When Mona had left me at the close of this conversation, I proceeded to take stock of my sensations. I had certainly been seeing a new phase of Mona's character. Could I make such vigorous language consistent with my former conception of her? I answered yes to this question after studying it awhile, for I concluded that she was only just in giving me a lesson that I deserved. Her innocence was only the more evident, and that was the ground on which I built my faith in her. But now came the inquiry whether my love could withstand such a shock as it had received. I was no longer blind to the truth. Mona had no stronger affection for me than for her other friends, and it began to be doubtful if she ever would have, considering her peculiar education in affairs of the heart. If I continued to love her, it must be with the full knowledge that I had not as yet gained the slightest success in my effort to secure her for my own exclusive possession. My exuberant passion had received a serious shock, for I had been plainly told that it was making me appear ridiculous. Then, when there seemed to be danger that my love must grow cold under such treatment, I began to argue Mona's cause to myself, and I bade myself take comfort once more in the old thoughts. She was young and careless, besides being entirely new to our manner of wooing, and I had been too hasty in my approaches and no doubt tired her with my continuous solicitations. But then, on the other hand, I continued, the case seemed much more hopeless than before after such a plain rebuff, and if I had any self-respect I could not continue to pay my court where my honest love was made a matter of jest.

These thoughts passed rapidly through my mind, and I cannot tell to what rash resolve they would have led me had not the music of Mona's laughing voice just then come floating in from another room. As usual, this was more than I could resist, and its immediate effect now was to drive out reason and to enthrone love once more. All my doubt and uncertainty vanished in a twinkling, my self-respect hid itself in a dark corner of my memory, and as I instinctively started to find the fair singer I realized again, with a feeling too strong for argument, that I was still very much in love.



CHAPTER XXVI.

AN ENVIABLE CONDITION.

Our life in this cultured home continued to be as pleasant as were these first days. There was always something new to show us or to tell us. We would walk out every day and often step into a carriage and take a long ride. Our friends were famous walkers but were considerate of our feebleness, and still our returning strength, added to the great buoyancy of our bodies on that smaller planet, soon gave us also remarkable walking powers.

Sometimes the children would accompany us on an all-day excursion, and then the house would be left not only unlocked, but with the doors wide open perhaps. When we remarked on this, Zenith told us that if anyone happened along he would be at perfect liberty to go in and help himself to anything in the house. This was always understood, whether the people were at home or not, and one need not even go through the formality of asking, if he could see what he wanted. This referred not merely to bodily refreshment, of which one might be in need, but literally to everything the house contained; and the reason why there was any sort of comfort living under such conditions was, that the members of that society were all and severally of such ripe characters that it was well known one would not deprive another of anything he was using except for a reason which would be satisfactory to both.

"If we could communicate with the people on the earth," said the doctor to me when we sat alone conversing about these things, "and tell them how the inhabitants here live, they would want to organize an expedition and start for Mars right away."

"Yes, I think they would," I assented. "And yet, if what Thorwald says is true, the earth will one day be as good as Mars. Do you believe it?"

"Well, the fact is," answered the doctor, "I am ready to believe almost anything now."

"Oh, I wish Thorwald could hear you say that."

"I should not object," he continued. "I am sure that some power, not comprehended by our science or philosophy, has operated here to bring these people to the condition in which we find them, and if the same kind forces are at work on the earth, let us hope they will do as much for us, no matter how much time it takes. If a belief in such a power is faith, then perhaps I am beginning to have a little faith.

"I remember I used to hear our preachers in their public prayers ask God that every form of vice and crime might be banished from the earth, and that the time might come when there should be no more sin, but only love and beauty and happiness. I have heard such prayers a hundred times, and never thought much about them. But now I am forced to think, and it seems to me that these prayers would not be made continually unless there were a hope and expectation in the minds of religious people that they would some time be answered. It is not for me to assume that such a hope is unreasonable, drawn as it is from the book which so many believe is the word of God."

I rejoiced to hear my friend talk in this way, but it seemed very odd that he should be preaching my own doctrine to me. I had had the same thoughts, and had been trying to find the right time to offer them to the doctor. I am sure I was thankful that he was coming to such views without a word from me, for he would probably be much more apt to hold to them.

The foregoing conversation was in the evening, and the next morning we were all sitting comfortably in the music room, when Thorwald said:

"The other day I began to give you some orderly account of our history, but you see how it has been broken into by the relation of different phases, in answer to your questions. It seems to me now that it will be more interesting to you if I continue in the same way and take up one subject at a time. And now that we have a little time before us, I wish you would suggest some point upon which you would like to have me talk; that is, if it is agreeable to you."

To which the doctor replied:

"I like your plan very much and I am sure we both have plenty of questions which will keep you supplied with topics. I have desired for some time to ask you about your industrial system. I can see how electricity has relieved you of the most arduous labor, but there must remain much disagreeable work, as we would call it, to be done with the hand. In our busy life there are a thousand such tasks, which I cannot conceive of being performed by machinery, many of them hard only because they are monotonous and awake no interest or enthusiasm in the performer. Men and women are continually wearing themselves out with such work. You must have abolished all that, if everybody here is comfortable and happy. I am very anxious to hear how it has been done."

"In answering your question," Thorwald began, "let me say, first, that I presume we have learned to employ machines in a great many ways which to you would seem incomprehensible. The drudgery and much of the monotony of labor have been removed, as well as its severity. But still, as you surmise, there is plenty of work for all. Our higher civilization does not require less work than yours, but rather more and of greater variety. It is all done quietly, however, without friction or any of the unpleasant features of former times.

"I suspect that the real secret of the change is in the elevation of individual character. This has done more to better our condition than electricity and all the material improvements and inventions of the age. You must believe me when I say that no sort of labor is considered disgraceful, and, further, that one occupation is just as honorable as another. The man who goes into the mine and superintends the machine which gathers the precious metal is esteemed as highly as he who, with an artist's brain and fingers, shapes it to its highest use. The carpenter who works with his hands in the building of the house can hold his head as high as the architect who has spent many years in learning how to create the design. Why not? Both are engaged on the same work, each one in his favorite, and so his best, way. Both are working, not for daily bread or other selfish end, but for the sake of doing something useful. The perfect content and satisfaction we all enjoy in our labor come partly from our abundant health and strength, and largely, also, from our entire freedom from anxiety in regard to the means of maintenance for ourselves and our families. In these respects we are all equally fortunate. We are absolutely unconcerned about what material things we shall have for ourselves or leave to our children."

"Do you then all have equal pay for your work, and that so much that it places you above anxiety?" asked the doctor."

"Yes," answered Thorwald, "we are all paid equally, because we are not paid at all. So, having no wages and owning no property, why should we be anxious? You know I have told you we can have for our use anything that is produced or made without even asking anybody for it. The mere fact that we need a thing makes it rightfully ours."

"But what is the incentive to labor if you get nothing for it, and can live just as well without it?"

"The incentive is in the love for our work and the consciousness that we are doing something to make someone happier and the world a little better. Let me give you an illustration, a personal one, if you will excuse me. A neighbor asks me to make him a plan for a house. He may be a writer of books or he may be a carriage maker, or what not, it makes not the slightest difference. I enjoy that kind of work and, having obtained his ideas in regard to a house, I do the best I can. I cannot conceive that I could do any better if I knew he would pay me for the work, as you say. In like manner he asks other neighbors to build his house for him, and he has no difficulty in finding enough men who enjoy that occupation as much as I do my part of the work, and the principle which governs them in their labor is as high as that which controls me."

"Then," said the doctor, "I should think the poor man—I beg your pardon, I mean the hod-carrier—could have as grand a house as the architect himself."

"I don't know what a hod-carrier is," replied Thorwald, "but I get your meaning, and you are quite right. As an example of just that state of things, I will tell you that the man who tends the digging machine in my garden lives in a larger and handsomer house than this one. Why not? He has a large family, and he and his wife are educated and refined people."

"But with no physical wants to provide against, I should think some men would find existence easier not to work at all. According to your theory they could live in as good style as the toilers and have no one to call them to account."

"No one but themselves. Every man is his own monitor, and he needs no other. He knows his duty, and he has that within him which keeps him up to it more effectually than any outside influence could. In regard to a man's not caring to work, we have been through all that, and we have now no such cases. We found out long ago that it is better to have some one stated employment and follow it. But this does not mean that the work becomes a burden. One can rest as often and as long as he pleases. There is no one to intimate in any way that he should be at work, as the question is left entirely to him. The moment that work ceases to be a necessity it becomes a pleasure and the most natural thing in the world. The multiplication of mechanical inventions has greatly reduced the volume of labor, so that there is really but little for each individual to do; and the truth is, there is never any lack of men. If anything, there is not enough work."

"Your words," said the doctor, "reveal a remarkable condition of affairs, and I fear it will be many, many years before we can begin to think seriously of such a plan, so long as to make it almost hopeless; but there is one more question I would like to ask. With all this freedom of choice, how does it happen that all do not flock to the easy and pleasant occupations, and leave the disagreeable tasks undone?"

To this Thorwald replied:

"Let me ask you, Doctor, if you have not an answer to your question in your own industrial system. Do you not always find men to do every required work, no matter how hard and distasteful it may seem to you? I do not mean that the parallel is exact, but this seems to be governed now, as it has always been, by a dispensation of nature. We are born with different tastes and inclinations. Each one chooses his own occupation, and it comes to pass providentially, just as it did in the olden time, that all do not choose alike."

"Are all equally well educated?"

"No, but all have an equal opportunity. Everyone is given a broad foundation of general information. The mind and hand are both trained and prepared to do good work, and then the choice of occupation is made and the special education begins. But one who has chosen some kind of manual labor as his vocation very often takes up literary or other professional work in addition, and everybody has some kind of study on hand, by which the mind is kept employed. There is no uneducated class among us."

"Before you reached such nobility of character," said the doctor, "that panacea for so many ills, I suppose you had troubles enough. You have already intimated as much to us. I wonder if it would not help us to appreciate better your present condition if you should tell us briefly of your experiences in solving so happily some of the problems of your career. I am thinking now more especially of the difficulties of your social and industrial reformation."

"I will attempt something of the kind," Thorwald replied, "if you are sure I shall not weary you. Remember to prompt me if I do not follow the lines of most interest to you.

"If you should prefer to read you would find the facts you want fully set forth in our histories. The records are especially full and exhaustive on the subjects you have mentioned, for the important changes, or, at least, the changes whose story will be most instructive to you, came in a time of great intellectual activity. Of the earlier days the history is unfortunately less complete, and still further back the records become uncertain and many are merely legendary.

"Let us begin at a time when civilization was confined to a small portion of the surface of our planet. Society was then crude and unformed. It was a rude, selfish age. But the germ of better things was there, for the gospel of Christ had been planted in the world and was sure to spring into life when its time should come. But meanwhile our evil nature was strong and choked the good seed, and made advancement slow and uncertain. Power was divided among many rulers who were despots, whose principal occupation was war. The people were valued merely for their fighting qualities and enjoyed only such rights and privileges as their cruel masters allowed them. Being slaves themselves, they held in a still more bitter slavery every prisoner captured in war.

"Life was mere animal existence for most of the race, without enjoyment for the present or hope for the future. Education being denied them, there was no mental stimulus to compensate for physical wretchedness, and even their meager religious privileges were accompanied with so many superstitious and unnatural rites that life was relieved of but a little of its burden.

"Gradually power was concentrated in the hands of a few autocrats, nations were consolidated, and war began to be a science. Then some attention was paid to the comfort of the people for the purpose of making them better soldiers. Soon it was found that intelligence was the best weapon a man could carry, and so education, in a very stinted form, was encouraged. This was a fatal blunder on the part of the rulers, for as soon as the mind was unfettered the shackles began to fall from the body, and the days of absolutism were numbered. The spirit of knowledge, once released from its imprisonment, became a dominant power in the world, and as time went on the people demanded a voice in the management of affairs. In this way came constitutional government, which for a long time held sway, and under which there came immense benefits to all. Religion and learning flourished, science and art blessed the race with their bounties, and the world began to be a brighter and better place to live in, comparing the times with the ages of ignorance and cruelty that went before.

"And now the stream of liberty broadened, and before long became a flood that swept away thrones and scepters. Personal government ceased, and the people became their own political masters. The right of suffrage was extended and slavery was abolished, while commerce and the spirit of adventure carried civilization to many parts of the world. Then appeared a swarm of mechanical inventions to lighten the labor of mankind, electricity came with its strong arm and great promise, and easier and swifter transportation by land and sea brought the nations and peoples together to the mutual advantage of all.

"Education, once the possession of the rich and powerful only, now shed its benign influence over the whole people. Whereas, in the early times, learning had caused the downfall of despotic power, it was now considered a principal safeguard of good government, and made compulsory. Wealth was accumulated, luxuries multiplied, and great strides were taken in the material welfare of both nations and individuals. It was an age of intense activity. So rapidly did events follow each other, and such possibilities were anticipated, that enthusiasts, whose heads were turned in the mad whirl, prophesied the immediate opening of the millennium.

"Judged by all the race had previously known of freedom, of prosperity, and of happiness, it was a grand age, and that generation might well be proud of their timely birth. But, looked at from our present standpoint, we can see it was still a day of sadness and sin. We understand, what it was more difficult for them to realize, that the revival of pure religion, awakening the conscience of mankind, had brought about all that was good in their condition, while many evil tendencies had only been exaggerated by their material prosperity. So it was still a very imperfect world. Political freedom they had, but there was no emancipation from the powerful thraldom of selfishness. That spirit held universal sway, governing not only individual action but also the policy of nations.

"One of the highest sentiments known to the times, and some writers placed it even above religion, was love of country. Impassioned oratory was fond of declaring that loyalty to one's native land was the loftiest emotion the heart could feel, and no voice was found to rebuke the utterance."

I was a little shocked to hear Thorwald, in his earnest manner, give expression to these words, as though he looked upon such views in a very serious light. I was therefore bold enough to interrupt him with:

"Excuse me, Thorwald, but would not these orators, when their attention was called to their extreme language, acknowledge that love to God was a still higher sentiment?"

"Perhaps they would, for with all the selfishness of the period there was a deep-seated belief in a divine being. But even so, I still would not allow them to be right."

"Why," I asked, "is there more than one motive higher than patriotism?"

"Yes, love is higher," answered Thorwald. "Let me explain. What did love of country mean? At first one's country was a single family, then a tribe, and later a city, when the measure of one's patriotism was the measure also of his hatred for everything foreign. In time a state was formed from many cities and towns, and its citizens were taught to look on all other states as enemies. Then these states that had been fighting each other consolidated into a nation, made up, perhaps, of different races and languages. By this time patriotism became a lofty theme, but it was the same spirit essentially as that which prompts the members of two savage tribes to fight to the death through a blind and unreasoning devotion to their leaders. So do you not think that love to all, which can only come from a generous heart, is more to be praised than love to a part, which necessitates enmity to all the rest? I should think it would have puzzled the people of that age sometimes to tell of what their country really consisted. Was their highest allegiance due to their city, or their county, or their state, or their nation?

"To what did this immoderate love of country lead? To a passion for aggrandizement at the expense of others, and what was this but selfishness with a gloss so bright as to make it look like a virtue? It led to the strangling of conscience in national affairs, so as to make wrong seem right, and, more than that, to persistence in a course when it was well known to be wrong. It taught false ideas of honor and made the world one grand dueling field, where the energy of nations was spent in watching for insults from their neighbors, and where the quick blow followed every real or fancied offense.

"Do not imagine, by what I have said, that I would have advised these people to love their country less. On the contrary, I should tell them to love it so much that they could not see it do wrong; to love it so much that they should have no room in their hearts for bitterness toward others; so much that they should strive to have it lead the world in a march toward universal brotherhood. Love for one's neighbor should not stop at state or national boundaries. Love should know neither caste nor country, but should take in the world, and, I might add for your benefit, other worlds if necessary. Love is a condition of the heart, something within, not without, the man, and when fully developed reaches out to everything that God has made."

"It seems to me, Thorwald," I ventured to say, "that these sentiments, which I can see are admirable, belong to your present high development, while we of the earth have reached only about the condition of the people whose traits you have been describing."

"Then," resumed Thorwald, "you can perhaps understand another evil of those times. It did not grow directly out of love for country, but that too much lauded sentiment prevented the people from seeing its full enormity. This was the practice of attempting by law to protect the inhabitants of one country by shutting out the goods of all others. This prohibition included both the manufactured articles and natural products, and the means adopted was the placing of a high duty on imports. If the political leaders of a people could succeed in convincing them that such a course would raise wages, increase the opportunities for accumulating money, and make them in general more prosperous, then it was forthwith adopted, entirely without regard to the effect it might have on the rest of the world. It is not at all plain to be seen, from reading the history of those times, that the happiest results always followed the passage of these laws, but the experiment was tried whenever a majority felt that there was a fair expectation of such benefits. The only question considered was whether it would be good policy for their particular country. And if one result of this selfish legislation was the closing of mills and the loss of employment to thousands of workmen in some other part of the world, these facts were paraded in the public prints as though they were matter for rejoicing. Men were yet to learn that the maxim which the politicians were fond of quoting, 'the greatest good to the greatest number,' should have a world-wide application to give it any meaning at all."

While my prejudices were receiving another shock, I knew the doctor was really enjoying this part of Thorwald's talk. So, in order to draw him out, I said to him, as Thorwald paused:

"Doctor, I think our friend must belong to your party."

"I should rather belong to his party," replied the doctor.

"Thank you," said Thorwald. "That is a compliment which I appreciate; and now I think I have talked long enough for one sitting. Let us get some lunch, and then go out for a good walk."

Thorwald must have seen that the doctor's mood was softening, but he probably thought it wise not to speak more directly to him at present.



CHAPTER XXVII.

THE CHILDREN'S DAY.

As it was a holiday, the children accompanied us on our walk, and we had further opportunity of observing the easy, natural relations which existed between them and their parents. There was neither undue familiarity nor too much restraint. There was respect as well as affection on both sides, and a scrupulous concern for each other's feelings. Evidently the children had all the rights they could appropriate to their advantage, while there was no abrogation of the privileges or the duties of the parents.

At a convenient time during the afternoon I spoke to Zenith about this happy condition of family affairs, and I was greatly enlightened and not a little amused by her reply.

"It was not always so," she said. "One of the sad chapters of our history tells us of an unfortunate episode in the family life. In the early days the father had complete control over his household, even the lives of its members being at his disposal. But as civilization advanced the law stepped in and protected the dependent ones from too harsh punishment and from neglect. In time sympathy for the weak and unprotected made all corporal punishment unpopular, both at home and at school, and soon discipline of every kind was much weakened. There appeared to be a growing impression on the part of the elders that there could not be any evil in the child's nature, and so if he were allowed to grow up without any particular training he would not go far out of the way. It seemed to be overlooked that this was something new in the history of the race, that the experiment had never been tried of giving the youth their own way, from the cradle up. It had been taught from very early times that the child, for its own future welfare, should receive correction, and the teaching had never before been departed from. The parents might just as well have put the reins of family government in the hands of the children at once, for this is what it came to in the end. The children, released from all restraint, lost first their respect for their elders, and then all regard for their feelings. Instead of love there grew up a careless indifference, and in place of that tender thoughtfulness so necessary to happiness in this relation, parents began to receive harsh and even cruel treatment. As we look back upon it now, it seems strange that the result was not anticipated, and the trend of events changed by a decided stand against such an unnatural course. But the approach to a crisis was insidious and, as I have said, history furnished no parallel from which to draw a warning.

"Two things made it the worst time in the world for parents to become lax in their discipline. One was the growing sentiment in favor of independence which was permeating all classes of society, and the other the great revival of learning among the people. Given a large class of persons highly educated and taught to prize personal liberty above everything else, and still without the discretion that comes only with years, and what could be expected of them when left with no strong hand to guide them? The methods of education improved so rapidly, and there were such constantly increasing opportunities for obtaining knowledge, that there was some excuse for the children in getting the idea that they knew more than their fathers and mothers. This belief would not under any circumstances improve their manners, and at this time it only caused them to despise still more those who seemed willing to withdraw all claim to authority over them. Precocity, which had never been a popular trait, came to the front with no modesty to relieve its disagreeable character.

"But the conduct of the youth of both sexes was not confined to the exhibition of bad manners, nor to the mere passive indulgence of an undutiful spirit. These led gradually to a more serious phase of the rebellion, the inauguration of a series of petty annoyances, to be followed, naturally, by acts of downright injustice and cruelty. It seemed as if the old years of oppression to which, in a ruder age, the children had been subjected, were about to be repeated, with the parents for the victims. You must not suppose that these vast changes came about in the course of one generation. Just as a sentiment in favor of liberty will be perpetuated in a people from one generation to another, and increase with the lapse of years, so this feeling of independence of parental control and this decadence of natural affection were transmitted from one set of children to the next, and matters grew from bad to worse.

"At length the behavior of the young people became so notoriously bad that the matter had to be taken out of the heretofore sacred precincts of home and treated in a public manner. The press tried to work a reformation by ridicule and threats, and when this was seen to have no effect the legislatures took up the subject, and actually passed laws 'for the relief and protection of oppressed parents,' and 'for the reestablishment of rightful authority in the home.' These bold measures so angered the children that they declared they would not submit to such insults, but would take the matter of making laws, as well as all other branches of public business, into their own hands. They started their own organs, which made such silly declarations as this: 'We are young, but in all other respects we are superior to our elders. We have more intelligence, more spirit and courage, we outnumber them two to one, and, what is better than all the rest, we hold them already in our power. So why should we not use that power, and go forward and destroy every vestige of their authority? Let them work and earn our support, and we will do the rest.'"

"And now," asked Zenith, "how do you think the affair came out?"

"I confess," I answered, "that I shall have to give it up."

"Well," she continued, "the problem was solved, as so many others in our career have been, when the needed lesson had been learned, without our being subjected to the extremely dire results which seemed so imminent; and I am happy to be able to tell you that relief came through the efforts of one of my own sex. Just before the last ounce was added to the weight of foolishness and error which was to turn the world completely over, a girl made her appearance with sense enough to call a halt. She happened to be editing one of the fiery journals of her class, when it struck her one day that they were carrying the thing too far. She had the courage to say so, and got roundly abused for it. She persisted, obtained adherents and helpers, and soon a decided reaction set in. Like a house of cards, which a breath will destroy, the unstable structure the children had built fell to the ground, never to be restored.

"The lesson was not forgotten, and the experience, which appears laughable now, has been of great benefit to us at different times since. But the broadening of our minds and the general improvement in our character have long ago placed us beyond the danger of a recurrence of such events. Compared to our present state those were the days of our infancy."

As Zenith closed I told her I had enjoyed her story, and that I hoped the earth would not require such a lesson.

"I trust not," said Zenith.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

BUSINESS ETHICS.

The next day the doctor and I took the first opportunity to tell Thorwald that we were anxious to have him proceed with his narrative.

"Yes," he said, "I shall be glad to do so, for I had not reached the important part when our sitting broke up yesterday.

"I was describing to you a remarkable era in our career, and one of you mentioned the fact that the present condition of your race corresponded in some particulars with that age on Mars. If you shall discover further points of likeness as I continue, it will add a peculiar interest to my story.

"There is a difference of opinion among our historians in regard to those times. Some believe that the whole world was corrupt, that it was an age of material development only, and that, if there were any good impulses at all, they were so smothered with selfishness as to be of no account. But these writers lived long ago, and were themselves more or less under the shadow of that epoch. I strongly hold to the views of the great majority of our scholars, who tell us that, while there was too much evil of all kinds, there was also much good, and many believers in a final happy issue out of all the troubles of the time.

"In a society so entirely given up to the pursuit of wealth and worldly advantage of every sort, those who were trying to hold up the standard of righteousness and to alleviate the lot of their fellow beings should be remembered with gratitude. Among the multitude of inventions were many that were calculated to relieve the laborer of his severest tasks, to mitigate suffering, to ward off disease, and to lighten the load of mankind in various ways. Large sums of money were given for hospitals, charitable institutions, and colleges, and for other kinds of philanthropic work, while private benevolences were not uncommon. There was prosperity, too, of a certain kind, and some people were happy, or thought themselves so. In the records of that as of every period of our history, it is possible to find rays of light if we search for them, and I tell you these things in order that you may get a fair understanding of the situation, for in what follows you will see something of the other side.

"I think I shall not err if I say that the gigantic evil of the times, that from which others sprang, was the inordinate love of money. Even political power, by which the opportunity was obtained of doing public service, was too often sought merely for the better chance one had of making money, as the saying was. In the revolt against aristocratic government, the tendency in our race of going from one extreme to the other was again shown, and universal suffrage was adopted. This would have been wise if intelligence and honesty had also been universal. But the result proved it to be an exceedingly bad policy, for it created a large class of voters who held the high privilege of citizenship so meanly, and were themselves so venal, that they would even sell their votes to the highest bidder. This, supplemented by the immorality of some of the intelligent citizens, made politics corrupt and the name of politician too often a by-word.

"In doing business, by which was meant buying and selling and manufacturing, also financial dealings and commerce, the passion for money-getting was particularly prominent. An astonishingly small percentage of those that went into business, as they said, made a success, if we except the large manufacturers, but in spite of that it was a popular way of earning a livelihood. One thing that made it popular was the fact that there was always more or less speculation in it. The haste to get rich made men too careless of the rights of others."

"Do you mean that all business was conducted dishonestly?" I asked.

"No," answered Thorwald, "not as men looked at it then. There was a great deal of downright knavery in business, but there was another class who satisfied their consciences by being as honest as they could. The thoughtful ones knew the system was wrong but felt themselves utterly unable to replace it by a better one, and feeling no responsibility for it, they were satisfied to smother their sensibilities and drift along. They had their living to make, and, though they were not making it in an ideal way, they did not know that any other kind of work would be more satisfactory to their uneasy consciences."

"Excuse me, Thorwald," I said; "I am dull. What was there wrong in their manner of doing business?"

"Can you see nothing wrong," he answered, "in a system where one man's fortune was built on the ruins of another's, or perhaps a score of others, or where a business was started and increased solely by drawing from another one already established?"

"Why," said I, "that is competition, which they no doubt thought better than monopoly. I can imagine that they argued that a man's first duty was to himself and his family, that one had a right to go into any legitimate business, and that others must take care of themselves. The evil, if there was any, they probably felt was incident to the nature of business and could not be helped. I would like to ask how society could exist with any other business rules."

As I closed it struck me that I had spoken pretty fast and without much discretion, and the impression was not removed as Thorwald answered with dignity:

"I am telling you the state of things on this planet thousands of years ago, and it is a sufficient answer to your question to say that society at the present day is not governed on any such principles; still, we seem to exist. It was a favorite saying in those days that 'a man must live,' and one that was used as an argument or excuse for questionable practices. The premise was wrong; it was not necessary to live: death would have been far better for the world and for the individual than a dishonorable life. So with society at large; better a change in the social structure, caused by an awakened conscience, than a state of peace founded on wrong principles. Our history proves that no particular plan of society is necessary to the world and that no order based on selfishness or injustice can long endure. But do not imagine such changes were easy or swift in accomplishment. They came, not by violence nor by the device of crafty men, but only through the universal betterment of the race, whereby a state of things that had been considered good enough, and then endured as the best attainable, became at last positively wrong and was slowly pushed aside by a growing sense of right.

"To return to your first question, as to what there was wrong in their way of doing business, I want to say with emphasis that the essence of the wrong was in an undue regard for self and an almost total disregard for the interests of others. There were exceptions to the rule, notably in the direction of charity and philanthropy and in religious work, but I am speaking of the mass of the business community. It was every man singly against all the rest of the world. No man was his brother's keeper. If one did not look out for himself, that was the end of it; there was no one else to do it."

"But the system itself made men selfish," I ventured to say.

"To be sure it did," he replied. "But why did they not then abolish the system before it had brought upon them its long train of evils? It had to go at last."

"But," I asked again, "was not competition a good thing for the large number of people not directly engaged in business? Did it not keep down the prices on all kinds of commodities?"

"Certainly not in the main. It increased prices, because it increased the cost of everything. But let us suppose a case where it had the effect you suggest. Could a man with a heart wear a coat, for example, with any pleasure, if he knew that rivalry between the manufacturers had forced the people who made the garment to accept starvation wages? And this was done, not from humanitarian motives, to furnish the poor with cheap clothing, but for the purpose of getting more business and so of making more money."

I could hardly resist the temptation at this point of asking Thorwald if he had not been reading up on the current history of the earth, but I knew well enough that was not possible, for we had brought no books with us. And then I did not care to tell Thorwald just yet how near he was coming to our experience. But I could not endure having the props knocked from under our social structure without another effort to save it. So I said:

"But were not the great majority of business men honest, and were not these instances that you have cited extreme cases?"

"They were the natural results of a bad system. A great many men were as honest as their environment would permit, and they tried to convince themselves that they were not responsible for the environment."

"Were they?" I asked eagerly.

"When they at last discovered that they were, then began a radical change. I am not exaggerating the evils of the times. I am merely setting them forth to show you how our race has improved with its maturity. If my purpose required it, I could detail many good things in the life of that people. One bright point in their character, to which I just now referred, I will illustrate. My boy, who is also my student in drawing, will never be able to make a straight line until he can see that the line he has already made is not straight. His improvement depends upon more than a steady hand. So with this people. Deep down in their being, planted by a divine hand, were the instinct of truth and the principle of growth, and when, in the natural course of their development, they came to realize how unworthy they were of their better nature, they set about the work of improvement.

"But they came to that knowledge through many sad experiences. I have not begun to tell you the number and extent of the evils they endured.

"The desire for money affected all classes. The general prosperity had bettered the condition of the wage-earners, creating many artificial wants which could not be satisfied without good pay. Hence arose a natural and constant effort to obtain higher wages, while competition among the employers operated just as constantly to keep them down, and the result was a sharp and increasing antagonism between capital and labor. The general public shared in the blame for this state of things by reason of the almost universal demand for cheap goods.

"While the introduction of machinery was a real advance, whose benefits we are reaping to this day, other conditions had not become adjusted to it at the time of which we are speaking, so that there was often a surplus of workmen, especially in the lower grades of labor. This had a tendency to reduce wages, of course; and the want of employment, improvidence in the use of small wages, intemperance and other immoralities, ignorance and misfortune, all combined to keep part of the people in poverty. On the other hand, it was a time of great wealth and luxurious living, and these two classes, so far apart in their manner of life but often so near each other in all their selfish aims, seemed to have a strong mutual attraction, for they were always found together, crowding upon each other in every large city.

"One of the most difficult things for us of the present day to imagine is, how persons of refinement and sensibility, living in comfort and without a care, could take any pleasure in life when they knew that within a stone's throw of their doors were human beings who, very often through no fault of their own, were so destitute that a crust would relieve their want, or so friendless that a kind word would make them shed tears of joy. Oh! I cannot comprehend it, and yet the record tells us there were cases of just that nature, where such people, without lifting a finger to alleviate the distress, actually laughed and were happy. Happy! What could they know of happiness? The word must have changed its meaning wonderfully, if we think of what it signifies to-day."



CHAPTER XXIX.

THE INDUSTRIAL PROBLEM.

Thorwald continued as follows:

"The unpleasant relations existing between the employers and the employees created a host of troubles. It was an unreasonable feeling, because the interests of the two classes were identical. But as capital was consolidated and great corporations were formed for extensive operations in transportation and manufacturing, the relation between the two became very impersonal and difficult to control. In order to protect their interests the wage-earners organized into unions, brotherhoods, etc., almost every trade and calling having its own organization.

"When these associations were first formed much stress was laid upon their incidental benefits, such as assistance in time of sickness, care of the families of deceased members, the holding of meetings for discussion and mutual improvement, and the establishment of reading-rooms and libraries. These commendable objects would have been a sufficient excuse for the existence of these bodies, and other legitimate ends might have been sought, but the labor unions did not stop there. They instituted and set in motion the powerful machinery of the strike, as it was called, making it effective by binding their members, under severe penalties, to stop work when they were ordered to do so by their leaders. They also practiced the severest measures of intimidation upon non-union men, to prevent them from getting employment.

"Thus the trades-unions, too often governed by incompetent men, became a mighty power for evil. Strikes and lockouts were common, and were followed by loss of wages and consequent suffering, while the bitterness of feeling between the two classes constantly increased. To meet the rising power of the labor organizations, the employers felt obliged to form combinations among themselves and sometimes also to employ bodies of armed men to protect their property. Then, when a strike came, conflicts would follow so serious that appeal had to be made to the last resort, the military arm of the nation. Here another evil threatened, for the individual soldiers would sometimes prove to be in deep sympathy with the workmen who were making the trouble. At such crises, also, there would appear on the scene the anarchist, who wanted to overthrow society at once in the hope of bringing himself out nearer the top, and who was kept comparatively harmless in quiet times.

"You can imagine something of the disorder and apprehension caused by these troubles. No contract for work could be made without the stipulation that its fulfillment must depend upon freedom from strikes in that particular trade, and no man could start on a journey with any certainty that he would be allowed to finish it in peace and at the appointed time.

"To decide how these evils should be remedied proved to be one of the greatest problems ever presented to the people of that age.

"Political sages had long before promulgated the doctrine upon which society was governed, that every man had a natural right to life, liberty, and his own method of pursuing happiness. Now, both sides in the conflict claimed to be following closely the spirit of this fundamental doctrine. The workingmen declared that they had a perfect right to organize and to induce all their number to join the unions. They said the individual relation between them and the employers had had its day and that experience was proving to them that every concession and privilege they hoped to get must come through their associations, working through the medium of an agent or committee. As independent citizens they could not obey laws and regulations in the making of which they had no voice, and their love of personal liberty would not allow them to accept the wages and hours of service which their employers might, without asking their consent, choose to prescribe. In case of disagreement they asserted their right to stop the whole business, at whatever loss to the employers or inconvenience to the public, and to prevent, if possible, new men from taking their places.

"On the other hand, the employers, while not denying to the workmen the right to form associations for legitimate purposes, insisted that this right was being abused. They claimed that they should be allowed to hire whom they pleased and dismiss incompetent men when it was best for their business, without regard to their membership or non-membership in a union.

"As time went on the trouble increased and society was fast forming itself into classes with opposing aims and mutual dislike. The time had been when a workman, by skill and diligence, could rise above his station and become a large proprietor himself. But with the new order this was hardly possible, and civilization, in this respect, seemed to be retrogressing.

"You may wonder why the lawmakers did not correct the evil at once, but the fact was that the legislatures were made up of representatives from the two classes, and so were undecided as to what remedies to apply. It was proposed by some to enact a law preventing a man from selling himself into slavery, or, in other words, from giving up his liberty of action into the keeping of others, a thing which had caused much suffering. In every strike a large part of the men, earning small wages and with families dependent on these wages for their bread from one day to another, would be obliged to quit work against their will. It was thought, therefore, a fit subject of legislation to enjoin them from binding themselves to strike at the dictation of others, when it was against their judgment. It was suggested, also, to make the intimidation or coercion of non-union men a criminal act.

"When these measures were suggested the cry was raised that the workingmen were to be deprived of their liberty and made the slaves of capital. The labor parties in the legislatures were assisted by a class of politicians who were made cowards through fear of losing the workingmen's votes, and this gave these parties the power to defeat all measures of which they disapproved, and to pass laws in their own interest. They claimed that they should be protected as well as the manufacturer, and so they made it lawful for the government to inspect all industries and to see that the employees received an equitable share of the profits. This was radical action, but they went still further, and took away from every employer the right of discharging men for any cause without the consent of the union; and full power to fix the hours of service and the wages was put into the hands of the government inspectors and the representatives of the trades- unions. The wages were to be based on what the inspectors found to be the profits of the business, and the help or advice of the proprietors was not to be taken. As these astonishing rules governed even the farmer and shopkeeper as well as the manufacturer, you can imagine that there was not much satisfaction in trying to carry on any business.

"The laboring classes were beginning to discover that they were a large majority of the community and that there was a mighty power in the ballot. Their opponents, on the other hand, having lost the control in politics through universal suffrage, now bent their energies still more to the work of combining large interests under one management, hoping to wield in this way a power too formidable to be withstood. Immense trusts were formed in almost every branch of business, and the syndicate gradually took the place of the firm and individual corporation.

"A long time previous to the period of which we are speaking, the people had put part of their business into the hands of the government, with the idea that it would be done with more promptness and also with more economy. A good example of this was seen in the excellent mail service, which the national government conducted much more satisfactorily than it could have been done by private enterprise.

"The local governments, also, had full control of the highways and bridges and the common schools, hospitals, etc., while in large communities, at great expense, they stored and distributed water for domestic and other purposes. As the people had received undoubted benefits from this state of things, there were few to object to it, and even their objection was more for theoretical than practical reasons. It is not strange, therefore, that as the troublous times approached these functions of the state should be multiplied. Besides the gain in convenience and in cost that thus came to the people, they began to rely on the strong arm of the government for protection from the uncertainties and interruptions incident to private control of many kinds of business.

"As the telegraph and telephone came into more general use the government found it necessary to add their facilities to the mail service, in order to give the people the best means of communication. From this point the step was soon taken of assuming control of all the telegraph and telephone lines, in the interest of lower prices and better service. This was attended with such good results that it was thought wise to extend the conveniences of the mail in another direction; and instead of carrying a few small parcels the government took into its hands the entire express business, and it was not long before everybody conceded it to be a good move.

"At the same time, the municipal governments began to exhibit the same paternal character. They first took control of the lighting and heating facilities, and this led in a short time to their furnishing the people with fuel, which was generally brought from a distance, and which, in private hands, always had a way of going up in price at just the time when the poor people were obliged to buy it. For the sake of economy, also, the cities took possession of all street cars, cabs, and omnibuses.

"Affairs had reached this condition when the labor troubles became so serious, and this absorption of private business by the government was so recent and was in general so satisfactory, that men could but think of it in connection with their efforts to solve the industrial problems. The time had now come when some radical measures must be adopted to preserve and extend civilization. The labor party were abusing their power still more in making bad laws, and strikes became more frequent, and were followed by rioting and bloodshed. At length the interruptions to business occasioned by the irregularities in traveling became unbearable. The public demanded better service, but the railroad companies were powerless to render it, being in the hands of the employees, who at the slightest grievance would stop every wheel till the dispute was settled. The trouble generally started with one road and spread to the others by sympathy, and the result was just as disastrous to business whether the men gained their end or not.

"There had always been a party, although at times pretty feeble, in favor of government control of the entire transportation business. This party now argued that that was the only thing that would cure these evils, and they gained thereby many new adherents. When it was considered that government ownership of the telegraph was working well in spite of many adverse prophecies, the people began to entertain the idea that it would perhaps be best to try the experiment with the railroads, especially as it gave some promise of relief from the strikes. To be sure, it would add to the government service immense numbers of men, and increase a danger that had always been threatening, that of making too large a list of civil officers to be managed without great corruption.

"But now it was not long before a large majority of the people asked to have the trial made, and soon all railroads, canals, and steamboats were in the hands of the general government. The employees were formed into an army, with officers of all grades, and put under strict military discipline. At the least show of insubordination a man was discharged, never to be reemployed, and although this caused some hardship in individual cases at first, it put an effectual stop to the strikes and kept business moving. The best of the workmen had been among the strongest advocates of national ownership, and as the movement gained in favor no class were so satisfied with the change as the employees themselves. Work was steady, wages were regular, faithfulness and length of service were rewarded, and the aged and feeble were retired on pensions.

"In this way peace had come in one department of labor, but war still raged among the manufacturers and in the building and other trades. The workingmen literally held the reins in society, but did not know enough to drive away from the rocks. Instead of taking advantage of shorter hours and higher wages to improve their minds and prepare themselves for a better condition, they were too apt to waste their energies in denouncing the capitalists and in trying to force still greater concessions from their unwilling employers. They would loudly demand that every ancient wrong endured by them should be redressed, and then, to show their idea of right, they would compel a builder, in the middle of a contract, where time was more precious than money, to give them higher wages than had been agreed on; or they would boycott to bankruptcy a small shopkeeper who innocently bought goods that happened to be made by non-union workmen.

"But do not imagine that the wrong was all on one side. There were employers who were unjust and cruel when they had the power, unreasonable in argument, and boorish and exasperating in their manners. Many seemed to think they were a different class of beings because they had more money than their workmen, and they resented the idea of the latter rising above the station in which they were born. They raised wages only when forced to do so, and considered any amount of profit made out of their men perfectly legitimate. When want came they would give in charity to the unfortunate ones that which really belonged to them by right. These disagreeable qualities were not possessed alone by such as were employers. There was a class of rich people not engaged in business, and although they had the greatest interest in the perpetuity of society as it was, many of them considered themselves as members of a superior caste, and looked down with disdain upon the majority of mankind, and the real masters of the situation, who had to work for their daily bread.

"It was against this class especially that anarchy was forging its thunderbolt. The freedom of the press and freedom of speech gave the socialist and anarchist the opportunity to promulgate their seditious doctrines, and they looked to the ignorant and depraved portions of the community for adherents. By the successful risings of the people against despotic power the word 'revolution' had gained a certain nobility of sound and meaning, and now these incendiaries employed it to mislead the credulous. They promised an overturning by which all property and money should become a common fund and be redistributed on a more equitable basis, and it is perhaps not to be wondered at that some poor, ignorant ones, seeing the vast inequalities in life, should be carried away with their arguments. The vision of a society where all should share alike and live on the same scale of comfort was intoxicating. But the scheme of the anarchist was not based on love and a desire to promote true brotherhood. Judging from the violent means proposed to bring about the change, it seemed rather to be based on hate. In preaching their doctrine of personal license they were stealing the livery of freedom in which to serve their selfish lusts.

"While the vicious and ignorant thus threatened society on the one hand, the accumulation of enormous wealth by a few fortunate, or unfortunate, men was thought by some to be a menace equally serious. It was argued that this could not go on without making the poor poorer and more numerous, and thus emphasizing and perpetuating the separation of the two classes.

"I need not point out to you a fact that you must realize, namely, that the spring of action with too many men, the one cause of the troubles that really threatened the foundations of society, was selfishness. Can you imagine any danger from all these movements if men could have suddenly become unselfish, really unselfish?

"I hope I have not given you the idea that all the world of people had lost their heads. As in the history of nations of that period war seems to have been the principal occupation, so in the social life of the people the evils and dangers are most prominently seen. But all this time there was a large party of men and women who were alive to the perils of the hour, and intent on seeking the best means to overcome them. This party was made up of many representatives of every class, rich and poor, workingmen and employers, and included the great mass of the intelligent and thoughtful members of society.

"The general and local governments were carrying on, with marked success and without friction, certain kinds of business, while in many other departments there were disorder and possible ruin. Time brought no healing power; the troubles increased and were now truly gigantic. Where should help be found?"

As Thorwald paused here, the doctor, who, I thought, had been wanting to speak for some time, took occasion to say:

"Don't tell us, Thorwald, that this people turned over all their business, both industrial and professional, to the government, and made machines of themselves. I am becoming exceedingly interested in them and hope they found some better release from their woes. I am sure there are a number of methods of relief which they might have tried."

"I am glad you have spoken, Doctor," answered Thorwald, "or I might have talked you to death. We must really break off now and get out of doors."

Mona listened to different portions of the foregoing conversation. It was dull amusement for her, as we could see by her actions, and we wondered at first why she showed so little interest in it. She did not seem to realize the full significance of her unique position in our circle. As the last representative of the race of moon men, she had now the opportunity of learning something of the history of two sister worlds, and one would suppose that she would have been eager to hear every word we said. She had expressed herself more than once as anxious to know all any of us could tell her, nor did she hesitate to ask questions continually—and intelligent questions, too. But she was sympathetic only in certain directions, having a laudable curiosity to hear about any of the pleasant phases of society, either on the earth or on Mars. But when Thorwald talked of the former troubles experienced by his race, or when we compared these with the miseries of our own times on the earth, Mona became an indifferent listener.

She was sitting with us when Thorwald proposed the out-door exercise, and so we all went out together. As we walked, Thorwald said:

"Mona, I fear you have not been enjoying my tedious talk this morning. You would be better pleased, I am sure, with some other topic."

In her sweet accents, so charming to every ear, Mona responded:

"I hope my lack of attention did not give you offense, Thorwald, but I do not understand the things you have talked about to-day."

"Not understand? Why, I know from former conversations with you that such things are not beyond your comprehension."

"Thank you," said Mona, "but I think they are, for I never before heard anything like the ideas you have advanced."

"We shall all be glad to learn, then, how these questions were answered and these wrongs righted by your ancestors."

"They never had any such perplexities," responded Mona.

"Which means, I presume," said Thorwald, "that the race became so far advanced before your time that the records and traditions of their early struggles were all forgotten."

"Oh, no," she sang out, "that's not it. What had they to struggle over?"

"Was it then so easy for them to be just?" asked Thorwald.

"Certainly, and I have been exceedingly surprised to learn by your long talk that there is such a thing as injustice."

We were all becoming thoroughly interested, but left it for Thorwald to continue his questions.

"Mona," said he, "do you mean that your people, even in the remote past, were entirely ignorant of such troubles as we have been speaking about?"

"Yes, and of all other troubles. I am sure there was always only peace and happiness on the moon. Strife and hatred, sorrow, want, and misery are all strange words to me, and entirely unknown except as I have heard them in your conversation."

"Was there never any sickness there?" I asked.

"I don't know the meaning of the word," she replied. "Is it another item in the general unpleasantness of the times you have been describing? I wonder that your race, Thorwald, ever survived those rude days."

"But," asked Thorwald, "what think you of the earth? The doctor and his companion say their planet is now passing through just such a period."

"Well, all I can say is that I am thankful I was not discovered till after the moon had deserted the earth."

"Tell us more about your race," said the doctor. "Were they all as good as you are?"

"Just the same. There were no degrees in goodness."

"And did they all sing as they talked, and in such sweet tones as yours?" I asked.

"Oh, many sang better than I do, and all made music of their words. I never heard speech that was not melodious till you and the doctor came to see me."

"And did everything else in your life there correspond to your charming manner of talking?" asked Thorwald.

"Why, yes, I think so," answered Mona. "It was a delightful world. Everything was bright and joyous, with no shadow of discontent nor anything to cause sadness or discomfort. Do you wonder that I could not sympathize with your story of wrongs and sorrows, the very nature of which was a new revelation to me?"

Mona's notions about the people whom she represented seemed strange and improbable to us, and we attributed them to the influence of her own guileless nature. One so innocent and whole-hearted as she was would naturally clothe her ancestors with at least the virtues and graces she herself possessed. However, we had no means of proving Mona's ideas to be false. We had brought away from the moon no records of any kind by which to study its history, and of that history Mona was as yet our only interpreter. But every word she spoke on this subject only added intensity to the pleasurable anticipation with which these Martians looked forward to their study of the moon and its former inhabitants.



CHAPTER XXX.

ATTEMPTS TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM.

It was not till the next day that we sat down together again to continue the conversation. Remembering what the doctor had said, Thorwald began:

"In sketching for you the history of that age of activity and change in our career, I was in such fear of wearying you with dry details that I hurried along and omitted the very things to which you refer, Doctor. This people did try all the experiments that suggested themselves, and if you think your patience will endure it I will speak of a few of them."

We both assured him that we would gladly listen, and that we considered ourselves fortunate in having such an instructor. He was merely telling us about a certain period in the history of Mars, but if he had known how nearly he had been coming to the course of events on the earth he would not have wondered that we were so eager to hear all he had to say.

"Quite early in the labor difficulties," he resumed, "state arbitration had its day; a short one, however, for the appointment of the arbitrators soon became a matter of partisan politics, and their influence was gone. Whichever side was in power could appoint a board that would be prejudiced in favor of that side from the start, and when the trouble came the other party would not have confidence enough in their judgment to accept their decision.

"Next, laws were passed making arbitration compulsory, but allowing the arbitrators to be chosen at the time of the strike, the employer to name one, the workmen one, and these two to find the third. This did some good as long as only first class men were selected, but a few flagrant cases occurred where the arbitrators, who were allowed to inspect the books of the concern, made public the private affairs of the business, to the great injury of the owners. This brought the law into disfavor, and, as there was no provision for enforcing the decisions, it came to pass that they were often disregarded, and so, before long, this plan of settling disputes was also abandoned.

"For a good many years no other subject so completely filled the public mind as this very troublesome one, and people of all professions were continually suggesting remedies. It was held by many to be a good working theory that the employees in every business, whether industrial, mercantile, or financial, were entitled to some share in the profits over and above their compensation in wages. This was disputed by the large majority of the employers, who claimed that their contract with the workmen was a simple one, by which they agreed to work so many hours for so much pay, and as this was their due even if the business proved a losing one, so they had no just claim to anything more if it were successful the employees had nothing to do or say about the question of profits. On the other hand, where a number of men had, by long and faithful service, a strict regard for the welfare of the business, and loyalty to all of the employer's interests, helped to build up a great industry, an increasing number of people, not only the wage earners but many others not directly interested, felt that the workmen had fairly gained, if not a share in the proprietorship, at least some consideration from the owners. This feeling was especially strong in cases where the laws of the land had materially aided the success of the business, and where the profits were unusually large.

"I want to say, in passing, that it is by such indications as the existence of this sentiment that we can see, all through those troublous times, the gradual improvement of the race.

"As some of the employers came to be impressed with the same thought, they began in a quiet way trying the experiment of giving their men a bonus at the end of the year, proportioned to the amount of wages they earned. In some cases this gave place after a time to the plan of making the workmen regular partners, and giving them a certain percentage of the profits in lieu of wages. But when a time of general depression came and the percentage did not amount to as much as their old pay had been, the men felt as though they had been led into a trap, and after they had endured the situation for a time they were glad to return to the former system.

"Another scheme that was extensively tried was cooperation among the workingmen, both in manufacturing and mercantile business. The argument, which was a plausible one, was that the expense of big salaries for management, together with the enormous profits, would all be available for dividends. The results showed that in the long run the profits, in all but exceptional cases, were not more than a fair interest on the investment, and as to the salaries, it was found that financial and business ability was scarce and costly, and yet necessary to success. The associations of workingmen were willing to put their money into buildings, machinery, and stock, and the men were ready to work hard themselves, but they were not willing to pay for skill in management, and so their failure was inevitable. At the same time they still held to the opinion, which was at the bottom of these experiments, that under the old system the owners and managers of the business got too much of the profits and the operatives too little. Is there anything else, Doctor, that you think these people might have tried?"

"I am not satisfied," the doctor answered, "with their efforts at profit- sharing. It seems to me that that scheme, under proper management, ought to have brought the two classes together by giving them a common interest in every enterprise, and so to have gradually done away with all bitterness and strife. Employers might have used a part of their surplus profits in building better houses for their men, in giving them instruction as to a nobler way of living, in opening libraries and bath- houses and cooking schools and savings banks, in keeping them insured against sickness and death, and in doing a thousand things to show the men that they were thoughtful of their comfort and welfare. If the workmen could discover by such means that the employers were really their friends, I think it must have disarmed their hatred and antagonism. Then if, with these benefits, they could have received in money a small percentage above their usual wages, they would certainly have repaid such friendliness by a service so faithful and an industry so constant as to more than make up, in increased profits, for all the philanthropic expenditures."

"Doctor," said Thorwald, "I am pleased to see you take such an interest in this subject. You talk as though you had thought of it before, and you have outlined almost the exact course pursued by the people of whom we are speaking. Hundreds of such experiments were tried and persisted in for a long time, both before the serious labor troubles began and after. Among their strongest advocates were men of theory in the professions, who were actuated by high motives but did not appreciate the practical difficulties. They were pretty sure they could get along with the workingmen without so much friction. But the profit-sharing scheme also had the aid of many excellent men among the employers, as I have said. However, for one reason or another, the experiments all came to naught. In some cases great expense was entered into to provide comforts for the workmen, and after a few prosperous years depression followed and the proprietors found they had undertaken too much. Several large failures, brought about by such lack of judgment, helped to produce disappointment and discouragement. Then it was found by experience that the evil-disposed among the workmen were not to be converted into honest, industrious, and faithful employees in any such wholesale manner. Making men over could not be done in the block. There never had been any difficulty in dealing with the sober, reasonable, well-intentioned men. The trouble had all come from the vicious, the incompetent, and the shiftless ones. And the more privileges this class obtained, the more they demanded. If their working day was made shorter in order to give them the opportunity of taking advantage of the free facilities for improving their minds, they loudly demanded another hour each day and frequent holidays, with the liberty of spending their leisure time as best suited their tastes. If they were given a share of the profits, they complained because it was so small a share, and thought they were being cheated when the proprietors would not let them inspect the books to see if the profits were not larger than represented. Then as partners they claimed the right to be consulted in the management of the business. Such demands brought on disputes, of course; and the natural result was that strikes were not unknown even in these humanitarian establishments. As the labor organizations were then in full blast the better class of men were drawn into the strikes, which sometimes became so serious that the owners were compelled to give up their philanthropic efforts and go back to the old system of giving what they were obliged to and getting what they could in return.

"In general, employers found they had still an unanswered problem on their hands. An undue spirit of independence had been fostered among a class of uneducated, ill-natured, and thick-headed workmen, and society was rocked to its foundation in the effort to keep them within bounds."

"Will you let me make another suggestion, Thorwald?" asked the doctor. "Why did not all classes approach this difficulty in a businesslike way and work together to remove it? Why did not the state see that the right of private contract was a safe and useful one for all sides, and cease to infringe on it by law? Why did not the public teachers make a combined and continued effort to instill a conciliatory spirit into both sides, and to show how peace and brotherly feeling would be a mutual blessing? Why did not the employers—not one here and there, but all of them—treat their men as they would like to be treated in their place, make friends with them, talk reason even to unreasonable men, speak kindly to the unfriendly ones, urge the value of sobriety upon the intemperate, teach the incompetent, sympathize with the unfortunate, try to reclaim the vicious instead of turning them off harshly, and in every way strive to prove themselves to the men as beings of the same flesh and blood with them? And why did not the workingmen receive what was done for them with the right spirit—give up their envious and suspicious feelings, improve every precious chance of getting knowledge, work for their employers as they would for themselves, cease to use the power of the unions unjustly, cultivate amicable relations with everybody, and try in all possible ways to make true men of themselves? If the men had worked along this line they would have found they were bettering themselves in every way faster than they could by strikes and conflicts."

"Ah! Doctor," replied Thorwald, "you have now the true solution. Such action would have annihilated the difficulties in a day. But to suppose every employer and every workman capable of following such good advice is to suppose that the world had then reached an almost ideal condition. The very existence and character of the troubles show how imperfect men were. It was a common saying then that human nature was the same as it had been in the earliest days and that it would never change while the world should stand. This was a mistaken view, for there had been a great change. The heart had lost much of its selfishness and had begun to grasp in some slight measure a sense of that distant but high destiny to which it had been called."

"If the world," said the doctor, "was not good enough for these troubles to be cured by kindness, I am anxious to know how they were healed. I am sure you can tell us, for those people were your remote ancestors and you are far removed from such vexations now."

"That is true," said Thorwald. "I can tell you how this social problem was solved, and how our race has found release from the many dangers that have threatened us. It has not been by man's device or invention. But God, whose arm alone has been our defense, has always called men to his aid, and thus, in his own time and way, help has come in every crisis. The most important changes in society have been brought about gradually and without violence, and with that hint I think we had better leave this subject for the present. Some day I want to go over with you briefly the history of the work and influence of the gospel of Jesus in the world, and it will then be fitting to refer again to the period of which we have just now been speaking.

"I am sure you will find it a great relief for me to change the subject, or stop talking."

"We will not object to your changing the subject," said I, "whenever you think it best, but we shall try to keep you talking till we know a great deal more about Mars than we do now."



CHAPTER XXXI.

WINE-DRINKING IN MARS.

I went downstairs the next morning before the doctor was ready, and when I met Thorwald I said, without thought: "A fine morning."

"Yes," he replied, "all our mornings are fine. I do not mean that the sun is always shining or that we do not have clouds and a variety of sky effects, but we know the clouds can be depended on not to give rain till night."

"Do you not lose something by having a perpetual calm?" I asked. "For I understand the rain in the night comes only in gentle showers. In our rough world some of us enjoy the grandeur of the storm."

"How about those who are exposed to its fury?" asked Thorwald in reply. "I do not see how anyone can really enjoy what is sure to be bringing sorrow or even inconvenience to others. Could a mother take pleasure in a tempest if she knew her son was in danger of shipwreck from it? Why should it change her feeling to know her son was by her side and that it was only strangers that were in danger?"

"But," continued Thorwald, "are you and your friend ready for an excursion to-day? If you are, I propose to give you a new experience."

"We shall be delighted to accompany you, and as I see breakfast is ready I will go up and tell the doctor to hurry."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," exclaimed Thorwald. "You must try to learn to live as we do, and you will remember I said the other day that we are never in haste. If, for example, it were Zenith who was late, I should never think of calling to her to hurry, for I should know she must have a good excuse for staying. Her liberty of action is as valuable to her as mine to me, and however long she might keep me waiting, I should feel sure that her action was the result of right motives and correct reasoning. If the doctor does not appear, we can easily postpone our excursion to to-morrow. There would be no lack of occupation for to-day."

"What a delightful feeling it must be," I said, "to be always free from hurry. It is the commonest experience in our imperfect state for one to start a few minutes late in the morning, and then be on a constant jump all day to make them up. One of the evils of our driving age is the wear and tear of our nerves in what we consider a necessary haste to get there."

"Get where?" asked Thorwald.

"To get anywhere or to do anything that we set out to accomplish," I answered.

"I fear," said Thorwald, "that I have talked too much about Mars and not insisted enough on hearing about the earth. Suppose something should happen to break off your visit?"

"You wouldn't miss much, Thorwald."

"We certainly should regret exceedingly not learning many things that you could tell us," he said.

"Yes," I answered, "but you cannot profit by our experiences, while we of the earth are in a condition where we need all the help and advice you have for us. If we ever return to our home we want to tell all about your advanced civilization and how you have overcome the evils that vex our race. But I wonder why the doctor doesn't come. I think I will go and see, but I promise not to interfere with his liberty of action." I soon returned with my friend, and we all went to breakfast. The doctor said he would not eat much, as he felt somewhat indisposed. Here was something new in the life of this household, and each one began to express sympathy and ask what could be done. The doctor was amused, and I said I thought a good, hearty breakfast would make him all right. But Thorwald insisted that something unusual should be done, although his inexperience was so great that nothing feasible suggested itself at first. Zenith was in favor of all repairing to the library, hunting up the histories of the days when people were ill, and finding out the proper remedy for his ailment. This would have been a logical proceeding, but I thought to myself that they did not understand the value of time in such cases and that the doctor would probably either recover or die while they were at work.

As I did not appear to be any more alarmed than my companion was, the excitement soon subsided. But Thorwald was not satisfied yet, and after some further thought his face brightened and he asked me if a glass of good wine would not be the thing for the doctor. When I replied that it would probably not hurt him, Thorwald told his son to go and bring up a bottle of the oldest wine in the cellar, and soon not only the patient but the members of the family and myself were all partaking. No more was heard after this of the doctor's indisposition, and Thorwald no doubt felicitated himself that he had effected a cure. The situation was rather suggestive to me, and while we were drinking, and eating our breakfast, I could not refrain from saying:

"If some of our friends on the earth could see us now, Thorwald, we would be discredited in all that we might say about your higher condition. It would do no good to expatiate on your ripe character and on your attainments in knowledge and virtue. I fear they would not believe much of it if they knew that you not only drank wine yourselves, but encouraged its use by giving it to your guests."

"Why," said Thorwald, "you could tell them the wine was brought out to be used as a medicine, and that the rest of us drank to keep the doctor company. But when you see your friends you had better tell them the truth at once, that while we all take wine here frequently this is the only instance where I have ever known it to be used medicinally."

"They would tell us," said the doctor, "that you have made one mistake at least, and that it is a dangerous thing to have wine in the house, and especially to give it to children."

"He would have a very gross and imperfect conception of our character," said Thorwald, "who should have the thoughts which you express. I can judge something of the nature of the feeling which you say exists on the earth, however, for only a few days ago I was reading a full account of the different temperance movements on our planet. Few subjects in our history are more interesting. Do not despise the temperance reformers, and if you think they are sometimes too radical you can afford to excuse that for the sake of the absolute good they accomplish. All through the early part of our career there was a perpetual warfare against the drinking habit. At first wine was an ordinary article of food, and in some countries more commonly used for drinking than water. There was much abuse of it, but in general people used it as a matter of course, without thinking they were any more responsible for the drunkards than they were for the intemperate in eating. But the evil of overdrinking increased, and some religious reformers found that the easiest way to check it was to forbid all use of intoxicants. Here is an extreme example that I have read of what one such reformer taught: 'If a single drop of alcoholic liquor should fall into a well one hundred and fifty feet deep, and if the well should afterwards be filled up and grass grow over it, and a sheep should eat of the grass, then my followers must not partake of that mutton.' Could any of your prohibitionists be more radical than that?

"In later times many kinds of strong and poisonous drinks were made, and untold harm was done by their use. Drunkenness was the most fruitful source of crime and misery; it, more than any other cause, filled the jails, the almshouses and the insane asylums; it kept men in poverty and squalor; it scattered families and changed men, and sometimes women, too, into beasts. No class or profession was free from the evil, for it disqualified the scholar and statesman for their duties just as it unfitted the laborer for his daily task. It helped to debauch politics and public morals, while it brought disgrace and ruin to private reputation and character. More money was lost by it than was spent to educate and Christianize the world, and it cost more precious lives than war and pestilence combined. Being a crime utterly selfish and debasing, as well as extremely tenacious of its hold upon the individual life, it was almost the greatest enemy to the spread of the gospel.

"Was there anything in the way of good to be said of the drinking habit to offset all this harm? Men drank to be sociable and companionable and to please their friends, and when the habit was fastened on them found they had lost every friend of value. They took to their cups to drown their sorrow, and found a sorrow more poignant among the dregs. They began the moderate use of stimulants to give strength to the body or activity to the brain, and discovered when too late that their abuse had brought down in common ruin both body and mind. No, it is impossible that anyone should ever attempt to make an argument in favor of drunkenness.

"The more active the age the more prevalent was this evil, but the greater, also, was the determination to overthrow it. When the conscience was quickened by the growth of Christianity and men's lives became more valued, many persistent efforts were made to stamp out the crime of intoxication.

"Numerous societies were organized and good men and women entered heartily into the work. Every argument was used to show the danger of the drink habit and to teach the beauty and value of sobriety, appeal being made both to the reason and the conscience. The power of the state was invoked and punishment administered to the drunkards, while the manufacture and sale of intoxicants were restricted and sometimes prohibited. We see how firm a hold this evil had on all classes when we read that very often public sentiment would not permit these beneficent laws to be enforced. In all great reforms the apathy of a large part of the people has been a most discouraging feature.

"Of course it was never intrinsically wrong to drink a glass of wine, but in view of the enormous amount of sorrow and trouble caused by overdrinking, can it be wondered at that many earnest souls came to abhor everything in the nature of intoxicating drink, and to practice and insist on total abstinence? Oh, I can tell you if I lived on the earth now I should be a radical of the radicals on this subject."

"Notwithstanding which," said I, "here you are sitting at your own table and pouring into our glasses this delicious wine."

As a smile passed around at this remark it was Zenith who said:

"Do you see anything incongruous in that?"

I paused a moment to choose a reply, when the doctor spoke up with:

"Far be it from us, Zenith, with our earth-born ideas, to even seem to pass judgment in this happy place, but I presume my companion was trying to imagine what our temperance friends, who do not know you, would say."

"As for us," said Thorwald, "I trust we shall be justified in your eyes at least, before we are through, but let us inquire about those whom you call your temperance friends. I suppose they would have a poor opinion of a man who was loud in his public advocacy of temperance and yet drank wine at home."

"I think," I replied, "that I have heard some such term as 'hypocrite' applied to men of that class."

"And yet," continued Thorwald, "they would think it perfectly proper for a man to keep razors away from his children, but at the same time have one or more concealed about the house somewhere for his own use. It might very easily be argued that razors were dangerous things under any conditions; the children might find them by accident and do great harm to themselves or others; the man himself, though accustomed to their moderate use, might, in a moment of overconfidence, go too far and inflict a serious injury on himself or even a fatal one; and, further, it might be said that razors are of no real use to men, for nature knows best what is needed for protection, and if hair on the face was not necessary for the well-being of man it would not grow there. This argument could be pushed until, under an awakened public sentiment, the manufacture and sale of razors might be prohibited.

"I have said this to introduce a plea for tolerance of opinion. You were created, I have no doubt, as we were, with different temperaments and inclinations, which, with various kinds of education, produce different opinions. You cannot all have the same mind on any given subject, nor all approve of the same methods of reform, but you will make but little progress in true temperance until you can bury minor differences and all work together. You must learn that everything that has been made, whether produced by the direct hand of God or through the agency of man, has its proper use. Do you say that some people would express the wish that everything intoxicating could be destroyed from the earth, as having no proper use? All the evil in it will surely be removed, but the good will remain. At present it is one of the stubborn obstructions in your thorny path. If your way were to be suddenly made smooth and easy your race would never learn self-denial, the only road that leads to a higher state. Your present imperfect life is a daily conflict, and it is only by battles won and temptations overcome that you will ever be built up into virtuous and God-like characters.

"I said you must be tolerant. I can conceive that a man might feel perfectly safe in the use of wine and have no scruples of any kind against it, and yet be sincere in urging people in general to totally abstain from it on account of the harm some might receive. This man must not be denied a place in the temperance ranks. Another might think it a sin to touch a drop. One might believe the only right way to deal with the subject would be to prohibit the sale entirely, another would think more might be done by some other method of restriction. All that I have read of our experiences goes to prove that the people of the earth will never drive out this evil till all shades of temperance people get Christianity enough into their hearts to unite on a broad platform and work as one army with a single purpose."

"Will you not tell us," I asked, "how the reform was finally effected on Mars?"

"Like all other true reforms," replied Thorwald, "it came about through the sanctified commonsense of the church of God, not suddenly by any means, but gradually and only after many years of severe struggle. A combined effort of all good people, especially women, working with spiritual as well as moral weapons, produced an impression which was lasting. When men were taught from their childhood the dangers which accompany the drinking habit; when one class of people denied themselves all indulgence for the sake of the class who were weak; when drinking became a disgrace, and those who could not keep sober were taken in charge by the state and permanently separated from the rest of the community; when the church awoke to its full duty and the rich poured out their money; when men and women forgot fashion and pride and caste in their love for the practical work of Christianity; when the power of the gospel had strengthened men's will and had begun to plant in every heart a love for something purer than fleshly appetite; when the spiritual part of our nature began to gain the ascendency and to occupy the place for which it was made; then intemperance loosed its hold and soon disappeared, never to trouble us again.

"You see it was a long road with us and I have no doubt it will prove so on the earth, but do not on that account lose courage. And let me counsel both of you to join the ranks of the reformers when you get home.

"Although intemperate drinking has long been unknown among us, as well as all other gross imperfections of character, we still make good wine, and no more danger is felt in drinking it than in using milk. Everybody can have all he wants of it. Our tables may be supplied with the luxuries of every clime, but we have learned that it is best for us to be temperate in both eating and drinking. I am sorry your temperance friends, as you say, would not approve of us, but when you see them I trust you will do what you can to let them understand that such temptations as this of which we have been speaking belong to the childhood of a race, and that the people of Mars have long since passed out of infancy."



CHAPTER XXXII.

A GENUINE ACCIDENT.

Mona did not feel obliged to be present at our conversations after she had explained her position to us, but I saw her many times every day. I tried to respect her feeling and avoid the subject which still occupied so many of my thoughts. I fought against my passion, which I told myself was unmanly, since it was not returned in the good, old-fashioned way. What man of spirit would submit to the enchantment of one who, while professing she loved him with her whole heart, declared in the same breath that she also loved equally well half a dozen others? I tried to make up my mind to shake off the spell and be free. To this end I endeavored to examine my heart with the purpose of discovering if possible the secret of Mona's power over me.