaneous, falls down almost immediately to expire.

Dead animals are not allowed to be brought into the city, but are flayed in the country, where are also our manufactories and other establishments, in which everything valuable in the carcase of the beast can be readily utilised.

Some of our beasts are unlike yours, but the greater number are similar, though in many of these, the nature of the animal may be somewhat different. Tigers, for instance, are in form like those on your wilds, but are not without generosity. Thus, they seldom attack each other except when the females are young, and after a fight, when one of the males has prostrated the other, the victor will lick the wounds of the vanquished in order to heal them. After this the two will be friendly, the vanquished tiger resigning his pretensions without further struggle.

I will relate to you a "Tiger" incident that occurred in our world, a long distance from Montalluyah.

THE TIGER AND THE CHILD.

Our hurricanes disturb wild animals, numbers of which approach the outskirts of the towns bordering on the prairies. People are on the watch, for sometimes they have entered the habitations.

A curious incident occurred on the confines of one of these towns. A mother had gone into the next house to fetch something required for her household use, leaving her young child, about three years old, playing on the ground. The door of her cottage was open, and she little knew that a large tiger was prowling near. The watchers had gone into the field, and the tiger approached the outskirts of the town, close to the hut where the child was playing, entered through the door, and found the little innocent, who, not knowing what danger was, allowed the animal to approach, and even patted him. The tiger crouched down close to the pillow on which the child had been playing.

The mother returned, and, to her horror and bewilderment, saw this huge tiger, with her darling child fast asleep, its head resting on the belly of the animal. She was for a moment paralysed with fear, and was unable to utter a single cry, but, recovering herself, she ran and gave the alarm. No time was lost in communicating with the officials, and very soon hunters and men skilled in pursuit of wild animals were on the spot; but the comparatively short time that elapsed was to the poor mother, who saw the child of her affection, beaming with health, in the power of the monster.

The huntsmen viewed the great beast, but they were at a loss what to do; for the chief said, that if they shot him, even in the most vital part, he would most likely, in his death-struggle, kill the child. After some consultation, they procured a hook, fixed it firmly at the end of a long rod, and then took hold of the child's dress and pulled it by the hook gently towards them. The movement roused the tiger, who caught the rod in his mouth and broke it, as though desirous to retain the child. The child woke and cried, but the tiger licked him, and whilst so engaged the men managed to get partly over him the iron network (used, as I have described, to secure wild beasts), so as to disable him, and to get the child away. When the beast saw the child removed he uttered a piercing howl, such as had never been heard before, and, strange to say, the child was also grieved to leave the tiger, or, to use his own words, the "large beautiful cat."

The animal having been killed, the skin was dressed and presented to the mother of the child.

THE UNICORN.

There exists an animal in my planet like your heraldic unicorn. He is very graceful, but very ferocious, not heeding kindness, whilst harshness increases his ferocity.

One mode of taming him for a time was discovered—namely, to feed him with oranges! I saw one who, a few minutes previously had been dashing about with restless fury, and who, after eating some oranges, lay down quietly, and even licked the hand of the keeper who had fed him with the fruit.

Particular hurricanes bring swarms of insects, which never come near the unicorn; they seem to have a great antipathy to him.



XLVII.

THE SUN.

THE ELECTRIC STAR-INSTRUMENT.

"The infinity of the universe of worlds is but a faint reflection of the Infinite Power that created them. By His will they were called into existence. By His will they, and all that they contain, could be swept away in an instant!"

"Not even in thought can ye grasp the boundlessness of His works. How then can ye measure the infinite might of their Creator?"

My palace stands on the highest ground in the uppermost city in Montalluyah. It is of circular shape, and has twenty floors and terraces raised one above the other, the circumference of each gradually diminishing from the lowest to the highest. There are no stairs, in your sense of the word, but we are raised from one story to the other with ease by electric power. Besides the internal communication, there is another circular tower of considerably smaller dimensions contiguous to the palace, with each floor of which it communicates by a species of temporary bridge, so that persons can be moved at once to the floor they desire to reach, without the necessity of entering the palace by a lower floor. This communication can be suspended instantaneously by stopping the electric generating power which acts from within the palace, and communicates subterraneously with the "Lift" Tower.

On the highest terrace of the palace, and dominating every part of the upper cities, and many of the other cities of Montalluyah, is erected my Observatory, whence I could observe the various worlds suspended in space.

We had for a long time possessed instruments through which we could see many of the most distant stars, but with none of these was electric power combined, and their scope was not sufficient to solve certain problems of great interest.

Electricity, chemistry, the knowledge of sun electricity and of the sciences generally, had, under my system, made such marvellous strides as to convince me that an instrument might be made not only to see the stars more plainly, but to view, in some cases, their interior.

As was my wont on such occasions, I assembled together all the great electricians, scientific sun-attractors, mathematicians, oculists, opticians, and the heads of science generally; and, after many years, my own particular Star Instrument was constructed.

Although this instrument is circular, and has numerous glasses, it differs materially from your telescopes. Electrical combinations play an important part in its operations, and for the minute examination of different worlds, a different diffusion of electricities is necessary. The variation is regulated not by the distance, but by the difference in the attracting power of the star, and often, through the peculiar nature of its electricity, greater power is required to view minutely a planet much nearer to Montalluyah than is needed for one more distant.

The secrets revealed to me were so great, that when I first looked through the instrument in all its power I fainted.

With the aid of the Star Instrument I discovered the constitution of the sun, and of many of the stars and their inhabitants. Numbers of the stars have atmospheres different from that of the earth and Montalluyah. Many are inhabited by beings, of whom some partake of our nature; some are of a nature and consistency entirely different to ours; some can only give effect to their will through a material medium; some possess creative powers, and can, by the sole exercise of will, invent the most lovely forms of beauty, and transmit themselves to immeasurable distances with the rapidity of thought.

The superiority of these in power and intelligence over man in his present state is far greater than is the superiority of man over the insect, which can as little understand the human soul as man with unaided powers can comprehend the Beings of whom I have spoken.

My Star Instrument, however, can only bring to light those Beings who, to a certain extent at least, possess a material form, though of a consistency as subtle as electricity. But the instrument does not possess the power of rendering visible those Superior Beings, whom no man in his ordinary state is permitted to see through a material medium. He only can see them even in visions who is blessed with a superior order of light—light in power and beauty far excelling the concentrated light known to us—a light like that which was sometimes vouchsafed to your Holy Prophets! And unless a person be inspired with a portion at least of that immortal light, the brightness, power, and glory of these orders of Beings, or their ways, can neither be seen, understood, nor even imagined.

The discoveries made through the Star Instrument, however, are too numerous to relate at present. I must limit myself now to little more than a few particulars relating to the sun.

THE SUN-OCEAN AND MOUNTAINS.

The Sun is a mass consisting of an immense ocean, surrounded by burning mountains of fire so huge that it would be difficult to speak of their extent, each mountain seeming to be a world in immensity!

I could perceive some portion of the mountains at intervals disengaged from the fire. The rocks seen between the flames are, with, their varied colours, magnificent beyond anything that your language can convey; though I have seen similar colours, but of far less intensity, in some of our gorgeous sunsets.

CONTINENTS.

In the midst of the Sun-Ocean there is a very large continent, besides many of smaller size, which, relatively to the larger, might be called islands. These continents are separated by seas from the large continent and from each other, and are all thickly populated by beings which, though human, are somewhat differently formed from ordinary man.

The continents, though immense, are, even in their aggregate mass, small in comparison with the hugeness of the Sun-Ocean. The nearest is at an immeasurable distance from the mountains; and the ocean is only navigable at certain distances from the outer continents.

HURRICANES.

From a circle surrounding, but at an immense distance from the most extreme of the continents, this great Sun-Ocean throws off currents of wind, terrific in their fury, in the direction of the burning mountains. Your tempest would give but a puny idea of the force of these winds, which indeed exceeds anything known even in my planet, where the hurricanes are terrific.

The winds are attracted, and their fury is increased, by the extreme heat of the burning mountains.

The ocean struggles, as it were, to quench the fire, while the fire contends with the ocean, which raises its head, as though threatening to cover the topmost mountains. However, the wind, blowing with redoubled force, supports the energy of the fire. The power and brilliancy of the burning mass are intensified by reflection in the huge Sun-Ocean.

There are reparatory powers always at work to supply the waste caused by never-ceasing combustion. There is, besides, a constant interchange of electricities between the ocean and the burning mountains, the upheaving from the ocean bed having probably some connection with the reparatory powers.

It has been ascertained, I should say, in Montalluyah that fire is produced by the union of certain electricities with a peculiar gas; and it is believed that these electricities are constantly attracted to the mountains, where they maintain combustion, and that when their nature is changed by the process, they attract other electricities with which they combine, and the compound electricity assists in replenishing the material that attracts the necessary elementary forces to support combustion.

The effect of the burning mountains on the continents in the Sun-Ocean is mitigated by the direction of the winds and other causes, but the heat is nevertheless fiery in its intensity.

Every planet has an electricity of its own, more or less sympathetic to the sun, and, consequently, more or less powerful in attracting his rays. Many planets at a greater distance feel his heat more than others less remote. There are stars where the sun is not even seen, but where, through the effect of his influence, there is perpetual spring.

In my planet the sun, even in material form, presents to the naked eye an aspect different to yours. It not only seems to be much larger, but one of its extremities has a globular form, whilst the rest presents the appearance of a large mass ending in three long peaks or indentations. Although so different in appearance, it is the same sun that illumines your earth.

Most of the stars are wholly or partly girded and intersected by seas, which assist in giving them, their luminous and twinkling appearance. To us your earth has the appearance to the-naked eye of two separate brilliant stars.

COMETS.

Comets are stars where large bodies of the waters have overflowed, rarefied and distended by electrical attractions and repulsions. The overflowing of the waters often makes the star visible when it would otherwise pass unperceived.

Some of these overflowings take place periodically; others are the result of what may be called accident. It is probable that your world, at the Flood, appeared like a comet to the inhabitants of other terrestrial stars where, till then, it had been invisible.

There are huge masses of water in space corresponding to the expression of "the waters which are above the firmament," and many of these masses of water appear like stars when seen from our planet.

* * * * *

The great Star Instrument had brought to my view the palpable features of the Sun and the other planets. By means, not unlike those to which you are indebted for these communications, I acquired the knowledge of other facts which from their nature are not within the immediate scope of the instrument, but which were often confirmed by and served to explain many facts which the instrument itself had revealed. I used for good ends the knowledge thus vouchsafed me, and was from time to time rewarded with further revelations rich with hints which greatly aided me in perfecting the measures I had initiated for the REGENERATION of the WORLD entrusted to my charge.

THE END.

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LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET, AND CHARING CROSS.