"Your last thought is right," answered our friend. "Nature has certainly assisted us. While the crust of the planet was thin we know the central fires heaved and shook the ground and burst forth from the mountains, causing great destruction and keeping the world in fear. We do not know how thick the crust of the planet now is, but nothing has been felt of those inner convulsions for many ages. One of our feats of engineering has been to see how far we could penetrate into the surface of the globe. A well of vast size has been dug, the temperature being carefully noted and observations made of the many different substances passed through—water, coal, gas, oil, and all kinds of mineral deposits. The work has progressed from one generation to another, and no one can tell when it will be called finished, as it is determined to dig toward the center of the planet as fast as our ever-increasing skill will permit."

"Did you find out how thick the crust is?" I asked.

"No," he answered, "we are not much nearer the solution of that question than before, but we have made valuable discoveries as to what the crust is composed of. The temperature has gradually, though slowly, increased, and we believe the time will come when the work will have to be abandoned on account of the heat. We have gone far enough to know that when the fuel on the surface of our globe is all used up we shall only have to tap the center to get all the heat we want." "What a capital idea that will be," I interrupted, "to throw at some of our pessimistic friends on the earth, Doctor."

"We see now, Thorwald," my companion said, "that your planet is too old to give you any more trouble from earthquake and volcano, but how about other natural phenomena, the tempest and cyclone for example?"

"Well," replied Thorwald, "we have a theory that time, the great healer, has cured these evils also. Let me ask, Doctor, if the earth ever receives any accretions of matter from outside its own atmosphere?"

"Yes, we have the fall of meteorites, foreign substances which we believe the earth encounters in its path around the sun."

"I supposed such must be the case," Thorwald continued. "And now, when you consider the great age of Mars, perhaps you will not be surprised to learn that this new matter, coming to us from the outside, was sufficient to increase the weight of our globe and gradually decrease the rate of speed at which we were traveling through space."

"I am surprised, though," said the doctor, "because the accumulation of meteorolites on the surface of the earth is so exceedingly slow that it would take millions of years, at the present rate, to increase its diameter one inch."

"But perhaps they came much faster in past ages. Let me ask you, Doctor, if it is not a fact that the rate of revolution of Mars around the sun is slower than the earth's? I suppose you are far enough advanced in astronomical science to answer that."

"Yes," replied the doctor, "you are correct. I believe the earth speeds along at nineteen miles a second, while Mars travels only sixteen miles in the same time."

"We know by our computations that our speed is much less than it once was, and our theory is that this has in some way hushed those terrible storms and winds which we know were formerly so frequent."

Here the doctor thought he saw a chance to make a point, and spoke as follows:

"If the meteorites come in quantities sufficient to have caused such changes, it seems to me their fall must be as great a menace to your peace as the evils they have cured. They do not strike the earth in large numbers, but still we have a record of a shower of meteoric stones which devastated a whole village. I suppose all parts of your globe are by this time well populated, and how can you be entirely free from trouble when you are living in constant danger of the downfall of these great masses of rock?"

"But we don't have meteorites now," replied Thorwald.

"Oh, you don't?"

"No, they ceased falling long ago. Mars is going slow enough for the present."

"Very kind of them, I am sure, to stop when you didn't need them any longer," said the doctor; "and I suppose you have some plausible reason to give for their disappearance."

"Yes, we believe that the interplanetary space was well filled with these small bodies, circling around the sun, and when their multitudinous and eccentric orbits intercepted the orbits of the planets, they came within the attraction of these larger masses. Mars has merely, in the course of time, cleared for itself a broad path in its yearly journey and is now encountering no more straggling fragments."

"There, Doctor," said I, "you are well answered. And now, Thorwald, tell us how you have escaped other evils, famine and fire for instance."

"Fire," continued our friend, "was one of the first foes subdued. We quite early learned to make our habitations and everything about us of fireproof materials, and, if I mistake not, you on the earth will not long endure an enemy which can be so easily put down. You will find all materials can be so treated with chemicals as to be absolutely safe from the flames. We have fire only when and where we desire it.

"When you speak of famines you touch a more difficult subject, but here, too, time and skill have wrought wonderful changes. In our histories we read of the time when the weather was chiefly noted for its fickleness, and when some parts of our globe were mere desert wastes, where rain was unknown and no life could exist. And in the inhabited portions one section would often be deluged with too much rain while another would have none, both conditions leading to a failure in agriculture and much consequent suffering. A long time was spent in gathering statistics, which finally proved that if the rainfall were distributed there would be just about enough to water sufficiently the whole surface of the globe. Nature provided rain enough, but it did not always fall where and when it was most needed. It seemed to be left with us to find a remedy for this apparent evil. When I say 'us' in this way I mean our race as a whole, for most of these changes took place many ages ago.

"Our philosophers had seen so many difficulties removed and improvements made in things supposed to be fixed that they began, once upon a time, to assert that rain and snow and the weather in general ought to be subject to our will. They said that in the advanced state of civilization toward which we were progressing it would seem to be an anomalous thing that we should continue to be subjected to the annoyances of so changeable a tyrant as the weather. We seemed destined to gain control of so many of the forces of nature that our future mastery in this department looked to them reasonable. For a long time these views appeared fanciful to the many, but this did not deter a few enthusiasts from study and experiment. As knowledge and skill increased we began, little by little, to gain control of the elements; but do not imagine it was anything less than a slow and laborious work.

"First, as we learned something of the laws which control the precipitation of the moisture suspended in the atmosphere, we discovered a way to produce rain by mechanical means. As this discovery was gradually developed we found we had really solved the problem. For, as there was only a certain amount of moisture taken up into the air, the quantity of rain could not be increased nor diminished, and so when we made it rain in one place it was always at the expense of the rainfall somewhere else.

"Since those early days vast improvement has been made, until now these laws, once so mysterious and so perplexing, are obedient to our service. The whole face of our planet has been reclaimed, and drouth and famine on the one hand and floods on the other are entirely unknown. Each section of country is given rain or snow or sunshine just as it needs it, and there is no uncertainty in the matter."

When Thorwald had reached this point my curiosity prompted me to ask him to tell us in a few words how they could make it rain when they pleased, and he answered that he would be glad to give us details of all these matters if we insisted on it, but he thought it would be better for him to present a general view of the state of their society, leaving it for us to see with our own eyes how things were done, after we had reached our destination.

I readily acquiesced, with an apology for my interruption, and Thorwald resumed:

"The doctor spoke of accidents, sickness, and severe toil as among the sources of your troubles. With us, at the present day, all natural laws are so well understood and so faithfully obeyed that there are no accidents. Machinery and appliances of all kinds are perfect; nothing is left to chance, but everything is governed by law. And as we follow that law in every instance nothing can ever happen, in the old sense of that word. To take a homely example, you have of course learned that it is not well to put your hand into the fire, and so, though you use a good deal of fire you keep your hands out of it. You know what the law is, and you do not tempt it. By our long experience we have learned the operation of all laws, and in every position in life we simply avoid putting our hand into the fire. To be sure, we have been assisted in this by superior skill and by our general steadiness and ripeness of character. If I read history aright accidents were caused by ignorance or neglect of law, and I am sure the people of the earth, when they begin to realize fully how unnecessary they are, will soon outgrow them.

"As for sickness, you cannot understand how strange the word sounds to me. Just think for a moment how useless, how out of place, such a thing as sickness is. Like the subject just spoken of, it comes from disobedience to law, and although I know we were a long time in ridding ourselves of it, it seems to me now that it must be one of the easiest of your troubles to remove. With us the science of medicine became so perfect that it accomplished a great deal of the reform, but more was done by each individual acquiring full knowledge of himself and acting up to that knowledge. In learning to love our neighbors we did not forget to foster a proper love for ourselves. In fact, our creed teaches that self-love is one of our most important duties. When one is instructed to love his neighbor as himself it is presupposed that his affection for himself is of that high quality that will always lead him to do the very best he can for every part of his being. So, as our development continued, we came in time to love ourselves too well to despise or abuse or neglect the bodies we lived in. We studied how best to nurture and care for those bodies, and when that lesson was thoroughly learned we found that sickness and pain were gone, and with them, also, all fear of death. For now we die when our days are fully ended. The span of our life has been doubled since we began to know and care for ourselves, and, at the close, death is anticipated and recognized as a friend."



CHAPTER VII.

RAPID TRANSIT ON MARS.

Here Thorwald paused and said he should be obliged to leave us a short time to attend to some duty in the management of the vessel. When he returned I remarked that neither he nor his companions seemed to have to work very hard.

"That," he answered, "is just the thought I want to speak of next, as the doctor has said many earthly troubles arise from severe labor. Here there is no hard work for us. It is all done by some kind of mechanism. Look at the handling of this ship, in which, as you say, no one is burdened. The hard and disagreeable parts of the work are taken out of our hands and are put into the hand of machinery, which in its perfection is almost intelligent. It is so in all departments of work. Inventions looking toward the saving of labor have closely followed each other for so many years that their object is about accomplished, and all the pain and sorrow accompanying daily toil are things of the dead past. Even our animals are relieved from distressing labor and share with us the blessings of an advanced civilization, every heavy weight being raised and every burdensome load being drawn by an arm of steel or aluminum, which neither tires nor feels. We do not need to pity a machine. Why should flesh and blood, whether of dumb beasts or of more intelligent beings, suffer the agony of labor when the work can be better done by mechanical means?

"While speaking of the lower animals I may as well say here that we have no wild beasts. All have been tamed; not merely brought into subjection, but made the friends and companions in a sense of our higher race. Every animal, large and small, has lost its power and will to harm us. The wasp has lost its sting, the serpent its poison, and the tiger its desire to tear. And not only is their enmity to us all gone, but they no longer prey upon each other. Perfect peace reigns in this realm also."

"What has brought about this highly interesting condition?" I asked. "Was there a natural tendency toward perfection on the part of the beasts?"

"No," replied Thorwald, "I think not. The change has been accomplished by us. Nothing that has life could help being uplifted by contact with our ever-expanding civilization. We believe the chief factor in working this great betterment in the animal creation has been our success in entirely eliminating flesh as an article of food. We early came to see it was not necessary for ourselves and that without it we were much better prepared to assume the higher duties belonging to our advanced life. We then began to experiment with the animals nearest us. It was a slow and discouraging task at first, but finally we obtained results that gave us hope of success. We found in the course of many years that the digestive organs of the animals on which we were experimenting were gradually becoming accustomed to a vegetable diet. We continued the work, extending it to one class of animals after another, until in time all carnivorous instincts disappeared."

This interested the doctor exceedingly, and he remarked that he should think there would have been some kinds of animals that would resist all efforts to work such a change in them; but Thorwald answered:

"I have never read of such cases, but if there were any the species must have become extinct, for now, in all this world, no conscious life is taken to support another life. No blood is let for our refreshment and no minutest creature is pursued and slain to appease the appetite of its stronger neighbor."

"Does this condition extend even to the fish of the sea?" inquired the doctor.

"Even to the fish of the sea," answered the Martian.

"Now that you discover," he continued, "what improvement has been wrought in the lower animals, you can understand that their comfort is an object of our solicitude, and that we take great pleasure in knowing that they are relieved from all hard labor."

"But you haven't told us," said I, "what is the source of the power that does all your work."

"Let me ask," replied Thorwald, "if you have begun to use electricity yet?"

"Yes," I answered, "we are trying to harness it, but it is still far from obedient to us."

"I perceive," said our friend, "from this and other things you have told me, that your development is going on in about the order which has prevailed on Mars. Do not be discouraged in your efforts to bring that mysterious and wonderful agent, electricity, into complete subjection. You will find it your most useful servant, and in connection with aluminum it will enable you to solve numerous problems and remove many difficulties from your path of progress.

"Here we have made full use of both of these valuable helps. Electricity enters into every department of life.

"It runs our errands, takes us from place to place, builds our houses, cooks our food, and even is applied to the growth of our food when we are in haste for any article. Its laws are so well understood that there is no fear of personal injury from its use, and I will show you how familiar an aid it is to us. Here," he continued, taking from his pocket a brightly polished case of metal, "is a compact storage battery, containing, not electricity itself, of course, but elements so prepared that a simple touch will start into motion a powerful current, able to perform almost any task I may ask of it. This case, you see, is so small and light that it is no burden, and yet it contains power enough to serve me for many days. Of course, all our work of a fixed character has appliances with the power permanently attached, and these portable reservoirs are carried about with us only for detached and unexpected tasks."

To my experienced eye the doctor's face looked a little skeptical at this last remark, and he said:

"But how can the power be applied in these emergencies? Suppose, for example, it were necessary for you to go from here to the other end of this vessel in half a second, how would the electricity in your box help you do it?"

"If I really thought, Doctor, you wanted to be rid of me I would be tempted to try it; but, as I told your companion just now, you had better learn all you can of our history before you begin to see what we can do.

"I haven't told you half of the wonders performed by this marvelous power. It has long been our chief reliance for rapid traveling. You find us in this ship; but, although navigation is a perfected science, this mode of traveling is tedious, and ships are used only for pleasure and such out- of-the-way trips as this. Journeys from place to place over established routes are made in large tubes, in which the cars are propelled by electricity. These tubes run both on land and water, being suspended in the latter a little way below the surface. Both tubes and cars are air- tight, and the adjustment is so perfect that the cars slide along with the greatest ease. Riding in an air-tight chamber would not be pleasant if much time were to be occupied in that way, but the cars are propelled so swiftly that the time from one station to another is hardly appreciable. At every stop the cars are opened and apparatus set in motion which changes the air completely almost in a moment. Where the tubes run under water shafts for air are put in at the stations. There is always a double line, one tube for each direction. No chance is left for accidents.

"Of course we navigate the air, swiftly and safely. If not in too much haste we always take the aerial passage, and often on a pleasant day the sky over a great city will be as full of air ships, or balloons as we still sometimes call them, as its harbor is of pleasure boats. In this department inventors had a fruitful field, the use of aluminum offering abundant opportunity for the greatest variety of devices, and the development of the flying machine was one of the most interesting features in the march toward our present high civilization. Perhaps the presence of so many electrical machines in the air and the utilization of so much electricity on land and water have, after thousands of years, done much toward freeing us from the thunderstorm, with its deadly lightning. We have fairly robbed the clouds of their electricity and taught it to do our work.

"Swift and economical as our modern electric cars are, there is one mode of traveling sometimes adopted which is more rapid still, and the cheapest and in some respects the easiest way of getting over the surface of the globe ever dreamed of. It was discovered by accident, just before accidents entirely ceased, in the following manner:

"A couple of scientific enthusiasts, of the kind we call cranks—I don't know what you call them on the earth—conceived the idea that they could find something better to take the place of the highly purified and buoyant gases which we used in our flying machines. They observed, in the lofty flights they were accustomed to make into the air, that as they ascended the atmosphere grew lighter, and this led them to think they might go far into the upper regions, collect large quantities of rarefied air, bring it down, and use it for floating flying machines. Of course, they understood that any vessel this thin air was put into must be strong enough to prevent being collapsed by the weight of the denser atmosphere on the surface. But they thought small spherical vessels of very thin metal could be made that would withstand this pressure and still hold enough to float and carry some weight besides. They had a large number of these hollow balls made and started on a trial trip, expecting to bring down only a small quantity each time. But, in their endeavor to obtain the very best quality of lifting material possible, they went much higher than they intended, although this did not cause them as much inconvenience as might have been expected, since they were provided with the latest improved breathing apparatus. The result of their adventure, however, was a discovery of such magnitude that it drove from their minds all thought of their real errand and we never again heard of that project. After remaining at an extreme height a few hours, the surface of the planet being hidden by clouds, they began to descend, and when they were near enough to see the features of the country below them, everything looked strange and unknown. They could not account for this, but continued their fall, fully persuaded that it must be their own world and not some other which they were approaching. But even if they had not been correct in that, they could hardly have been more surprised than they were to find, on landing, that they were almost exactly on the opposite side of the globe from the place where they made the ascent. They seemed to have traveled half way around the world in that incredibly short space of time, when in reality they had remained stationary and the world had traveled around them. The fact is, they had risen above all the denser portion of the planet's atmosphere, and had reached a stratum of extremely rarefied air, which, it seems, does not accompany the globe in its revolution. Of course, the facts were at once heralded to the four quarters of the world, and the two aerial travelers found themselves famous. But they did not wish to let such an astounding discovery rest upon the results of a single experiment, and so they proved themselves worthy of their new fame by going home the way they came. That is, they mounted their flying machine, rose again to the same lofty height, remained there about the same time as before, descended, and were near their home."

Here the doctor asked:

"And has this singular mode of traveling become popular, Thorwald?"

"For long distances east and west it is often resorted to. But I presume you are asking yourself whether you could introduce it on the earth. When you return and begin to think it over you will probably see so many practical difficulties in the way that you will not attempt it. You must have patience. All these things will come to your race in time."



CHAPTER VIII.

THORWALD PUZZLED.

"I fear," continued Thorwald, "that I am wearying you with this long talk."

We assured him we were enjoying it too much to think of being tired, and hoped he would not stop. But he said he had some duties to attend to, and would take us to his room and leave us by ourselves for a while.

As soon as we were alone the doctor looked at me with a smile and said:

"Why did you act so queerly when I spoke of Mona?"

"Why did you speak so?" I asked in reply. "And how could you tell Thorwald we found one inhabitant on the moon?"

"Did you want to have me tell him a falsehood?"

"Of course not. I tried to catch your eye and keep you from saying any thing on the subject till we could consult in regard to it. If we are going to color our narrative in order to make it more marvelous we must at least make our stories agree."

"My friend," said the doctor, "I am now confirmed in my suspicion that your brain was affected by your fall from the moon."

I saw by this time that I need not hesitate further to tell the doctor the truth. I disliked the task, but I saw it would not be safe to leave him any longer in ignorance of his condition. There as no telling what other preposterous tales he might invent. So I said to him gently:

"Doctor, your last remark makes it easier for me to tell you that the first words you said to me on this vessel showed me that you were not right. I kept it from our new friends here, and I thought I had better tell you how you are, so you can be a little cautious. You talk all right on most subjects, but you will do well to avoid the moon as a topic of conversation. If the others ask any more questions about the moon, you can just let me answer them."

I said all this seriously enough, but the doctor laughed boisterously as he answered:

"Well, if this isn't a joke. You think I am crazy, and I know you are crazy, and I can prove it. I will just ask you one question, which please answer truthfully. Don't you remember Mona?"

"Oh, there is Mona again! Don't you see that only proves your own madness? No, I don't remember Mona, and you don't either."

"I must say," returned the doctor, "I never expected to see you get over your infatuation so quickly."

"What direction did my infatuation, as you call it, take?"

"Marriage, I should say."

"Now you interest me," I returned, "and you must tell me more. Is this Mona of yours the sole resident of the moon, of whom you spoke to Thorwald?"

"Certainly she is, but you surely must be out of your head to call her my Mona—I want no stronger proof."

"How so?" I asked.

"Why, because but yesterday you scarce wanted to have me speak to her. You tried to keep your jealousy from me, but there was not room enough in all the moon to hide it."

"This is very laughable," I exclaimed.

"You did not think so then. But let me try to bring it all back to you by another question. Don't you remember her voice?"

"Most truly I do not. Why, what was the matter with her voice? Was it loud and harsh, or was it squeaky? I cannot imagine anything very pleasant in the way of a voice in such a wild and withered home as the moon would make."

"True," answered the doctor, "as to the outside, but you forget our visit to the interior."

"There it is again," said I. "Now, Doctor, the sooner you get rid of these strange notions the better So tell me your recollections of our stay in the moon, and I will let you know where you are wrong."

"Very well. You remember, of course, when we found ourselves rushing away from the earth so swiftly."

"Yes, and then we remained shut up in the car day after day, more dead than alive I think, until, fortunately, we were spilled out upon this more favored globe."

"You seem to be sincere," said the doctor, "but if you are, then you forget the most interesting part of our experience. Just as we were about to be overwhelmed with our troubles we heard exquisite music, which we soon found proceeded from a lovely maiden. You fell desperately in love with her at first sight and never recovered till you were plunged in the ocean of Mars. You insisted on following her nod, and she led us at once through a narrow path down into the center of the moon. Here, in her quiet home, we taught her to sing in our language—her only speech was song—and the first words she used were to say she loved me. She did not understand what the words meant, of course, but you looked as if you wished I had been blown away before Mona had discovered us. After that I helped you in your wooing all I could, but although your passion increased every day your suit did not seem to prosper. One day I expressed the wish that I had some of the things we had left in the car, whereupon she led us out to the surface again, where we arrived just in time to be thrown upon this planet. Here we are, you and I, all safe, but where is poor Mona?"

"I am sure it would take a wise man to answer that question," I replied. "And now let me show you, Doctor, how wrong you are. If you will only try to exercise a little of that good judgment for which you are noted, you will be convinced that this is only a pretty little fairy tale which has somehow taken possession of a corner of your brain. Now that the fairy is gone you must try to forget the rest. Just think how unlikely the whole story is. Think of a delicate girl living in such surroundings as we found there; and then, how could we exist down in the center of the moon?"

"Why, don't you remember Mona told us the water and atmosphere had all run down there, making it the only habitable part of the decaying globe?"

"Oh, that's only one of your scientific notions, probably as true as the others that we have disproved. Too much science has turned your head, and I will prove it to you again by showing you how impossible is the part which I play in your romance. I will tell you now, what you doubtless do not know, that I am engaged to be married to the best woman in all the earth, excepting your own good wife, of course."

"Is that a fact?" asked the doctor. "And do you love her?"

"To be sure I do. I love her very dearly, and if I ever see her again I shall tell her so in a manner to make her understand it."

"Why, doesn't she understand it now?"

"Yes, I think so, but she thought I didn't show heart enough in my wooing."

"Well, if she could see you with Mona she would learn that you have plenty of heart when the right one appears to make it spring into life."

"You speak as if you thought I did not love Margaret. You do not know her. Why, I wouldn't once look at another woman anywhere, not even in Mars, and most certainly not in that puckered-up old world that we have just left, happily for us."

"Do you know what I think about you?" asked the doctor.

"No."

"I think you have an exceedingly poor memory. First, you forgot Margaret as soon as the voice of that fair singer fell on your ear, and now you have forgotten the singer again the moment we have lost her. I await with much interest your first introduction to a daughter of Mars."

"You will be disappointed," said I, "if you think I shall be more than civil to her."

"If she be handsome and can turn a tune moderately well, I shall be willing to wager a fair young planet against the moon that you will propose to her in a week."

"I have done nothing to give you so poor an opinion of me. It is only your own diseased imagination, and I do not seem to be curing it very fast. I suppose, because your mind is naturally so strong, it is the more difficult to destroy such an hallucination as has taken possession of you."

"I would give it up," said the doctor. "The story is all true, and not a work of my imagination. Isn't it more reasonable to believe that you could forget the circumstances I have related than that I could invent such a tale?"

"Oh, I never could forget it if I had been false to Margaret. You do not know me. If your vagaries had taken any other direction I might possibly be brought to think you were right."

By this time we both began to realize that the conversation was not proving a great success in the way we had hoped, and so, after some pleasant words and a hearty laugh over the situation, we found our way to the deck again. Here there were various things to attract our attention, different members of the crew being eager to show us about. The doctor asked some question in regard to the system of steering the vessel, and when one of the men had taken him back toward the stern to explain the point, I found Thorwald and quietly explained to him the mental condition of my companion.

"The doctor is all right," I said, "on every subject but one. His head must have been injured a little in his fall, and he imagines and asserts with positiveness that we found a young woman in the moon, the last of her race—a ridiculous idea, is it not?"

"And did you find any inhabitants at all?" asked Thorwald.

"Certainly not. No one could live in such a place. It is indeed marvelous how we existed long enough to get here. The doctor calls this creature of his brain Mona, says she was a great beauty, and plainly intimates that I was rather too attentive to her. You will see what a convincing proof this is of his unsound condition when I tell you I am engaged to the best woman on the earth, and so of course could not show any marked preference for another. I have told you about the doctor so that you may pass over unnoticed any allusion he makes to these subjects."

Thorwald thanked me and said he would be careful not to embarrass us in the matter. And so I flattered myself that in the future Thorwald and I would sympathize with each other in commiserating the doctor. But I afterward learned that the doctor, about this time, had also sought an interview with Thorwald and had confided the following secret to him:

"My friend," said he, "is a fine young fellow, but his head must have been injured in his fall. He has entirely forgotten the best of our experience in the moon. Queer, too, for he fell in love with the only and last inhabitant of that globe, a beautiful, sweet-voiced maiden named Mona, who never talked but she sang."

Thorwald then made the doctor tell him the whole story, and at the close he promised he would not pay much attention to anything I might say on the subject in future conversation.

So it was quite a puzzle to Thorwald to tell which of his visitors from the earth was of unsettled mind and which in his normal condition. He decided to hold the question open and wait for further evidence.



CHAPTER IX.

THORWALD AS A PROPHET.

As maybe supposed, the doctor and I were anxious to hear more about Mars, and it was not long before we were all seated together again, when Thorwald resumed his instructive talk.

"What further can I tell you of our condition and achievements? Every science has made mighty progress in bestowing its own benefit upon us. New arts have been discovered in the course of our development, about which you would understand nothing. The aim and result of all science have been to add to our comfort and happiness—our true happiness, which consists in improvement and the constant uplifting of character. The evils that once vexed our world, both those occasioned by natural phenomena and those brought about by our own ignorance and sin, have, as you have heard, almost completely disappeared. Even mental troubles are gone, and no corroding care destroys our peace, for there is nothing for us to dread; no dark future, filled with unknown evils, awaits our unwilling feet, and no superstitious or unnatural fear disturbs the peaceful quiet of our sleep."

"And are we to understand, Thorwald," I asked, "that you believe all this rest from trouble and wrongdoing is coming to the earth, too?"

"Before replying directly to your question," answered Thorwald, "let me ask you if there is any tendency in that direction. Look back to the earliest days of your history and compare the state of things then existing with that of your own times. Has your world made any progress? Is there any less violence? Are men learning to live without fighting? Are the dark corners of the earth coming to the light?"

"In these and many other directions," I answered, "I think we can see improvement."

"Then," continued Thorwald, "it seems to me you must believe with me that your world will one day come to the condition in which you find us. Have not your holy prophets foretold a time of universal peace both for man and beast, a time when a higher law than selfishness shall govern all hearts and the earth be filled with the spirit of love?"

"They have," I replied, "but most of us are so engrossed in the struggle for existence that we think lightly or not at all of such things. These prophecies have never impressed me as they do now when I see your condition, and reflect that similar words may have been spoken and then fulfilled here."

"Let me assure you," Thorwald made haste to say, "that the earth is still young. I can see by all you say that your age is one of unusual vitality and progress. A firm faith that victory will come and that the golden age is before you will be a great help in your struggle with evil. Lay hold of that faith. It is yours. It needs no prophet to tell you that your race will one day reach our blessed state. First will come the spirit of peace, and as I am sure war must be repugnant to such minds as yours, you will readily learn to put it away from you. Then will begin to cease all bitterness between man and man, and you will be started on the road that leads to brotherly kindness. A world of sorrows will fall away with the passing of individual and national strife, not only the horror of the battlefield and the misery that follows it, but also the more secret and world-wide unhappiness that comes from the petty conflicts over the so-called rights of person and property. Selfishness, that monstrous source of evil, must be dethroned, and then the rights of each will be cared for by all. This will usher in for you a new era.

"And now, when the mighty energy that has been expended in learning and practicing the science of war, the skill that has been given to the art of killing, the treasures of money and blood, the time, the brain and the activities that have been employed in carrying out plans of aggression, large and small, of neighbor against neighbor—when these have all been turned toward the betterment of your condition and the salvation of men from degradation and sin, then will the arts of peace flourish and your day begin. Then will nature herself come to your assistance, molding her laws to your convenience and comfort. It will doubtless be a long time before a man can love and consider his neighbor as himself, and before all of God's creatures on your planet can dwell together in perfect peace, but, believe me, the earth will live to see that time."

"Thorwald," spoke the doctor, "your words are so inspiring that I almost wish my life could have waited some thousands of years for that bright day you so confidently promise for the earth, but I cannot help asking myself if it is altogether a misfortune to live in the midst of the conflict, with something ahead to strive for. Will you pardon my presumption if I ask you practically the same question? You have told us of your wonderful history and that you have now reached a condition of peace and quiet. With no sickness or sorrow in your lives, with no evil passions to rise and throw you, with nothing to fear from without or within, yours must be a blissful condition. But still, is there always content? In our imperfect state we are striving and learning. Our happiness largely consists in the pursuit of happiness. If, some day, we should find all difficulties removed, no obstacles left to contend against, no evil in ourselves or others to overcome, not even our bodily wants to provide for, it seems to me life would lose its zest and become a burden hardly worth the carrying. Can you remove this unhandsome doubt?"

"I will try," answered Thorwald. "I suppose if the people of the earth, with their present capacities and aspirations, should be brought suddenly to such a state of civilization as ours, it would be as you say. As your development continues, your minds and souls will expand and you will be prepared to take up new duties and occupations as they come. I cannot tell you what these are, for at present you would not understand me. You mistake if you think we have ceased to learn. The mind is ever reaching forward to new attainments, and the things which chiefly occupy us now would have been beyond our comprehension in our earlier days. Can you not find an illustration on the earth? Suppose the untutored savage were suddenly required to throw away his spear and arrow and engage in your pursuits, Doctor. Would he be happy? Your mind is full of thoughts that he cannot grasp, your life is made up of experiences and aspirations of which he has no conception. You can see your superiority to the savage. Let me help you to look forward and see your inferiority to the coming man, who, I assure you, will never tire of life while anything that God has made remains to be studied. As the mind expands, new wonders and new beauties in creation will unfold themselves and your race will learn to look back with pity upon your present age, with its mean and trivial occupations."

"But, Thorwald," I asked, "can you not tell us something of these higher pursuits?"

"But very little," he answered. "I might give you one or two hints of some things which I think lie nearest you, if indeed you have not already begun to consider them. I need hardly speak of astronomy, which, from the nature of the case, is the earliest of all sciences wherever there is intelligent life to view the works of creation. You will find great profit in advancing in this study as rapidly as possible. We have not yet ceased to pursue it, and I think it is one branch of knowledge which will never be exhausted, in the present life at least. Our achievements in astronomy have been marvelous.

"Do not neglect to look in the other direction also for evidences of God's power and wisdom. The microscope will almost keep pace with the telescope in revealing the wonders of creation. It will greatly assist you in many of your higher employments.

"One thing that you will doubtless soon undertake is the study of the speech of animals, which will go hand in hand with the development of their intelligence. Both of these will claim much attention, but very inadequate results will be obtained until after you have tamed and domesticated the various species. You will want to discover how far animals can be educated and whether their intelligence can ever be developed into mind. As you progress in this study you will feel the necessity of understanding their conversation and you will learn what you can of their language. These tasks will seem of more importance to you when the lower animals are all reclaimed and become the companions and friends of man. You will try to discover the particular purpose for which each species was created, and you will even be led to inquire, by a long series of experiments, whether they possess the faintest shadow of moral perceptions.

"Then there is the great subject of plant life. Does the sensitiveness of plants ever amount to sensibility or feeling? If so, is it a feeling you are bound to respect? That is, should a wounded and bleeding tree excite in you even the slightest shade of that sympathy you feel with a distressed animal? These are inquiries which you doubtless think of little moment now, but we have spent many years pursuing them.

"These are only a few faint indications of the multitude of questions which lie before you for study. In every investigation which you follow, whether connected with the mysteries of your own complex being or with the unexplored depths of creation around you, a chief source of interest will be the constant discovery of a perfect adaptation in the works of God. Of course you know something of it already, but you will never cease to wonder at the unfolding of this truth, as you come to realize more and more fully that creation is one, and is moved and ruled by one intelligence.

"Oh, do not imagine that in the ages to come there will be nothing to make life interesting. As your civilization advances and you are released gradually from trouble and care, and from those petty affairs which now so occupy you, your minds and souls will grow, and you will see far more ahead of you worth striving for than you now do. Your happiness can still consist largely in the pursuit of happiness."



CHAPTER X

MORE WORLDS THAN TWO.

It was now so late in the day that further conversation was postponed, and after a plain but exceedingly enjoyable supper we were shown to luxurious rooms, where we spent our first night in Mars in great comfort.

In the morning Thorwald told us we would reach our port in a few hours, and so we sat down as early as we could after breakfast for a short talk.

The doctor furnished the text by opening the conversation with this remark:

"It is wonderful to think we should find on this planet a race of people so advanced, when so little thought is given, on the earth, to the idea of life in other worlds."

"What has been the general opinion among you on that subject?" asked Thorwald.

"The subject has not had standing enough to call forth much opinion," the doctor answered. "There is an almost universal indifference in regard to the matter. I think the common notion is that the earth is about all there is in the universe worth considering."

"But what are your own views, Doctor?"

"I have been one of those," he replied, "who believed the notion of life outside the earth to be a beautiful theory without one shred of scientific basis. We knew the earth was inhabited and the moon was not, and there we stopped. We did not know, and thought we never could know, anything that could be called evidence pointing to the existence of life in the other planets or elsewhere, and we held that there was no advantage in speculation. We thought it unwise to spend much time or thought on a subject about which we could know nothing. On coming here and finding you I have learned that Mars is inhabited, but I do not know any more about the other planets or stars."

"Does not the mere knowledge that there are two life-bearing bodies lead you to believe that there are more, among the vast numbers of worlds which you have not visited?"

"I don't see why it should. How can we believe anything without evidence? No one has ever come to us from those distant globes, and they are too far away for us to see what is taking place on their surface."

"It seems strange, Doctor, to hear you reason in that way, but I suppose some of our race were just as narrow, if you will pardon me for using that word, as you are, before our wonderful successes in astronomy. I believe you have not properly considered the subject, for it seems to me you had knowledge enough, before you left the earth, to justify you in holding to a strong probability of life beyond your own globe.

"Let us see what some of that knowledge is. You know, to begin with, that one world is inhabited. Then if you should find other bodies as large as the earth and bearing any resemblance to it, there would be no improbability in the thought that they or some of them were filled with life. The improbability is certainly taken away by the knowledge that one such body, the earth, is inhabited.

"You start, then, without prejudice, on a voyage of discovery, aided by your telescope and your reasoning faculties.

"First you find, within distances that you can easily measure, a small group of dark bodies, which you have called planets, all apparently governed by a common law, in obedience to which they are circling around a large body of quite different character, which gives them light and heat. Of these dark bodies, which shine in the sky only by reflected light, the earth is one, and, you are surprised to find, not the most important one, judging from all you can discover. Some of the others are much larger and are attended by more satellites. In fact, the earth is indistinguishable in this little group. While it is not the largest, neither is it the smallest. It is not the farthest from the sun nor the nearest to it. It is merely one among the number. And how much alike the members of this family are. Your telescopes do not point out any material differences, although each has its individual characteristics. Let us enumerate some of the many points of resemblance. They all turn on themselves as well as revolve around the sun. All see the night follow the day, and in most of them there must occur the regular succession of seasons. To each one the sun is the source of light and heat, many of them have moons, and all can see the stars. Nor does the resemblance stop here. For you have discovered that one has an atmosphere, another is surrounded with clouds, while on the surface of our own globe you see the polar snows increase in winter and melt away in summer. Is it not probable that if you could get nearer to these globes you would find still closer resemblances? And if they are like the earth in so many ways, is it at all unlikely that they may, at some period of their existence, be the abode of intelligent life? For what other purpose were they made, Doctor?"

"They make very pretty objects for us to look at," replied my companion.

"Yes, those that can be seen," said Thorwald; "but is that all? Were those great worlds, some of them hundreds of times larger than your own globe, created merely to add a little variety to your sky, and to give you the pleasant task of watching their movements under the pretty title of morning and evening star?" "Speaking from the knowledge I had when I left the earth," the doctor answered, "I can say I never heard that they were put to any other use. No one ever came down to us from any of them to tell us they were inhabited."

"And do you think," asked Thorwald, "that the myriads of stars were also made simply to delight the eye of man?"

"How do I know that they were not?" the doctor asked in reply.

"Because of the absolute unreasonableness of the thought, if for no other reason," answered Thorwald. "But now let me recall to your mind more of the knowledge possessed by the inhabitants of the earth. I think I know about what that knowledge is, from my acquaintance with the present state of your development. Astronomy has been our master science, and I can remember fairly well the extent of our knowledge when we had reached your stage. If I should fall into the error of attributing to you more than you have already discovered you can easily correct me.

"If, now, you leave the little group of dark bodies which are so like the earth, and go out still further into space, what do you find? At distances so great that only the speed of light can be used as a measuring line, you discover vast numbers of self-luminous bodies, which you call stars. Your natural eye can tell but a small fraction of their number. For example, look at the constellation you have named the Pleiades and you see six or seven stars. View it through a three-inch telescope and you can count perhaps three hundred. Now attach a photographic plate to the telescope, and with an exposure of four hours the light coming from that small patch of sky falls upon the sensitive film with a cumulative effect until you have a picture of more than two thousand three hundred stars."

"Yes," broke in the doctor, "you are gauging correctly the state of our knowledge. Our largest telescopes reveal in the entire sky, it is said, one hundred million stars."

"Then," answered Thorwald, "if the glories of the heavens were made merely to delight the eye of man, why was not the eye created of sufficient power to behold them? As it is, only a small proportion of the stars can be seen without the aid of instruments too costly and too delicate for general use.

"But have you the means of establishing any likeness between the earth and those distant bodies? You have discovered that the law of gravitation is universal and that the motions of the stars resemble those of the solar system. Have you made any discoveries tending to prove the existence of other systems like our own?"

"Yes," replied the doctor, "our recent investigations of the periods of some of the variable stars show irregularities in brightness, period, and proper motion. A close study of these irregularities has convinced some of our astronomers that there are invisible bodies near them, evidently planets circling around a central sun. The theory is that the dark bodies cause slight perturbations in the star, which account for the irregularities in period, motion, etc. So Neptune was discovered by the effect it had upon the observed movements of Uranus. This is the first evidence we have had tending to prove that there are other groups of worlds like ours, and it is considered quite significant."

"I can readily believe it," said Thorwald, "and I know how helpful every bit of evidence is, in your search for knowledge. But if I mistake not you have the aid of another instrument, which is destined to play an important part in your future studies. You get much nearer those distant orbs when a spectroscope is placed at the end of the telescope, and the ray of light coming from sun and star is widened out into a band of color, which tells a marvelous story. That light, that has been for years, and perhaps for centuries, on its way to you, now discloses the very nature of the substances which compose those fiery globes. And what are those substances? It must have been a startling truth to the man who first read from the spectrum of the star he was studying, that it contained matter with which he was familiar, materials of which the earth itself is made. By this science you have learned beyond doubt that many of the commonest elements of the earth's crust exist also in other worlds, and, what is of great significance, that the materials most closely connected with living organisms on the earth, such as hydrogen, sodium, magnesium, and iron, are the very ones which are found most widely diffused among the stars. I think I am not wrong in assuming that you are somewhat acquainted with the spectroscope and have made these discoveries."

"You are quite right," said the doctor. "This branch of scientific investigation has already been carried so far with us, and the results of the experiments are so constant and uniform, that when it is asserted, for example, that such and such a metal is present in a state of vapor in the sun's atmosphere, it is estimated that the chances in favor of the correctness of the assertion are as 300,000,000 to 1."

"You are helping my argument, Doctor," resumed Thorwald. "But now let me call your attention to another field of inquiry, in our search for evidence to establish a likeness between the earth and the other parts of the universe. You told me, a while ago, that you have the fall of meteorites on your globe. Have you considered the striking evidence they bring you? Let us imagine we have a meteoric fragment here. Take it in your hand and think of it a moment. You have few things on your earth as interesting as this piece of metallic stone. What a world of questions it starts! What is its composition? Whence comes it? Once it was in existence, but not here. Where, then, was its home? Out, out in the depths of space, where burning suns roll and comets have their dwelling place. The stars have fallen indeed, and here is one of the pieces. Before it came to us as a messenger from the sky did it have an independent existence, or is it a fragment of a shattered world? How long has it been whirling in its unknown orbit, and what story has it for us from its distant birthplace? If we can discover whence meteorites come, and of what they are composed, I think you will agree with me that they furnish valuable testimony in our inquiry. You have no doubt had many theories as to their origin."

I was just about to make answer to this implied question, when Thorwald rose and eagerly scanned the horizon. After a moment he exclaimed:

"We shall have to break off our conversation for a time, as we are nearing our port. I knew by other means that land must soon appear, and now I can see it."



CHAPTER XI

MARS AS IT IS.

The doctor and I looked in the direction indicated and speedily realized that the superiority of the dwellers on Mars extended to the sense of sight, for we could see nothing. But we were sailing so swiftly that the shore we were approaching was before very long brought within our vision also, and among the alert crew, who were now preparing to bring the vessel into its harbor, there could be none so interested in what was to come as the doctor and myself. We were to see what had been accomplished by a race of whose perfections we had been hearing so much.

As we effected a landing and walked up the streets of the city, we were not nearly so much impressed with the size and beauty of the buildings and the appearance of the people as we were by the spirit of absolute peace and quiet which prevailed. With perfect skill, and without noise or bustle, the ship was brought to its dock and the crew went ashore. The screams and calls, the rattle of vehicles and the babel of sounds we had been accustomed to on such occasions, were all missing. The silence and order were almost oppressive because they were so strange. But there was no lack of activity among the immense creatures who thronged around us. Everyone was busy, knowing apparently just what to do without direction from others, and just the best way to do it. Beings with lungs powerful enough to wake the mountain echoes went about with mild and tuneful voices, and, though each one seemed possessed of a giant's strength, no severe labor was required of any.

The streets and walks were paved with a soft material, yielding slightly to pressure, but so firm and tough that it showed no sign of wear, an ideal pavement, over which the wheels rolled as noiselessly as they would over a velvet carpet. It was, moreover, laid in beautiful patterns of the most varied colors. The vehicles, of which there were many kinds for different uses, were so faultlessly made that they moved with the utmost quiet and apparent ease, the power that propelled them being invisible. There were no tracks or wires, but all were guided in any direction and with any speed at the pleasure of the riders.

Thorwald led me from the vessel, and another stalwart son of Mars took charge of the doctor. After walking a few steps up the street we all stepped into an empty carriage without saying as much as "by your leave," Thorwald touched a button, and we were off.

"This," said Thorwald, "is one of the best illustrations of the manner in which we are applying electricity. You saw them also unloading the heavy freight from the boat by the same power. So all our work is done. No fleshly limb is strained, no conscious life is burdened, by any of the labor of our complex society. This subtle force is so well controlled and its laws are so thoroughly understood that it is equal to every demand."

"I am entranced, Thorwald," said the doctor, "with everything I see. But I would like to ask if you own this comfortable carriage and had it sent to the wharf to meet you."

"I own it," our friend replied, "just as I own the street we are riding over or the house I live in. I own this or any other vehicle whenever I desire to use it. You saw a great number of carriages near the wharf, and there are several over on that corner. Anyone is at perfect liberty to appropriate one to his own use at any time, and when he is through he merely leaves it at a convenient place by the roadside for some one else to take."

"I should think they would be stolen," said I.

Thorwald laughed at my ignorance and answered: "Why, who is there to steal when everybody, either friend or stranger, can use them as often and as long as he likes?"

The talk promised to grow more interesting still, but now our attention was turned to the delightful scene through which we were passing. It will be utterly impossible to describe the beauty of the landscape, where nature and art seemed to be striving to outdo each other. Before reaching land I had imagined that the houses, if they were to be proportioned to the inhabitants, must pierce the sky. But we were surprised to find that they were all comparatively low, of not more than two or three stories. And all, even those near the wharf, were surrounded with ample grounds. Some of the houses were larger than others, some more ornate than their neighbors, and the architecture varied as much as the size and arrangement of the grounds. But all were beautiful beyond description. One thing that appeared very strange to us was that the prevailing color of the vegetation was red, although that shade did not predominate as much as green does on the earth. For instance, after we had admired a stretch of lawn brilliant as a crimson sky, we would come to another which would surprise and please us with a lovely shade of blue. Still another was green, and then one glowed with a variety of colors, whose combination showed a most refined taste. As with the grass, so it was with the foliage of the trees. The richest tints of our autumnal forests were here present in permanence, but with a much greater wealth of coloring. Flowers, too, of every hue and form were to be seen on all sides, and their appearance was so perfectly natural that if they had been set with design then the art itself had concealed the art of their arrangement.

With all this mass of color there were no unpleasant contrasts, no discordant tones. As, amid the bustle of the landing place, our ears had not been shocked with rude noises, so now we received through our eyes only a delightful sense of quiet beauty.

Riding, now slowly and now more rapidly, through such a scene, we could think of nothing better to question our friend about, so the doctor found his voice and said:

"This far surpasses our anticipations, Thorwald, and I am sure this place must be exceptional, even on Mars. I suppose it is a resort where some of your wealthy people have built themselves homes in which to enjoy their leisure months."

"Nothing of the kind," replied Thorwald. "These people live here all the year, they are not wealthy, and there is nothing to distinguish this city above others."

"Why, this seems more like a private park than a city. Where are your crowded streets and houses for the poor?"

"After all I have told you of our high civilization, Doctor, do you not understand that we have long since abolished poverty?"

"Yes," answered the doctor, "I understand that in a general way; but I did not suppose everybody was rich, as it is certain everybody must be to own such palaces as these."

"You are still wrong," said Thorwald. "We have no such distinctions as rich and poor. All our cities are of this character, only there is great variety in the residences and in the way in which the streets and lots are laid out. These places that we are passing are inferior to many, but no houses are built that are at all mean or uncomfortable. Indeed, I think we have to-day passed some of the poorest that I know of. As to the word city, we use it only as a convenient expression. It really means nothing more than a certain locality, for, as I told you at the beginning of our conversation, we have no need of government of any kind. In some sections one city runs into another, so that the whole country is filled with the beauty and delight of the landscape which you see about you."

"But," asked the doctor, "with the population spread out in this marvelous way, is there room for everybody?"

"Oh, yes," answered Thorwald. "All the surface of our planet is brought into use; the waste places are reclaimed, and there is abundant room for all. And now, as this pleasant air and easy motion seem to be agreeable to you, we may as well ride slowly for a while longer.

"In your intercourse with us you will find it is never necessary for us to hurry when, for any good reason, we choose to loiter, and, therefore, if you care to hear me talk, I will take the time to correct another wrong impression you seem to have.

"You spoke, Doctor, about the people owning these houses. No one owns them."

"Do they belong to the state?" asked the doctor.

"There is no state."

"Well, this is a curious condition of affairs," resumed the doctor. "Here is valuable property belonging to no one and no government to claim it. I should think anyone that happened along could take possession."

"Now you are right," said Thorwald. "That is just the state of the case. It is with houses and all other property as I told you it was with this carriage. All the right one has to any object is the right to use it. Everything that has been produced by art and skill is just as free as the bounties of nature, such as air and water and land, which of course no one would ever dream of subjecting to private ownership."

The doctor winced as he heard Thorwald include land among these free bounties of nature, and the expression of his face did not escape the quick eye of the Martian, who exclaimed:

"So you earth-dwellers are still in the habit of buying and selling land, are you?"

"That was the practice when we left home," replied the doctor. "And I cannot understand how we can do differently. Your views of property are so strange to us that I am sure my companion will join me in asking you to explain them more fully."

"I certainly do," I said.

"Property," began Thorwald, "we do not have, but we have many of the rights of proprietorship in the things we use from time to time. And what other benefit than the free use of what we need could be derived from the possession of things? Suppose I, for example, owned a thousand acres of land and a hundred fine mansions. I could cultivate but a small part of the land and occupy but one house at a time, and of what value would the remainder be?"

"Would not such palaces as these on this beautiful street bring a good rent?" I inquired.

"Don't be stupid," replied Thorwald good-naturedly. "You must know by this time that we are not a race of self-seekers, each one taking advantage of the necessity of his neighbor. But I suppose it is difficult for you to appreciate a state of society in which each individual considers the feelings and needs of others as much as his own. With us this principle is not preached any more, but it is actually practiced in all our affairs."

"I will try to keep that in mind," I said, "although it is a fact I can hardly realize. But about this matter of houses I want to make another inquiry. After you have become established in a beautiful home to which you have no more right than anyone else, what is to prevent some other man (I use the word for convenience) coming forward and asking you to give it up to him?"

"Nothing," answered Thorwald. "In such a case I should immediately move out and let him have it, knowing he must be entirely unselfish in the matter and that there must be some sufficient reason for the request."

"But would you go to all the trouble of moving without even knowing his reason?"

"Yes, I would do it to accommodate him, but then the trouble would be nothing. We would merely have to go out and take another house."

"But would you not have to move all the furniture?"

"Oh, no. We could take anything we pleased, of course, but it is not usual to make radical changes. Another house would contain all that was desirable. As a matter of fact, however, such removals are by no means frequent. We usually remain in one place and acquire all the tender associations of home which could be possible under any system. But if a family should increase so that it would be better for them to take a larger house, they could easily find one, or if not they would ask those who are fond of that work to build one to their taste. The moment a thing is made or produced it belongs to the general store, to be used by any and all who need it."

"Under such conditions," said I, "what we call the eighth commandment would be superfluous."

"If that refers to theft," answered Thorwald, "you are certainly right, for it is impossible to steal where everything is free.

"It will be well for you to understand how happily we have solved this question of property, but of course we could not have found such a solution until we had first reached a high spiritual plane and learned the lesson of true brotherhood. From your words I know just about the point in our development which corresponds with the present state of your race, and therefore I know something of the nature of the struggle through which the earth is now passing. I warn you that the unrestricted right of private ownership is a menace to your civilization, all the greater because its evil is probably not clearly seen. We are assured by our historians, who try to point out the causes for all the great convulsions in our career, that excessive individualism in property rights, with its selfish disregard of others, was a potent factor in the downfall of many of the enlightened nations of our antiquity. We have noticed that even our animals have the instinct of possession, and it is certain that the love of ownership and accumulation has been one of the hardest evils to eradicate from our naturally selfish nature. If you should ever return to the earth, do not neglect to signal for this danger."

"But what is the remedy?" asked the doctor. "The system of which you have been speaking might be called the mainspring of our society. I can hardly imagine what we should be without it. With our note of warning, what message of help will you send?" "Doctor," answered Thorwald, "it pleases me to hear you ask that question, and I am rejoiced also that I have so good an answer for you. The remedy is to be found in the law of love. Follow that law as closely as possible. The way will be hard, the progress slow, but every step taken will be a solid advance. It is the only safe road, and you will find that every other will lead to disappointment and disaster."

Whenever Thorwald struck these high spiritual themes he spoke with such enthusiasm and positiveness that our respect for him increased rapidly.



CHAPTER XII.

WE REACH THORWALD'S HOME.

All this time we had been riding leisurely along, enraptured with the delightful country, while the way itself and the estates on either hand offered such variety of landscape that the view never became tiresome nor uninteresting.

But as the day was waning, our friends quickened the pace and showed us a burst of speed. This was most exhilarating, and soon brought us to the station where Thorwald told us we were to take an express train for home, which was about two hundred miles distant.

When we alighted we left our carriage by the roadside among many others, and entered an immense building. Both inside and out there were plenty of people moving around, but without noise or unpleasant bustle. With no delay, and also with no haste, we entered what appeared to be a smaller apartment opening out of the general waiting-room. It had the appearance of an elegant drawing-room, the rich but comfortable-looking furniture being disposed in a careless manner, which helped to make us feel at home, if anything could bring us that sensation. There was a door at each end of the room, and soon these were closed and we felt an almost imperceptible jar. The doctor glanced hastily at Thorwald and said:

"Can it be possible that we are to travel in this apartment?"

"Yes," answered Thorwald, "this is our modern traveling coach, and we are already on our way to the city in which my friend here and I reside."

This latter fact surprised us, for we could not perceive by our senses that we were in motion. But as we sat wondering and trying to imagine ourselves flying through space, the doors opened, a pleasant breeze fanned our cheeks, and the doors closed again, we felt that slight jar repeated, and then we were quiet once more. This occurred every two or three minutes, and, remembering what Thorwald had previously told us, we realized that we were riding in a perfectly tight car in a vacuum tube and that these short but frequent stops were to keep us supplied with fresh air.

Thorwald explained this to us again, and told us that the coaches were of different sizes to accommodate large or small parties, and that one could ride alone if he chose to. The cars started so frequently that it was seldom necessary to wait more than a few minutes. The doctor thought there must be great liability to accident, but Thorwald said:

"No, we do not consider the risk worth taking into account. Let me illustrate with a familiar example. Suppose you had just seen a cable tested with a ton's weight without a strain. Should you fear to take hold of the cable and lift yourself from the ground lest it might break and you should fall? The mechanism of this road is just as sure as that. The force that is driving us forward is no longer mysterious. The laws of electricity are well defined, and its mighty power is under perfect control. Nothing is left to chance, and the result is that there have been no accidents for many, many years, and practically speaking there cannot be any."

When we first entered the coach we noticed that there were no windows, and as the doors had no glass we wondered why it was not dark. The light was good broad daylight, exactly like that which fills a room when there are good windows, but where the direct rays of the sun do not enter; and, as we could see no lamps nor fixtures, we could not understand how the illumination could be artificial. But such it was. We carried an electric battery with us, and the lamps were out of sight, and so arranged that they gave us only reflected light. The system was so perfect that the imitation sunlight was just as good as the real, as far as we could discover.

"This is the way we light all our interiors," said Thorwald, "and of course the apparatus is so governed that we can have any amount of illumination we please, little or much."

The doctor was about to ask some question in relation to this practical improvement, when he was stopped by hearing a little silver-toned bell ring. In an instant the doors opened, and Thorwald rose and announced that we had reached the end of our journey. We could not have been in the car more than fifteen minutes, and the doctor and I supposed our ride of two hundred miles had just begun.

"Well, if you travel at this rate," said the doctor, "I do not wonder you have obliterated all national boundaries, for the ends of the world are right at your doors. And now, Thorwald, I would like to see the great tube through which we have been carried so swiftly."

Thorwald smiled a little and led the way through another superb waiting- room out into the open air. Here the doctor looked in all directions, but could see nothing of the object for which he was searching.

"You have seen all any of us can see," said Thorwald.

"We merely step into the comfortable car, sit a few minutes, step out again, and go home. In the meantime we have been carried under ground and under water, across valleys and through hills, but the way itself, the tube through which the car flies, is entirely hidden from sight. Where it is above ground, trees and shrubbery screen it from view, so that it does not mar the landscape. We think much of this, and should regret exceedingly if it became necessary for any such utilitarian object to interfere with our aesthetic enjoyment of nature."

Thorwald's friend now took leave of us, expressing the hope that he would soon see us again. He had taken some little part in our conversation, but had left the burden of it to Thorwald, who was older, and who was, moreover, our first acquaintance.

It seemed singular to the doctor and me that we had attracted so little attention among the people whom we had encountered since leaving the ship. To give the reason for this, which we afterwards discovered, is to reveal one of the pleasantest peculiarities of the Martian character—that is, the entire absence of a disagreeable curiosity. Our dress and appearance and the rather novel circumstances connected with our arrival on the planet, which must quickly have become known, were certainly calculated to excite their interest, and in a similar situation on the earth there is no telling what might have happened to us from a curious mob. But here all was order and quiet. Everybody went about his own business and treated our party with additional respect, it seemed, because some of us were strangers. We found out later how anxious all these people were to learn everything about us, but they were content to wait till the knowledge should come to them in a proper way.

Thorwald now selected a light, pretty carriage, and after a brisk ride through another charming avenue and up a steep hill, we alighted at the door of a noble mansion whose majestic proportions were in harmony with the wide, open plateau upon which it stood alone. Upon entering, Thorwald was at once affectionately greeted by his wife, and while he was introducing us as natives of another world his son and daughter came bounding toward him from an adjacent room.

These were quite small children, but in a few moments Thorwald brought in from another part of the house a young woman of about my age, apparently, and introduced her as a neighbor. It needed but a glance to tell us that she was beautiful as a dream, and she moved about with that exquisite grace which comes only from the highest culture. She spoke to us with such ease and naturalness that we were at once relieved from whatever embarrassment the circumstances might easily occasion.

"Antonia is our very dear friend," said Thorwald, "and, although she hides her curiosity so well, you will find her an exceedingly interested listener to your history and adventures."

"Yes," said the charming voice of Antonia, "Thorwald has told me just enough about you to make me want to know more. Your moon, which is so much larger than our little satellites, caused a great sensation when it was seen coming toward us so rapidly. The situation was well calculated to cause us anxiety, if we had been subject to such a feeling, but, as usual with us at the present day, it has turned out to our advantage; for it has given us two such worthy representatives of a neighboring race."

"I am sure," I answered, "that the advantage is greatly on our side."

I could not say more, for I was conscious that the doctor was watching closely to see how I was affected by the presence of this royal girl. When he saw I was inclined to be somewhat quiet he felt impelled to say something, and offered the following compromising remark:

"If we had only brought Mona safely off the moon with us, you would have had something more worthy of your interest than we are, and my friend here also would now be in better spirits."

Antonia had a question in her eyes but her perfect breeding kept her from putting it into words, after the final expression of the doctor's speech. Of course, I could not ignore the allusion, and said:

"Mona is a friend of the doctor's whom I have not the pleasure of knowing. I suppose he thinks her cheerful disposition, of which I have heard before, would make our present situation even more enjoyable than it is. Speaking for myself, however, I think that would be impossible."

With that she rose, and, with a pleasant word of adieu to us, told Thorwald she would come in another day after we were well rested.

It was now approaching night-fall and dinner was to be speedily announced. The doctor and I were shown to a suite of dressing-rooms, and as soon as we were alone he said:

"Do you think Antonia is as handsome as Mona?"

"If you will show me Mona I shall then be able to judge. But how did I carry myself on my first introduction to a daughter of Mars? Do you think I am in any danger of putting her in Margaret's place in my heart?"

"Perhaps not," replied the doctor. "You kept command of yourself pretty well; but I think the secret of that is that you have not quite forgotten Mona."

"Excuse my frankness, Doctor, but I must tell you I am getting a little tired of Mona. I wish I might never hear her name again. If I can resist the charms of such an exquisite bundle of perfections as Antonia is, do you think I am likely to be overcome by a mocking-bird of your imagination?"

"If you could only hear the voice of that bird once more," replied the doctor, "you would soon begin to sing another tune. But let us go down if you are ready, and not keep them waiting."

We had looked forward with much interest to our first meal in one of these sumptuous houses, and, moreover, being quite hungry, we were glad to find that we were just in time to sit down. If we had felt any fear lest the absence of meat would make a meager bill of fare, the experience of the next hour relieved us. The dishes were all strange, but highly palatable, and the fact that there was nothing that appeared to be in the least unwholesome did not detract from the delicious savor which every viand possessed. The rich variety of courses and the elegance of the service made it a dinner long to be remembered, and gave a new zest to our life on Mars.

It had been a long day to us, and we were allowed to retire at an early hour, being conducted to adjacent and communicating rooms. But, though our fatigue was great, it is not strange that we lay awake awhile, talking of the wonderful things we had seen and heard. Speaking of the Martian method of rapid transit the doctor said:

"Besides its expedition, there is another feature to recommend their way of traveling."

"What is that?"

"Why, there is no danger of getting a seat just behind a window fiend."

"There is something in that," I answered, "but I am thinking just now of our dinner. We must certainly learn how to cook eggs and vegetables before we return to the earth."

The character of our conversation, judged from these scraps, shows that we had no excuse for remaining awake any longer.



CHAPTER XIII.

A MORNING TALK.

Next morning we arose early, but found the family already up. Thorwald seemed disposed to lose no time in showing and telling us everything interesting, and so invited us at once to the top of the house, to take a view of the country. The sun was just rising, and its pleasant rays lighted up a scene of surpassing beauty. We seemed to be set in the middle of a vast park, whose boundaries extended in all directions as far as we could see. The landscape presented the most varied character, wood and water, hill and plain, and every feature needed to make a most delightful picture. Not the least of its charms, and perhaps the greatest, was the profusion of color, which filled the vision and satisfied the sense of beauty with its contrasts and its harmonies. Some of the hills might justly be called mountains, and yet on the rugged sides as well as on the summit of each were grand mansions surrounded by cultivated fields.

The doctor made some remark about this latter fact, and Thorwald said:

"These situations, which would be almost inaccessible without the aid of electricity, are now the favorite sites for building. This wonderful power levels all hills in the ease with which it does its work. No task is too hard for it and it asks no sympathy, so we may as well ride and carry our freight up hill, if we prefer it, and build our houses on the mountain tops. One characteristic of our nature has not changed, and there is still a great variety of taste, so that plenty of people choose the lower land to build upon. I see by your faces that you both admire this panorama and think we were wise to place our house on such high ground. We like to have our friends take this view in the morning, when the world has been freshened by the night's rain."

"Is it not just as beautiful at sunset after a shower?" I asked.

"Oh," answered Thorwald, "I haven't told you that it never rains in the day-time, have I?"

"No, indeed, that's another surprise for us. But how is it managed?"

"You will remember I told you," said Thorwald in reply, "that it was found that rain enough fell for all parts of the world if it could only be rightly distributed. Then when we had discovered by a long series of experiments how to make the clouds shed their water at our pleasure, we set about devising a means whereby we could give each section the right quantity of rain at just the right time.

"We established a central bureau in each country and let the people in every city or district vote and send in their request for a shower or a long rain ten days in advance. At first it required only a majority vote, but this occasioned no end of trouble, as half the community would often believe they were suffering for want of rain when the other half wanted fair weather. Then the rule was changed so as to make a three-quarters vote necessary, which did not help matters much, for very often the crops would be seriously damaged before so large a proportion of the people could be brought to see the desirability of a rainy day.

"At length the happy thought was conceived of letting it rain over each part of the country every night, and giving the right to vote only on the quantity desired. This keeps everything fresh and has been found of immense benefit to vegetation. Besides, it inconveniences no one, in the present state of our society, however it might have been when the plan was first adopted."

"What of those people," I asked, "whose occupation or pleasure calls them out in the night?"

"We have no such class," replied Thorwald. "We have found by long experience that it is best to follow the indication of nature, and take the day for labor and the night for rest. This practice and the attention devoted to our diet have been chief factors in lengthening the span of our lives. If this line of action is best for one it is best for all, and, as everybody is doing the best he can, it follows that there are literally no people out at night."

"I suppose you would call me stupid again," said I, "if I should ask if you have any such old-time personages as guardians of the peace."

"Indeed I should," answered our friend, "for you ought to know us better. If you will excuse a poor witticism, the peace is old enough on our planet to go without a guardian."

As we smiled at this the doctor was encouraged to try his hand, but, not feeling equal to addressing a pleasantry to the usually august Martian, he turned to me and remarked:

"This would be a pretty poor place for an umbrella trust, wouldn't it?"

As we left our place of outlook and made our way down stairs, Thorwald resumed:

"As I have said before, we have reached our present happy condition through many bitter experiences. We read that at one time people had so much work to do and were so thoughtless as to what was good for their physical welfare that they began to rob themselves of their proper rest. Others found it convenient to follow occupations which obliged them to work all night and get what sleep they could in the day-time. Night was considered about the only time that could be utilized, also, for the activities of social life.

"This condition lasted a long time, with the tendency continually toward the practice of encroaching more and more upon the hours of rest appointed by nature. It was then the period of making many laws, and large and influential legislative bodies began to set a bad example to the rest of the world by holding their sessions mainly in the night. Newspapers thought it necessary to appear full-fledged at the break of day, and the railroads made but little distinction between darkness and daylight in the matter of carrying people hither and thither. The change was slow, but it was in the wrong direction. Darkness was driven out by more improved methods of lighting, and houses and streets were brilliant the whole night long; and it finally became the fashion in both society and business circles literally to turn night into day. For a time that remained the universal custom, strange as it seems to us now, but the practice of sleeping in the day-time never became natural. This means that the whole world was living on from year to year without the amount of rest required to keep the race alive. There could be but one result. A brood of nervous troubles fell upon us; life began to shorten, and we became aware that a serious crisis was before us. As soon as we were convinced that we were bringing all this evil upon ourselves by our disregard of the laws of nature, there was a change; and it is well for us that there was still virility enough left in the race to make a change possible. A gradual reform was instituted which, overcoming many difficulties and delays but with no serious set-backs, brought us, after long years, to our present happy way. Of course, our improvement in every other direction, moral as well as physical, assisted us all along in this reform. Now, looking back on our course, and comparing our present with our former state, we are perfectly sure what is best for us, and he would be a rash man who should intimate that we are not doing right in using the night for rest.

"But this is getting to be quite a long talk for so early in the morning. Let us see if breakfast is not ready."

This meal proved to be as appetizing as the first, although the dishes were entirely different; being made up, apparently, of fruit and cereals.

The doctor and I had been exceedingly interested in the way the dinner of the evening before had been served. We did not understand it, and now we were equally puzzled to see the breakfast courses come and go. No one came in to make any change in the table, and our hostess seemed to have as little to do with it as the rest of us. She presided with great dignity, and, as I watched the changes going on with such perfect ease and quiet, I could not refrain from saying:

"If it is proper for me to ask, will you tell us how this is done, Mrs. ——"

"We do not use those titles now," she interrupted. "Call me Zenith, the name by which I was introduced to you. I suppose Thorwald has told you that electricity does nearly all our work. I arrange things in order before the meal begins, and then by merely touching a button under the table the apparatus is set in motion which brings and takes away everything in the manner you see."

"It is wonderful," I exclaimed. "And if we are to believe all that Thorwald has told us, I suppose you have no servants for any department of work."

"You are not entirely right," she returned. "We have excellent servants. This obedient power, that does our work so willingly, is our servant, and so is the mechanism with which our houses are filled, and through which this silent force is exerted. Many of our animals are domesticated and trained to do light services, but as for servants of our own flesh and blood, no such class exists. We all share whatever work there is, and no labor is menial. Whatever I ask others to do I am glad to do for them when occasion offers. Do not suppose we are idle. There is work for us, but with our abundant strength and continual good health it is never a burden. Then there are the duties connected with our higher life and education, for we are ever seeking to fit ourselves for a still better existence than this."

We had now finished breakfast and were walking through the house. Zenith was a beautiful woman, although, from our point of view, of such generous proportions. She possessed the perfect form and the vigor and health of all the Martians. She was, moreover, graceful, modest, and winning. But Thorwald and the other men that we had seen possessed these latter qualities also, and Zenith exhibited the same strength of mind and the same devotion to lofty aims as her husband. In their equipment for the duties of life and in the ability to do valiant service for their kind they seemed equal. Evidently neither had a monopoly of any class of advantages, either of mind, body, or estate.