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Across the Zodiac

by Percy Greg · English · Gutenberg #10165 · 957,399 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Across the Zodiac

Author: Percy Greg


        
Release date: November 1, 2003 [eBook #10165]
                Most recently updated: April 16, 2025

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE ZODIAC ***




ACROSS THE ZODIAC:
The Story of a Wrecked Record

DECIPHERED, TRANSLATED AND EDITED
BY
PERCY GREG

AUTHOR OF "THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE" ETC.


  "Thoughts he sends to each planet,
     Uranus, Venus, and Mars;
   Soars to the Centre to span it,
     Numbers the infinite Stars."

                _Courthope's Paradise of Birds_



CONTENTS

       I. SHIPWRECK.

      II. OUTWARD BOUND.

     III. THE UNTRAVELLED DEEP.

      IV. A NEW WORLD.

       V. LANGUAGE, LAWS, AND LIFE.

      VI. AN OFFICIAL VISIT.

     VII. ESCORT DUTY.

    VIII. A FAITH AND ITS FOUNDER.

      IX. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.

       X. WOMAN AND WEDLOCK.

      XI. A COUNTRY DRIVE.

     XII. ON THE RIVER.

    XIII. THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT.

     XIV. BY SEA.

      XV. FUR-HUNTING.

     XVI. TROUBLED WATERS.

    XVII. PRESENTED AT COURT.

   XVIII. A PRINCE'S PRESENT.

     XIX. A COMPLETE ESTABLISHMENT.

      XX. LIFE, SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC.

     XXI. PRIVATE AUDIENCES.

    XXII. PECULIAR INSTITUTIONS.

   XXIII. CHARACTERISTICS.

    XXIV. WINTER.

     XXV. APOSTACY.

    XXVI. TWILIGHT.

   XXVII. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.

  XXVIII. DARKER YET.

    XXIX. AZRAEL.

     XXX. FAREWELL.




VOL. I




CHAPTER I - SHIPWRECK.


Once only, in the occasional travelling of thirty years, did I lose
any important article of luggage; and that loss occurred, not under
the haphazard, devil-take-the-hindmost confusion of English, or the
elaborate misrule of Continental journeys, but through the absolute
perfection and democratic despotism of the American system. I had to
give up a visit to the scenery of Cooper's best Indian novels—no
slight sacrifice—and hasten at once to New York to repair the loss.
This incident brought me, on an evening near the middle of September
1874, on board a river steamboat starting from Albany, the capital of
the State, for the Empire City. The banks of the lower Hudson are as
well worth seeing as those of the Rhine itself, but even America has
not yet devised means of lighting them up at night, and consequently I
had no amusement but such as I could find in the conversation of my
fellow-travellers. With one of these, whose abstinence from personal
questions led me to take him for an Englishman, I spoke of my visit to
Niagara—the one wonder of the world that answers its warranty—and to
Montreal. As I spoke of the strong and general Canadian feeling of
loyalty to the English Crown and connection, a Yankee bystander
observed—

"Wal, stranger, I reckon we could take 'em if we wanted tu!"

"Yes," I replied, "if you think them worth the price. But if you do,
you rate them even more highly than they rate themselves; and English
colonists are not much behind the citizens of the model Republic in
honest self-esteem."

"Wal," he said, "how much du yew calc'late we shall hev to pay?"

"Not more, perhaps, than you can afford; only California, and every
Atlantic seaport from Portland to Galveston."

"Reckon yew may be about right, stranger," he said, falling back with
tolerable good-humour; and, to do them justice, the bystanders seemed
to think the retort no worse than the provocation deserved.

"I am sorry," said my friend, "you should have fallen in with so
unpleasant a specimen of the character your countrymen ascribe with
too much reason to Americans. I have been long in England, and never
met with such discourtesy from any one who recognised me as an
American."

After this our conversation became less reserved; and I found that I
was conversing with one of the most renowned officers of irregular
cavalry in the late Confederate service—a service which, in the
efficiency, brilliancy, and daring of that especial arm, has never
been surpassed since Maharbal's African Light Horse were recognised by
friends and foes as the finest corps in the small splendid army of
Hannibal.

Colonel A—— (the reader will learn why I give neither his name nor
real rank) spoke with some bitterness of the inquisitiveness which
rendered it impossible, he said, to trust an American with a secret,
and very difficult to keep one without lying. We were presently joined
by Major B——, who had been employed during the war in the conduct of
many critical communications, and had shown great ingenuity in
devising and unravelling ciphers. On this subject a somewhat
protracted discussion arose. I inclined to the doctrine of Poe, that
no cipher can be devised which cannot be detected by an experienced
hand; my friends indicated simple methods of defeating the processes
on which decipherers rely.

"Poe's theory," said the Major, "depends upon the frequent recurrence
of certain letters, syllables, and brief words in any given language;
for instance, of _e_'s and _t_'s, _tion_ and _ed_, _a_, _and_, and
_the_ in English. Now it is perfectly easy to introduce abbreviations
for each of the common short words and terminations, and equally easy
to baffle the decipherer's reliance thereon by inserting meaningless
symbols to separate the words; by employing two signs for a common
letter, or so arranging your cipher that no one shall without extreme
difficulty know which marks stand for single and which for several
combined letters, where one letter ends and another begins."

After some debate, Colonel A—— wrote down and handed me two lines in
a cipher whose character at once struck me as very remarkable.

"I grant," said I, "that these hieroglyphics might well puzzle a more
practised decipherer than myself. Still, I can point out even here a
clue which might help detection. There occur, even in these two lines,
three or four symbols which, from their size and complication, are
evidently abbreviations. Again, the distinct forms are very few, and
have obviously been made to serve for different letters by some slight
alterations devised upon a fixed rule. In a word, the cipher has been
constructed upon a general principle; and though it may take a long
time to find out what that principle is, it affords a clue which,
carefully followed out, will probably lead to detection."

"You have perceived," said Colonel A——, "a fact which it took me
very long to discover. I have not deciphered all the more difficult
passages of the manuscript from which I took this example; but I have
ascertained the meaning of all its simple characters, and your
inference is certainly correct."

Here he stopped abruptly, as if he thought he had said too much, and
the subject dropped.

We reached New York early in the morning and separated, having
arranged to visit that afternoon a celebrated "spiritual" medium who
was then giving _séances_ in the Empire City, and of whom my friend
had heard and repeated to me several more or less marvellous stories.
Our visit, however, was unsatisfactory; and as we came away Colonel
A—— said—

"Well, I suppose this experience confirms you in your disbelief?"

"No," said I. "My first visits have generally been failures, and I
have more than once been told that my own temperament is most
unfavourable to the success of a seance. Nevertheless, I have in some
cases witnessed marvels perfectly inexplicable by known natural laws;
and I have heard and read of others attested by evidence I certainly
cannot consider inferior to my own."

"Why," he said, "I thought from your conversation last night you were
a complete disbeliever."

"I believe," answered I, "in very little of what I have seen. But that
little is quite sufficient to dispose of the theory of pure imposture.
On the other hand, there is nothing spiritual and nothing very human
in the pranks played by or in the presence of the mediums. They remind
one more of the feats of traditionary goblins; mischievous, noisy,
untrustworthy; insensible to ridicule, apparently delighting to make
fools of men, and perfectly indifferent to having the tables turned
upon themselves."

"But do you believe in goblins?"

"No," I replied; "no more than in table-turning ghosts, and less than
in apparitions. I am not bound to find either sceptics or
spiritualists in plausible explanations. But when they insist on an
alternative to their respective theories, I suggest Puck as at least
equally credible with Satan, Shakespeare, or the parrot-cry of
imposture. It is the very extravagance of illogical temper to call on
me to furnish an explanation _because_ I say 'we know far too little
of the thing itself to guess at its causes;' but of the current
guesses, imposture seems inconsistent with the evidence, and
'spiritual agency' with the character of the phenomena."

"That," replied Colonel A——, "sounds common sense, and sounds even
more commonplace. And yet, no one seems really to draw a strong, clear
line between non-belief and disbelief. And you are the first and only
man I ever met who hesitates to affirm the impossibility of that which
seems to him wildly improbable, contrary at once to received opinion
and to his own experience, and contrary, moreover, to all known
natural laws, and all inferences hitherto drawn from them. Your men of
science dogmatise like divines, not only on things they have not seen,
but on things they refuse to see; and your divines are half of them
afraid of Satan, and the other half of science."

"The men of science have," I replied, "like every other class, their
especial bias, their peculiar professional temptation. The
anti-religious bigotry of Positivists is quite as bitter and
irrational as the theological bigotry of religious fanatics. At
present the two powers countervail and balance each other. But, as
three hundred years ago I should certainly have been burnt for a
heretic, so fifty or a hundred years hence, could I live so long, I
should be in equal apprehension of being burnt by some successor of
Mr. Congreve, Mr. Harrison, or Professor Huxley, for presuming to
believe in Providential government."

"The intolerance of incredulity," returned Colonel A——, "is a sore
subject with me. I once witnessed a phenomenon which was to me quite
as extraordinary as any of the 'spiritual' performances. I have at
this moment in my possession apparently irresistible evidence of the
reality of what then took place; and I am sure that there exists at a
point on the earth's surface, which unluckily I cannot define, strong
corroborative proof of my story. Nevertheless, the first persons who
heard it utterly ridiculed it, and were disposed to treat me either as
a madman, or at best as an audacious trespasser on that privilege of
lying which belonged to them as mariners. I told it afterwards to
three gentlemen of station, character, and intelligence, every one of
whom had known me as soldier, and I hope as gentleman, for years; and
in each case the result was a duel, which has silenced those who
imputed to me an unworthy and purposeless falsehood, but has left a
heavy burden on my conscience, and has prevented me ever since from
repeating what I know to be true and believe to be of greater
interest, and in some sense of greater importance, than any scientific
discovery of the last century. Since the last occasion on which I told
it seven years have elapsed, and I never have met any one but yourself
to whom I have thought it possible to disclose it."

"I have," I answered, "an intense interest in all occult phenomena;
believing in regard to alleged magic, as the scientists say of
practical science, that every one branch of such knowledge throws
light on others; and if there be nothing in your story which it is
personally painful to relate, you need not be silenced by any
apprehension of discourteous criticism on my part."

"I assure you," he said, "I have no such wish now to tell the story as
I had at first. It is now associated with the most painful incident of
my life, and I have lost altogether that natural desire for sympathy
and human interest in a matter deeply interesting to myself, which,
like every one else, I felt at first, and which is, I suppose, the
motive that prompts us all to relate often and early any occurrence
that has keenly affected us, in whatever manner. But I think that I
have no right to suppress so remarkable a fact, if by telling it I can
place it effectually on record for the benefit of men sensible enough
to believe that it may have occurred, especially since somewhere in
the world there must yet exist proof that it did occur. If you will
come to my rooms in —— Street tomorrow, Number 999, I will not
promise, but I think that I shall have made up my mind to tell you
what I have to tell, and to place in your hands that portion of the
evidence which is still at my command—evidence that has a
significance of its own, to which my experience is merely episodical."

I spent that evening with the family of a friend, one of several
former officers of the Confederacy, whose friendship is the one
permanent and valuable result of my American tour. I mentioned the
Colonel's name, and my friend, the head of the family, having served
with him through the Virginian campaigns, expressed the highest
confidence in his character, the highest opinion of his honour and
veracity; but spoke with bitter regret and pain of the duels in which
he had been engaged, especially of one which had been fatal; remarking
that the motive in each instance remained unknown even to the seconds.
"I am sure," he said "that they were not, could not have been, fought
for the one cause that would justify them and explain the secrecy of
the quarrel—some question involving female honour or reputation. I
can hardly conceive that any one of his adversaries could have called
in question in any way the personal loyalty of Colonel A——; and, as
you remarked of General M——, it is too absurd for a man who had
faced over and over again the fire of a whole brigade, who had led
charges against fourfold numbers, to prove his personal courage with
sword or pistol, or to think that any one would have doubted either
his spirit or his nerve had he refused to fight, whatever the
provocation. Moreover, in each case he was the challenger."

"Then these duels have injured him in Southern opinion, and have
probably tended to isolate him from society?"

"No," he replied. "Deeply as they were regretted and disapproved, his
services during the war were so brilliant, and his personal character
stands so high, that nothing could have induced his fellow-soldiers to
put any social stigma upon him. To me he must know that he would be
most welcome. Yet, though we have lived in the same city for five
years, I have only encountered him three or four times in the street,
and then he has passed with the fewest possible words, and has neither
given me his address nor accepted my urgent invitations to visit us
here. I think that there is something in the story of those duels that
will never be known, certainly something that has never been guessed
yet. And I think that either the circumstances in which they must have
had their origin, or the duels themselves, have so weighed upon his
spirits, perhaps upon his conscience, that he has chosen to avoid his
former friends, most of them also the friends of his antagonists.
Though the war ruined him as utterly as any of the thousands of
Southern gentlemen whom it has reduced from wealth to absolute
poverty, he has refused every employment which would bring him before
the public eye."

"Is there," I asked, "any point of honour on which you could suppose
him to be so exceptionally sensitive that he would think it necessary
to take the life of a man who touched him on that point, though
afterwards his regret, if not repentance, might be keen enough to
crush his spirit or break his heart?"

The General paused for a moment, and his son then interposed—

"I have heard it said that Colonel A—— was in general the least
quarrelsome of Confederate officers; but that on more than one
occasion, where his statement upon some point of fact had been
challenged by a comrade, who did not intend to question his veracity
but simply the accuracy of his observation, their brother officers had
much trouble in preventing a serious difficulty."

The next day I called as agreed upon my new-found friend, and with
some reluctance he commenced his story.

"During the last campaign, in February 1865, I was sent by General Lee
with despatches for Kirby Smith, then commanding beyond the
Mississippi. I was unable to return before the surrender, and, for
reasons into which I need not enter, I believed myself to be marked
out by the Federal Government for vengeance. If I had remained within
their reach, I might have shared the fate of Wirz and other victims of
calumnies which, once put in circulation during the war, their
official authors dared not retract at its close. Now I and others,
who, if captured in 1865, might probably have been hanged, are neither
molested nor even suspected of any other offence than that of
fighting, as our opponents fought, for the State to which our
allegiance was due. However, I thought it necessary to escape before
the final surrender of our forces beyond the Mississippi. I made my
way to Mexico, and, like one or two Southern officers of greater
distinction than myself, entered the service of the Emperor
Maximilian, not as mere soldiers of fortune, but because, knowing
better than any but her Southern neighbours knew it the miserable
anarchy of Mexico under the Republic, we regarded conquest as the one
chance of regeneration for that country, and the Emperor Maximilian as
a hero who had devoted himself to a task heroic at once in its danger
and difficulty—the restoration of a people with whom his house had a
certain historical connection to a place among the nations of the
civilised world. After his fall, I should certainly have been shot had
I been caught by the Juarists in pursuit of me. I gained the Pacific
coast, and got on board an English vessel, whose captain—loading for
San Francisco—generously weighed anchor and sailed with but half a
cargo to give me a chance of safety. He transferred me a few days
afterwards to a Dutch vessel bound for Brisbane, for at that time I
thought of settling in Queensland. The crew was weak-handed, and
consisted chiefly of Lascars, Malays, and two or three European
desperadoes of all languages and of no country. Her master was barely
competent to the ordinary duties of his command; and it was no
surprise to me when the first storm that we encountered drove us
completely out of our course, nor was I much astonished that the
captain was for some days, partly from fright and partly from drink,
incapable of using his sextant to ascertain the position of the ship.
One night we were awakened by a tremendous shock; and, to spare you
the details of a shipwreck, which have nothing to do with my story, we
found ourselves when day broke fast on a coral reef, about a mile from
an island of no great size, and out of sight of all other land. The
sextant having been broken to pieces, I had no means of ascertaining
the position of this island, nor do I now know anything of it except
that it lay, in the month of August, within the region of the
southeast trade winds. We pulled on shore, but, after exploring the
island, it was found to yield nothing attractive to seamen except
cocoa-nuts, with which our crew had soon supplied themselves as
largely as they wished, and fish, which were abundant and easily
caught, and of which they were soon tired. The captain, therefore,
when he had recovered his sobriety and his courage, had no great
difficulty in inducing them to return to the ship, and endeavour
either to get her off or construct from her timbers a raft which,
following the course of the winds, might, it was thought, bring them
into the track of vessels. This would take some time, and I meanwhile
was allowed to remain (my own wish) on _terra firma_; the noise, dirt,
and foul smells of the vessel being, especially in that climate,
intolerable.

"About ten o'clock in the morning of the 25th August 1867, I was lying
towards the southern end of the island, on a little hillock tolerably
clear of trees, and facing a sort of glade or avenue, covered only
with brush and young trees, which allowed me to see the sky within
perhaps twenty degrees of the horizon. Suddenly, looking up, I saw
what appeared at first like a brilliant star considerably higher than
the sun. It increased in size with amazing rapidity, till, in a very
few seconds after its first appearance, it had a very perceptible
disc. For an instant it obscured the sun. In another moment a
tremendous shock temporarily deprived me of my senses, and I think
that more than an hour had elapsed before I recovered them. Sitting
up, somewhat confused, and looking around me, I became aware that some
strange accident had occurred. In every direction I saw such traces of
havoc as I had witnessed more than once when a Confederate force
holding an impenetrable woodland had been shelled at random for some
hours with the largest guns that the enemy could bring into the field.
Trees were torn and broken, branches scattered in all directions,
fragments of stone, earth, and coral rock flung all around.
Particularly I remember that a piece of metal of considerable size had
cut off the tops of two or three trees, and fixed itself at last on
what was now the summit of one about a third of whose length had been
broken off and lay on the ground. I soon perceived that this
miraculous bombardment had proceeded from a point to the
north-eastward, the direction in which at that season and hour the sun
was visible. Proceeding thitherward, the evidences of destruction
became every minute more marked, I might say more universal. Trees had
been thrown down, torn up by the roots, hurled against one another;
rocks broken and flung to great distances, some even thrown up in the
air, and so reversed in falling that, while again half buried in the
soil, they exposed what had been their undermost surface. In a word,
before I had gone two miles I saw that the island had sustained a
shock which might have been that of an earthquake, which certainly
equalled that of the most violent Central American earthquakes in
severity, but which had none of the special peculiarities of that kind
of natural convulsion. Presently I came upon fragments of a shining
pale yellow metal, generally small, but in one or two cases of
remarkable size and shape, apparently torn from some sheet of great
thickness. In one case I found embedded between two such jagged
fragments a piece of remarkably hard impenetrable cement. At last I
came to a point from which through the destruction of the trees the
sea was visible in the direction in which the ship had lain; but the
ship, as in a few moments I satisfied myself, had utterly disappeared.
Reaching the beach, I found that the shock had driven the sea far up
upon the land; fishes lying fifty yards inland, and everything
drenched in salt water. At last, guided by the signs of
ever-increasing devastation, I reached the point whence the mischief
had proceeded. I can give no idea in words of what I there found. The
earth had been torn open, rooted up as if by a gigantic explosion. In
some places sharp-pointed fragments of the coral rock, which at a
depth of several feet formed the bed of the island, were discernible
far below the actual surface. At others, the surface itself was raised
several feet by _dèbris_ of every kind. What I may call the
crater—though it was no actual hole, but rather a cavity torn and
then filled up by falling fragments—was two or three hundred feet in
circumference; and in this space I found considerable masses of the
same metallic substance, attached generally to pieces of the cement.
After examining and puzzling myself over this strange scene for some
time, my next care was to seek traces of the ship and of her crew; and
before long I saw just outside the coral reef what had been her
bowsprit, and presently, floating on the sea, one of her masts, with
the sail attached. There could be little doubt that the shock had
extended to her, had driven her off the reef where she had been fixed
into the deep water outside, where she must have sunk immediately, and
had broken her spars. No traces of her crew were to be seen. They had
probably been stunned at the same time that they were thrown into deep
water; and before I came in sight of the point where she had perished,
whatever animal bodies were to be found must have been devoured by the
sharks, which abounded in that neighbourhood. Dismay, perplexity, and
horror prevented my doing anything to solve my doubts or relieve my
astonishment before the sun went down; and during the night my sleep
was broken by snatches of horrible dreams and intervals of waking,
during which I marvelled over what I had seen, scarcely crediting my
memory or my senses. In the morning, I went back to the crater, and
with some tools that had been left on shore contrived to dig somewhat
deeply among the _debris_ with which it was filled. I found very
little that could enlighten me except pieces of glass, of various
metals, of wood, some of which seemed apparently to have been portions
of furniture; and one damaged but still entire relic, which I
preserved and brought away with me."

Here the Colonel removed a newspaper which had covered a portion of
his table, and showed me a metallic case beaten out of all shape, but
apparently of what had been a silvery colour, very little rusted,
though much soiled. This he opened, and I saw at once that it was of
enormous thickness and solidity, to which and to favouring
circumstances it owed its preservation in the general ruin he
described. That it had undergone some severe and violent shock there
could be no question. Beside the box lay a less damaged though still
seriously injured object, in which I recognised the resemblance of a
book of considerable thickness, and bound in metal like that of the
case. This I afterwards ascertained beyond doubt to be a metalloid
alloy whereof the principal ingredient was aluminium, or some
substance so closely resembling it as not to be distinguishable from
it by simple chemical tests. A friend to whom I submitted a small
portion broken off from the rest expressed no doubt that it was a kind
of aluminium bronze, but inclined to believe that it contained no
inconsiderable proportion of a metal with which chemists are as yet
imperfectly acquainted; perhaps, he said, silicon; certainly something
which had given to the alloy a hardness and tenacity unknown to any
familiar metallurgical compound.

"This," said my friend, opening the volume, "is a manuscript which was
contained in this case when I took it from among the debris of the
crater. I should have told you that I found there what I believed to
be fragments of human flesh and bone, but so crushed and mangled that
I could form no positive conclusion. My next care was to escape from
the island, which I felt sure lay far from the ordinary course of
merchant vessels. A boat which had brought me ashore—the smaller of
the two belonging to the ship—had fortunately been left on the end of
the island furthest from that on which the vessel had been driven, and
had, owing to its remoteness, though damaged, not been fatally injured
by the shock. I repaired this, made and fixed a mast, and with no
little difficulty contrived to manufacture a sort of sail from strips
of bark woven together. Knowing that, even if I could sustain life on
the island, life under such circumstances would not be worth having, I
was perfectly willing to embark upon a voyage in which I was well
aware the chances of death were at least as five to one. I caught and
contrived to smoke a quantity of fish sufficient to last me for a
fortnight, and filled a small cask with brackish but still drinkable
water. In this vessel, thus stored, I embarked about a fortnight after
the day of the mysterious shock. On the second evening of my voyage I
was caught by a gale which compelled me to lower the sail, and before
which I was driven for three days and nights, in what direction I can
hardly guess. On the fourth morning the wind had fallen, and by noon
it was a perfect calm. I need not describe what has been described by
so many shipwrecked sailors,—the sufferings of a solitary voyager in
an open boat under a tropical sun. The storm had supplied me with
water more than enough; so that I was spared that arch-torture of
thirst which seems, in the memory of such sufferers, to absorb all
others. Towards evening a slight breeze sprang up, and by morning I
came in sight of a vessel, which I contrived to board. Her crew,
however, and even her captain, utterly discredited such part of my
strange story as I told them. On that point, however, I will say no
more than this: I will place this manuscript in your hands. I will
give you the key to such of its ciphers as I have been able to make
out. The language, I believe, for I am no scholar, is Latin of a
mediæval type; but there are words which, if I rightly decipher them,
are not Latin, and hardly seem to belong to any known language; most
of them, I fancy, quasi-scientific terms, invented to describe various
technical devices unknown to the world when the manuscript was
written. I only make it a condition that you shall not publish the
story during my life; that if you show the manuscript or mention the
tale in confidence to any one, you will strictly keep my secret; and
that if after my death, of which you shall be advised, you do publish
it, you will afford no clue by which the donor could be confidently
identified."

"I promise," said I. "But I should like to ask you one question. What
do you conceive to have been the cause of the extraordinary shock you
felt and of the havoc you witnessed? What, in short, the nature of the
occurrence and the origin of the manuscript you entrust to my care?"

"Why need you ask me?" he returned. "You are as capable as myself of
drawing a deduction from what I have told you, and I have told you
everything, I believe, that could assist you. The manuscript will tell
the rest."

"But," said I, "an actual eye-witness often receives from a number of
little facts which he cannot remember, which are perhaps too minute to
have been actually and individually noted by him, an impression which
is more likely to be correct than any that could be formed by a
stranger on the fullest cross-questioning, on the closest examination
of what remains in the witness's memory. I should like to hear, before
opening the manuscript, what you believe to have been its origin.

"I can only say," he answered, "that what must be inferred from the
manuscript is what I had inferred before I opened it. That same
explanation was the only one that ever occurred to me, even in the
first night. It then seemed to me utterly incredible, but it is still
the only conceivable explanation that my mind can suggest."

"Did you," asked I, "connect the shock and the relics, which I presume
you know were not on the island before the shock, with the meteor and
the strange obscuration of the sun?"

"I certainly did," he said. "Having done so, there could be but one
conclusion as to the quarter from which the shock was received."

The examination and transcription of the manuscript, with all the help
afforded me by my friend's previous efforts, was the work of several
years. There is, as the reader will see, more than one _hiatus valde
deflendus_, as the scholiasts have it, and there are passages in
which, whether from the illegibility of the manuscript or the
employment of technical terms unknown to me, I cannot be certain of
the correctness of my translation. Such, however, as it is, I give it
to the world, having fulfilled, I believe, every one of the conditions
imposed upon me by my late and deeply regretted friend.

The character of the manuscript is very curious, and its translation
was exceedingly difficult. The material on which it is written
resembles nothing used for such purposes on Earth. It is more like a
very fine linen or silken web, but it is far closer in texture, and
has never been woven in any kind of loom at all like those employed in
any manufacture known to history or archaeology. The letters, or more
properly symbols, are minute, but executed with extraordinary
clearness. I should fancy that something more like a pencil than a
pen, but with a finer point than that of the finest pencil, was
employed in the writing. Contractions and combinations are not merely
frequent, but almost universal. There is scarcely an instance in which
five consecutive letters are separately written, and there is no
single line in which half a dozen contractions, often including from
four to ten letters, do not occur. The pages are of the size of an
ordinary duodecimo, but contain some fifty lines per page, and perhaps
one hundred and fifty letters in each line. What were probably the
first half dozen pages have been utterly destroyed, and the next half
dozen are so mashed, tattered, and defaced, that only a few sentences
here and there are legible. I have contrived, however, to combine
these into what I believe to be a substantially correct representation
of the author's meaning. The Latin is of a monastic—sometimes almost
canine—quality, with many words which are not Latin at all. For the
rest, though here and there pages are illegible, and though some
symbols, especially those representing numbers or chemical compounds,
are absolutely undecipherable, it has been possible to effect what I
hope will be found a clear and coherent translation. I have condensed
the narrative but have not altered or suppressed a line for fear of
offending those who must be unreasonable, indeed, if they lay the
offence to my charge.

One word more. It is possible, if not likely, that some of those
friends of the narrator, for whom the account was evidently written,
may still be living, and that these pages may meet their eyes. If so,
they may be able to solve the few problems that have entirely baffled
me, and to explain, if they so choose, the secrets to which,
intentionally or through the destruction of its introductory portion,
the manuscript affords no clue.

I must add that these volumes contain only the first section of the
MS. record. The rest, relating the incidents of a second voyage and
describing another world, remains in my hands; and, should this part
of the work excite general attention, the conclusion will, by myself
or by my executors, be given to the public. Otherwise, on my death, it
will be placed in the library of some national or scientific
institution.




CHAPTER II - OUTWARD BOUND.


... For obvious reasons, those who possessed the secret of the
Apergy [1] had never dreamed of applying it in the manner I proposed.
It had seemed to them little more than a curious secret of nature,
perhaps hardly so much, since the existence of a repulsive force in
the atomic sphere had been long suspected and of late certainly
ascertained, and its preponderance is held to be the characteristic of
the gaseous as distinguished from the liquid or solid state of matter.
Till lately, no means of generating or collecting this force in large
quantity had been found. The progress of electrical science had solved
this difficulty; and when the secret was communicated to me, it
possessed a value which had never before belonged to it.

Ever since, in childhood, I learnt that the planets were worlds, a
visit to one or more of the nearest of them had been my favourite
day-dream. Treasuring every hint afforded by science or fancy that
bore upon the subject, I felt confident that such a voyage would be
one day achieved. Helped by one or two really ingenious romances on
this theme, I had dreamed out my dream, realised every difficulty,
ascertained every factor in the problem. I had satisfied myself that
only one thing needful was as yet wholly beyond the reach and even the
proximate hopes of science. Human invention could furnish as yet no
motive power that could fulfil the main requirement of the
problem—uniform or constantly increasing motion _in vacuo_—motion
through a region affording no resisting medium. This must be a
_repulsive_ energy capable of acting through an utter void. Man,
animals, birds, fishes move by repulsion applied at every moment. In
air or water, paddles, oars, sails, fins, wings act by repulsion
exerted on the fluid element in which they work. But in space there is
no such resisting element on which repulsion can operate. I needed a
repulsion which would act like gravitation through an indefinite
distance and in a void—act upon a remote fulcrum, such as might be
the Earth in a voyage to the Moon, or the Sun in a more distant
journey. As soon, then, as the character of the apergic force was made
known to me, its application to this purpose seized on my mind.
Experiment had proved it possible, by the method described at the
commencement of this record, to generate and collect it in amounts
practically unlimited. The other hindrances to a voyage through space
were trivial in comparison with that thus overcome; there were
difficulties to be surmounted, not absent or deficient powers in
nature to be discovered. The chief of these, of course, concerned the
conveyance of air sufficient for the needs of the traveller during the
period of his journey. The construction of an air-tight vessel was
easy enough; but however large the body of air conveyed, even though
its oxygen should not be exhausted, the carbonic acid given out by
breathing would very soon so contaminate the whole that life would be
impossible. To eliminate this element it would only be necessary to
carry a certain quantity of lime-water, easily calculated, and by
means of a fan or similar instrument to drive the whole of the air
periodically through the vessel containing it. The lime in solution
combining with the noxious gas would show by the turbid whiteness of
the water the absorption of the carbonic acid and formation of
carbonate of lime. But if the carbonic acid gas were merely to be
removed, it is obvious that the oxygen of the air, which forms a part
of that gas, would be constantly diminished and ultimately exhausted;
and the effect of highly oxygenated air upon the circulation is
notoriously too great to allow of any considerable increase at the
outset in the proportion of this element. I might carry a fresh supply
of oxygen, available at need, in some solid combination like chlorate
of potash; but the electricity employed for the generation of the
apergy might be also applied to the decomposition of carbonic acid and
the restoration of its oxygen to the atmosphere.

But the vessel had to be steered as well as propelled; and in order to
accomplish this it would be necessary to command the direction of the
apergy at pleasure. My means of doing this depended on two of the
best-established peculiarities of this strange force: its rectilinear
direction and its conductibility. We found that it acts through air or
in a vacuum in a single straight line, without deflection, and
seemingly without diminution. Most solids, and especially metals,
according to their electric condition, are more or less impervious to
it—antapergic. Its power of penetration diminishes under a very
obscure law, but so rapidly that no conceivable strength of current
would affect an object protected by an intervening sheet half an inch
in thickness. On the other hand, it prefers to all other lines the
axis of a conductive bar, such as may be formed of [undecipherable] in
an antapergic sheath. However such bar may be curved, bent, or
divided, the current will fill and follow it, and pursue indefinitely,
without divergence, diffusion, or loss, the direction in which it
emerges. Therefore, by collecting the current from the generator in a
vessel cased with antapergic material, and leaving no other aperture,
its entire volume might be sent into a conductor. By cutting across
this conductor, and causing the further part to rotate upon the
nearer, I could divert the current through any required angle. Thus I
could turn the repulsion upon the resistant body (sun or planet), and
so propel the vessel in any direction I pleased.

I had determined that my first attempt should be a visit to Mars. The
Moon is a far less interesting body, since, on the hemisphere turned
towards the Earth, the absence of an atmosphere and of water ensures
the absence of any such life as is known to us—probably of any life
that could be discerned by our senses—and would prevent landing;
while nearly all the soundest astronomers agree in believing, on
apparently sufficient grounds, that even the opposite hemisphere [of
which small portions are from time to time rendered visible by the
libration, though greatly foreshortened and consequently somewhat
imperfectly seen] is equally devoid of the two primary necessaries of
animal and vegetable life. That Mars has seas, clouds, and an
atmosphere was generally admitted, and I held it to be beyond
question. Of Venus, owing to her extraordinary brilliancy, to the fact
that when nearest to the Earth a very small portion of her lighted
surface is visible to us, and above all to her dense cloud-envelope,
very little was known; and though I cherished the intention to visit
her even more earnestly than my resolve to reach the probably less
attractive planet Mars, I determined to begin with that voyage of
which the conditions and the probable result were most obvious and
certain. I preferred, moreover, in the first instance, to employ the
apergy as a propelling rather than as a resisting force. Now, after
passing beyond the immediate sphere of the Earth's attraction, it is
plain that in going towards Mars I should be departing from the Sun,
relying upon the apergy to overcome his attraction; whereas in seeking
to attain Venus I should be approaching the Sun, relying for my main
motive power upon that tremendous attraction, and employing the apergy
only to moderate the rate of movement and control its direction. The
latter appeared to me the more delicate, difficult, and perhaps
dangerous task of the two; and I resolved to defer it until after I
had acquired some practical experience and dexterity in the control of
my machinery.

It was expedient, of course, to make my vessel as light as possible,
and, at the same time, as large as considerations of weight would
admit. But it was of paramount importance to have walls of great
thickness, in order to prevent the penetration of the outer cold of
space, or rather the outward passage into that intense cold of the
heat generated within the vessel itself, as well as to resist the
tremendous outward pressure of the air inside. Partly for these
reasons, and partly because its electric character makes it especially
capable of being rendered at will pervious or impervious to the
apergic current, I resolved to make the outer and inner walls of an
alloy of ..., while the space between should be filled up with a mass
of concrete or cement, in its nature less penetrable to heat than any
other substance which Nature has furnished or the wit of man
constructed from her materials. The materials of this cement and their
proportions were as follows. [2]

       *       *       *       *       *

Briefly, having determined to take advantage of the approaching
opposition of Mars in MDCCCXX ... [3], I had my vessel constructed with
walls three feet thick, of which the outer six and the inner three
inches were formed of the metalloid. In shape my Astronaut somewhat
resembled the form of an antique Dutch East-Indiaman, being widest and
longest in a plane equidistant from floor and ceiling, the sides and
ends sloping outwards from the floor and again inwards towards the
roof. The deck and keel, however, were absolutely flat, and each one
hundred feet in length and fifty in breadth, the height of the vessel
being about twenty feet. In the centre of the floor and in that of the
roof respectively I placed a large lens of crystal, intended to act as
a window in the first instance, the lower to admit the rays of the
Sun, while through the upper I should discern the star towards which I
was steering. The floor, being much heavier than the rest of the
vessel, would naturally be turned downwards; that is, during the
greater part of the voyage towards the Sun. I placed a similar lens in
the centre of each of the four sides, with two plane windows of the
same material, one in the upper, the other in the lower half of the
wall, to enable me to discern any object in whatever direction. The
crystal in question consisted of ..., which, as those who manufactured
it for me are aware, admits of being cast with a perfection and
equality of structure throughout unattainable with ordinary glass, and
wrought to a certainty and accuracy of curvature which the most
patient and laborious polishing can hardly give to the lenses even of
moderate-sized telescopes, whether made of glass or metal, and is
singularly impervious to heat. I had so calculated the curvature that
several eye-pieces of different magnifying powers which I carried with
me might be adapted equally to any of the window lenses, and throw a
perfect image, magnified by 100, 1000, or 5000, upon mirrors properly
placed.

I carpeted the floor with several alternate layers of cork and cloth.
At one end I placed my couch, table, bookshelves, and other necessary
furniture, with all the stores needed for my voyage, and with a
further weight sufficient to preserve equilibrium. At the other I made
a garden with soil three feet deep and five feet in width, divided
into two parts so as to permit access to the windows. I filled each
garden closely with shrubs and flowering plants of the greatest
possible variety, partly to absorb animal waste, partly in the hope of
naturalising them elsewhere. Covering both with wire netting extending
from the roof to the floor, I filled the cages thus formed with a
variety of birds. In the centre of the vessel was the machinery,
occupying altogether a space of about thirty feet by twenty. The
larger portion of this area was, of course, taken up by the generator,
above which was the receptacle of the apergy. From this descended
right through the floor a conducting bar in an antapergic sheath, so
divided that without separating it from the upper portion the lower
might revolve in any direction through an angle of twenty minutes
(20'). This, of course, was intended to direct the stream of the
repulsive force against the Sun. The angle might have been extended to
thirty minutes, but that I deemed it inexpedient to rely upon a force,
directed against the outer portions of the Sun's disc, believing that
these are occupied by matter of density so small that it might afford
no sufficient base, so to speak, for the repulsive action. It was
obviously necessary also to repel or counteract the attraction of any
body which might come near me during the voyage. Again, in getting
free from the Earth's influence, I must be able to steer in any
direction and at any angle to the surface. For this purpose I placed
five smaller bars, passing through the roof and four sides, connected,
like the main conductor, with the receptacle or apergion, but so that
they could revolve through a much larger angle, and could at any
moment be detached and insulated. My steering apparatus consisted of a
table in which were three large circles. The midmost and left hand of
these were occupied by accurately polished plane mirrors. The central
circle, or metacompass, was divided by three hundred and sixty fine
lines, radiating from the centre to the circumference, marking as many
different directions, each deviating by one degree of arc from the
next. This mirror was to receive through the lens in the roof the
image of the star towards which I was steering. While this remained
stationary in the centre all was well. When it moved along any one of
the lines, the vessel was obviously deviating from her course in the
opposite direction; and, to recover the right course, the repellent
force must be caused to drive her in the direction in which the image
had moved. To accomplish this, a helm was attached to the lower
division of the main conductor, by which the latter could be made to
move at will in any direction within the limit of its rotation.
Controlling this helm was, in the open or steering circle on the right
hand, a small knob to be moved exactly parallel to the deviation of
the star in the mirror of the metacompass. The left-hand circle, or
discometer, was divided by nineteen hundred and twenty concentric
circles, equidistant from each other. The outermost, about twice as
far from the centre as from the external edge of the mirror, was
exactly equal to the Sun's circumference when presenting the largest
disc he ever shows to an observer on Earth. Each inner circle
corresponded to a diameter reduced by one second. By means of a
vernier or eye-piece, the diameter of the Sun could be read off the
discometer, and from his diameter my distance could be accurately
calculated. On the further side of the machinery was a chamber for the
decomposition of the carbonic acid, through which the air was driven
by a fan. This fan itself was worked by a horizontal wheel with two
projecting squares of antapergic metal, against each of which, as it
reached a certain point, a very small stream of repulsive force was
directed from the apergion, keeping the wheel in constant and rapid
motion. I had, of course, supplied myself with an ample store of
compressed vegetables, preserved meats, milk, tea, coffee, &c., and a
supply of water sufficient to last for double the period which the
voyage was expected to occupy; also a well-furnished tool-chest (with
wires, tubes, &c.). One of the lower windows was made just large
enough to admit my person, and after entering I had to close it and
fix it in its place firmly with cement, which, when I wished to quit
the vessel, would have again to be removed.

Of course some months were occupied in the manufacture of the
different portions of the vessel and her machinery, and sometime more
in their combination; so that when, at the end of July, I was ready to
start, the opposition was rapidly approaching. In the course of some
fifty days the Earth, moving in her orbit at a rate of about eleven
hundred miles [4] per minute, would overtake Mars; that is to say,
would pass between him and the Sun. In starting from the Earth I
should share this motion; I too should go eleven hundred miles a
minute in the same direction; but as I should travel along an orbit
constantly widening, the Earth would leave me behind. The apergy had
to make up for this, as well as to carry me some forty millions of
miles in a direction at right angles to the former—right outward
towards the orbit of Mars. Again, I should share the motion of that
particular spot of the Earth's surface from which I rose around her
axis, a motion varying with the latitude, greatest at the equator,
nothing at the pole. This would whirl me round and round the Earth at
the rate of a thousand miles an hour; of this I must, of course, get
rid as soon as possible. And when I should be rid of it, I meant to
start at first right upward; that is, straight away from the Sun and
in the plane of the ecliptic, which is not very different from that in
which Mars also moves. Therefore I should begin my effective ascent
from a point of the Earth as far as possible from the Sun; that is, on
the midnight meridian.

For the same reason which led me to start so long before the date of
the opposition, I resolved, having regard to the action of the Earth's
rotation on her axis, to start some hours before midnight. Taking
leave, then, of the two friends who had thus far assisted me, I
entered the Astronaut on the 1st August, about 4.30 P.M. After sealing
up the entrance-window, and ascertaining carefully that everything was
in order—a task which occupied me about an hour—I set the generator
to work; and when I had ascertained that the apergion was full, and
that the force was supplied at the required rate, I directed the whole
at first into the main conductor. After doing this I turned towards
the lower window on the west—or, as it was then, the right-hand
side—and was in time to catch sight of the trees on the hills, some
half mile off and about two hundred feet above the level of my
starting-point. I should have said that I had considerably compressed
my atmosphere and increased the proportion of oxygen by about ten per
cent., and also carried with me the means of reproducing the whole
amount of the latter in case of need. Among my instruments was a
pressure-gauge, so minutely divided that, with a movable vernier of
the same power as the fixed ones employed to read the glass circles, I
could discover the slightest escape of air in a very few seconds. The
pressure-gauge, however, remained immovable. Going close to the window
and looking out, I saw the Earth falling from me so fast that, within
five minutes after my departure, objects like trees and even houses
had become almost indistinguishable to the naked eye. I had half
expected to hear the whistling of the air as the vessel rushed upward,
but nothing of the kind was perceptible through her dense walls. It
was strange to observe the rapid rise of the sun from the westward.
Still more remarkable, on turning to the upper window, was the rapidly
blackening aspect of the sky. Suddenly everything disappeared except a
brilliant rainbow at some little distance—or perhaps I should rather
have said a halo of more than ordinary rainbow brilliancy, since it
occupied, not like the rainbows seen from below, something less than
half, but nearly two-thirds of a circle. I was, of course, aware that
I was passing through a cloud, and one of very unusual thickness. In a
few seconds, however, I was looking down upon its upper surface,
reflecting from a thousand broken masses of vapour at different
levels, from cavities and hillocks of mist, the light of the sun;
white beams mixed with innumerable rays of all colours in a confusion,
of indescribable brilliancy. I presume that the total obscuration of
everything outside the cloud during my passage through it was due to
its extent and not to its density, since at that height it could not
have been otherwise than exceedingly light and diffuse. Looking upward
through the eastern window, I could now discern a number of brighter
stars, and at nearly every moment fresh ones came into view on a
constantly darkening background. Looking downward to the west, where
alone the entire landscape lay in daylight, I presently discerned the
outline of shore and sea extending over a semicircle whose radius much
exceeded five hundred miles, implying that I was about thirty-five
miles from the sea-level. Even at this height the extent of my survey
was so great in comparison to my elevation, that a line drawn from the
vessel to the horizon was, though very roughly, almost parallel to the
surface; and the horizon therefore seemed to be not very far from my
own level, while the point below me, of course, appeared at a vast
distance. The appearance of the surface, therefore, was as if the
horizon had been, say, some thirty miles higher than the centre of the
semicircle bounding my view, and the area included in my prospect had
the form of a saucer or shallow bowl. But since the diameter of the
visible surface increases only as the square root of the height, this
appearance became less and less perceptible as I rose higher. It had
taken me twenty minutes to attain the elevation of thirty-five miles;
but my speed was, of course, constantly increasing, very much as the
speed of an object falling to the Earth from a great height increases;
and before ten more minutes had elapsed, I found myself surrounded by
a blackness nearly absolute, except in the direction of the
Sun,—which was still well above the sea—and immediately round the
terrestrial horizon, on which rested a ring of sunlit azure sky,
broken here and there by clouds. In every other direction I seemed to
be looking not merely upon a black or almost black sky, but into close
surrounding darkness. Amid this darkness, however, were visible
innumerable points of light, more or less brilliant—the stars—which
no longer seemed to be spangled over the surface of a distant vault,
but rather scattered immediately about me, nearer or farther to the
instinctive apprehension of the eye as they were brighter or fainter.
Scintillation there was none, except in the immediate vicinity of the
eastern horizon, where I still saw them through a dense atmosphere. In
short, before thirty minutes had elapsed since the start, I was
satisfied that I had passed entirely out of the atmosphere, and had
entered into the vacancy of space—if such a thing as vacant space
there be.

At this point I had to cut off the greater part of the apergy and
check my speed, for reasons that will be presently apparent. I had
started in daylight in order that during the first hundred miles of my
ascent I might have a clear view of the Earth's surface. Not only did
I wish to enjoy the spectacle, but as I had to direct my course by
terrestrial landmarks, it was necessary that I should be able to see
these so as to determine the rate and direction of the Astronaut's
motion, and discern the first symptoms of any possible danger. But
obviously, since my course lay generally in the plane of the ecliptic,
and for the present at least nearly in the line joining the centres of
the Earth and Sun, it was desirable that my real journey into space
should commence in the plane of the midnight meridian; that is, from
above the part of the Earth's surface immediately opposite the Sun. I
had to reach this line, and having reached it, to remain for some time
above it. To do both, I must attain it, if possible, at the same
moment at which I secured a westward impulse just sufficient to
counterbalance the eastward impulse derived from the rotation of the
Earth;—that is, in the latitude from which I started, a thousand
miles an hour. I had calculated that while directing through the main
bar a current of apergy sufficient to keep the Astronaut at a fixed
elevation, I could easily spare for the eastward conductor sufficient
force to create in the space of one hour the impulse required, but
that in the course of that hour the gradually increasing apergic force
would drive me 500 miles westward. Now in six hours the Earth's
rotation would carry an object close to its surface through an angle
of 90°; that is, from the sunset to the midnight meridian. But the
greater the elevation of the object the wider its orbit round the
Earth's centre, and the longer each degree; so that moving eastward
only a thousand miles an hour, I should constantly lag behind a point
on the Earth's surface, and should not reach the midnight meridian
till somewhat later. I had, moreover, to lose 500 miles of the
eastward drift during the last hour in which I should be subject to
it, through the action of the apergic force above-mentioned. Now, an
elevation of 330 miles would give the Astronaut an orbit on which 90°
would represent 6500 miles. In seven hours I should be carried along
that orbit 7000 miles eastward by the impulse my Astronaut had
received from the Earth, and driven back 500 miles by the apergy; so
that at 1 A.M. by my chronometer I should be exactly in the plane of
the midnight meridian, or 6500 miles east of my starting-point in
space, provided that I put the eastward apergic current in action
exactly at 12 P.M. by the chronometer. At 1 A.M. also I should have
generated a westward impulse of 1000 miles an hour. This, once
created, would continue to exist though the force that created it were
cut off, and would exactly counterbalance the opposite rotation
impulse derived from the Earth; so that thenceforward I should be
entirely free from the influence of the latter, though still sharing
that motion of the Earth through space at the rate of nearly nineteen
miles per second, which would carry me towards the line joining at the
moment of opposition her centre with that of Mars.

All went as I had calculated. I contrived to arrest the Astronaut's
motion at the required elevation just about the moment of sunset on
the region of the Earth immediately underneath. At 12 P.M., or 24h by
the chronometer, I directed a current of the requisite strength into
the eastward conductor, which I had previously pointed to the Earth's
surface, but a little short of the extreme terrestrial horizon, as I
calculated it. At 1 A.M. I found myself, judging by the stars, exactly
where I wished to be, and nearly stationary as regarded the Earth. I
instantly arrested the eastward current, detaching that conductor from
the apergion; and, directing the whole force of the current into the
downward conductor, I had the pleasure of seeing that, after a very
little adjustment of the helm, the stars remained stationary in the
mirror of the metacompass, showing that I had escaped from the
influence of the Earth's rotation. It was of course impossible to
measure the distance traversed during the invisibility of the Earth,
but I reckoned that I had made above 500 miles between 1h. and 2h.
A.M., and that at 4h. I was not less than 4800 miles from the surface.
With this inference the indication of my barycrite substantially
agreed. The latter instrument consisted of a spring whose deflection
by a given weight upon the equator had been very carefully tested.
Gravity diminishing as the square of the distance from the centre, it
was obvious that at about 8000 miles—or 4000 above the Earth's
surface—this spring would be deflected only one quarter as much by a
given weight as on Earth: at 16,000 miles from the surface, or 20,000
from the centre, one-twenty-fifth as much, and so on. I had graduated
the scale accordingly, and it indicated at present a distance somewhat
less than 9000 miles from the centre. Having adjusted the helm and set
the alarum to wake me in six hours, I lay down upon my bed.

The anxiety and peril of my position had disturbed me very little
whilst I was actively engaged either in steering and manipulating my
machinery, or in looking upon the marvellous and novel spectacles
presented to my eyes; but it now oppressed me in my sleep, and caused
me frequently to wake from dreams of a hideous character. Two or three
times, on such awaking, I went to examine the metacompass, and on one
occasion found it necessary slightly to readjust the helm; the stars
by which I steered having moved some second or two to the right of
their proper position.

On rising, I completed the circuit which filled my vessel with
brilliant light emitted from an electric lamp at the upper part of the
stern, and reflected by the polished metallic walls. I then proceeded
to get my breakfast, for which, as I had tasted nothing since some
hours before the start, I had a hearty appetite. I had anticipated
some trouble from the diminished action of gravity, doubting whether
the boiling-point at this immense height above the Earth might not be
affected; but I found that this depends upon the pressure of the
atmosphere alone, and that this pressure was in nowise affected by the
absence of gravity. My atmosphere being somewhat denser than that of
the Earth, the boiling-point was not 100°, but 101° Cent. The
temperature of the interior of the vessel, taken at a point
equidistant from the stove and from the walls, was about 5° C.;
unpleasantly cool, but still, with the help of a greatcoat, not
inconveniently so. I found it absolutely impossible to measure by
means of the thermometers I had placed outside the windows the cold of
space; but that it falls far short of the extreme supposed by some
writers, I confidently believe. It is, however, cold enough to freeze
mercury, and to reduce every other substance employed as a test of
atmospheric or laboratory temperatures to a solidity which admits of
no further contraction. I had filled one outside thermometer with
spirit, but this was broken before I looked at it; and in another,
whose bulb unfortunately was blackened, and which was filled with
carbonic acid gas, an apparent vacuum had been created. Was it that
the gas had been frozen, and had sunk into the lower part of the bulb,
where it would, of course, be invisible? When I had completed my meal
and smoked the very small cigar which alone a prudent consideration
for the state of the atmosphere would allow me, the chronometer showed
10 A.M. It was not surprising that by this time weight had become
almost non-existent. My twelve stone had dwindled to the weight of a
small fowl, and hooking my little finger into the loop of a string
hung from a peg fixed near the top of the stern wall, I found myself
able thus to support my weight without any sense of fatigue for a
quarter of an hour or more; in fact, I felt during that time
absolutely no sense of muscular weariness. This state of things
entailed only one inconvenience. Nothing had any stability; so that
the slightest push or jerk would upset everything that was not fixed.
However, I had so far anticipated this that nothing of any material
consequence was unfixed, and except that a touch with my spoon upset
the egg-cup and egg on which I was about to breakfast, and that this,
falling against a breakfast cup full of coffee, overturned that, I was
not incommoded. I managed to save the greater part of the beverage,
since, the atmospheric pressure being the same though the weight was
so changed, lead, and still more china or liquid, fell in the
Astronaut as slowly as feathers in the immediate vicinity of the
Earth. Still it was a novel experience to find myself able to lean in
any direction, and rest in almost any posture, with but the slightest
support for the body's centre of gravity; and further to find on
experiment that it was possible to remain for a couple of hours with
my heels above my head, in the favourite position of a Yankee's lower
limbs, without any perceptible congestion of blood or confusion of
brain.

I was occupied all day with abstract calculations; and knowing that
for some time I could see nothing of the Earth—her dark side being
opposite me and wholly obscuring the Sun, while I was as yet far from
having entered within the sphere where any novel celestial phenomena
might be expected—I only gave an occasional glance at the discometer
and metacompass, suppressing of course the electric glare within my
vessel, till I awoke from a short siesta about 19h. (7 P.M.) The Earth
at this time occupied on the sphere of view a space—defined at first
only by the absence of stars—about thirty times greater than the disc
of the Moon as seen through a tube; but, being dark, scarcely seemed
larger to the eye than the full Moon when on the horizon. But a new
method of defining its disc was presently afforded me. I was, in fact,
when looking through the lower window, in the same position as regards
the Earth as would be an inhabitant of the lunar hemisphere turned
towards her, having no external atmosphere interposed between us, but
being at about two-thirds of the lunar distance. And as, during an
eclipse, the Lunarian would see round the Earth a halo created by the
refraction of the Sun's rays in the terrestrial atmosphere—a halo
bright enough on most occasions so to illuminate the Moon as to render
her visible to us—so to my eyes the Earth was surrounded by a halo
somewhat resembling the solar corona as seen in eclipses, if not
nearly so brilliant, but, unlike the solar corona, coloured, with a
preponderance of red so decided as fully to account for the peculiar
hue of the eclipsed Moon. To paint this, unless means of painting
light—the one great deficiency which is still the opprobrium of human
art—were discovered, would task to the uttermost the powers of the
ablest artist, and at best he could give but a very imperfect notion
of it. To describe it so that its beauty, brilliancy, and wondrous
nature shall be in the slightest degree appreciated by my readers
would require a command of words such as no poet since Homer—nay, not
Homer himself—possessed. What was strange, and can perhaps be
rendered intelligible, was the variation, or, to use a phrase more
suggestive and more natural, if not more accurate, the extreme
mobility of the hues of this earthly corona. There were none of the
efflorescences, if one may so term them, which are so generally
visible at four cardinal points of its solar prototype. The outer
portion of the band faded very rapidly into the darkness of space; but
the edge, though absolutely undefined, was perfectly even. But on the
generally rainbow-tinted ground suffused with red—which perhaps might
best be described by calling it a rainbow seen on a background of
brilliant crimson—there were here and there blotches of black or of
lighter or darker grey, caused apparently by vast expanses of cloud,
more or less dense. Round the edges of each of these were little
irregular rainbow-coloured halos of their own interrupting and
variegating the continuous bands of the corona; while throughout all
was discernible a perpetual variability, like the flashing or shooting
of colour in the opal, the mother-of-pearl, or similarly tinted
translucent substances when exposed to the irregular play of bright
light—only that in this case the tints were incomparably more
brilliant, the change more striking, if not more rapid. I could not
say that at any particular moment any point or part of the surface
presented this or that definite hue; and yet the general character of
the rainbow, suffused with or backed by crimson, was constant and
unmistakable. The light sent through the window was too dim and too
imperfectly diffused within my vessel to be serviceable, but for some
time I put out the electric lamp in order that its diffused light
should not impair my view of this exquisite spectacle. As thrown,
after several reflections, upon the mirror destined afterwards to
measure the image of the solar disc, the apparition of the halo was of
course much less bright, and its outer boundary ill defined for
accurate measurement. The inner edge, where the light was bounded by
the black disc of the Earth, shaded off much more quickly from dark
reddish purple into absolute blackness.

And now a surprise, the first I had encountered, awaited me. I
registered the gravity as shown by the barycrite; and, extinguishing
the electric lamp, measured repeatedly the semi-diameter of the Earth
and of the halo around her upon the discometer, the inner edge of the
latter affording the measurement of the black disc, which of itself,
of course, cast no reflection. I saw at once that there was a signal
difference in the two indications, and proceeded carefully to revise
the earth-measurements. On the average of thirteen measures the halo
was about 87", or nearly 1½' in breadth, the disc, allowing for the
twilight round its edge or limb, about 2° 50'. If the refracting
atmosphere were some 65 miles in depth, these proportions were correct.
Relighting the lamp, I worked out severally on paper the results
indicated by the two instruments. The discometer gave a distance,
roughly speaking, of 40 terrestrial radii, or 160,000 miles. The
barycrite should have shown a gravity, due to the Earth's attraction,
not 40 but 1600 times less than that prevailing on the Earth's surface;
or, to put it in a less accurate form, a weight of 100 lbs. should have
weighed an ounce. It did weigh two ounces, the gravity being not one
1600th but one 800th of terrestrial gravity, or just double what, I
expected. I puzzled myself over this matter longer, probably, than the
intelligent reader will do: the explanation being obvious, like that of
many puzzles that bewilder our minds intensely, only to humiliate us
proportionately when the solution is found—a solution as simple as that
of Columbus's egg-riddle. At length, finding that the lunar angle—the
apparent position of the Moon—confirmed the reading of the discometer,
giving the same apogaic distance or elevation, I supposed that the
barycrite must be out of order or subject to some unsuspected law of
which future observations might afford evidence and explanation, and
turned to other subjects of interest.

Looking through the upper window on the left, I was struck by the
rapid enlargement of a star which, when I first noticed it, might be
of the third magnitude, but which in less than a minute attained the
first, and in a minute more was as large as the planet Jupiter when
seen with a magnifying power of one hundred diameters.

Its disc, however, had no continuous outline; and as it approached I
perceived that it was an irregular mass of whose size I could form not
even a conjectural estimate, since its distance must be absolutely
uncertain. Its brilliancy grew fainter in proportion to the
enlargement as it approached, proving that its light was reflected;
and as it passed me, apparently in the direction of the earth, I had a
sufficiently distinct view of it to know that it was a mainly metallic
mass, certainly of some size, perhaps four, perhaps twenty feet in
diameter, and apparently composed chiefly of iron; showing a more or
less blistered surface, but with angles sharper and faces more
regularly defined than most of those which have been found upon the
earth's surface—as if the shape of the latter might be due in part to
the conflagration they undergo in passing at such tremendous speed
through the atmosphere, or, in an opposite sense, to the fractures
caused by the shock of their falling. Though I made no attempt to
count the innumerable stars in the midst of which I appeared to float,
I was convinced that their number was infinitely greater than that
visible to the naked eye on the brightest night. I remembered how
greatly the inexperienced eye exaggerates the number of stars visible
from the Earth, since poets, and even olden observers, liken their
number to that of the sands on the seashore; whereas the patient work
of map and catalogue makers has shown that there are but a few
thousands visible in the whole heavens to the keenest unaided sight. I
suppose that I saw a hundred times that number. In one word, the
sphere of darkness in which I floated seemed to be filled with points
of light, while the absolute blackness that surrounded them, the
absence of the slightest radiation, or illumination of space at large,
was strange beyond expression to an eye accustomed to that diffusion
of light which is produced by the atmosphere. I may mention here that
the recognition of the constellations was at first exceedingly
difficult. On Earth we see so few stars in any given portion of the
heavens, that one recognises without an effort the figure marked out
by a small number of the brightest amongst them; while in my position
the multitude was so great that only patient and repeated effort
enabled me to separate from the rest those peculiarly brilliant
luminaries by which we are accustomed to define such constellations as
Orion or the Bear, to say nothing of those minor or more arbitrarily
drawn figures which contain few stars of the second magnitude. The eye
had no instinctive sense of distance; any star might have been within
a stone's throw. I need hardly observe that, while on one hand the
motion of the vessel was absolutely imperceptible, there was, on the
other, no change of position among the stars which could enable me to
verify the fact that I was moving, much less suggest it to the senses.
The direction of every recognisable star was the same as on Earth, as
it appears the same from the two extremities of the Earth's orbit, 19
millions of miles apart. Looking from any one window, I could see no
greater space of the heavens than in looking through a similar
aperture on Earth. What was novel and interesting in my stellar
prospect was, not merely that I could see those stars north and south
which are never visible from the same point on Earth, except in the
immediate neighbourhood of the Equator; but that, save on the small
space concealed by the Earth's disc, I could, by moving from window to
window, survey the entire heavens, looking at one minute upon the
stars surrounding the vernal, and at another, by changing my position,
upon those in the neighbourhood of the autumnal equinox. By little
more than a turn of my head I could see in one direction Polaris
(_alpha_ Ursæ Minoris) with the Great Bear, and in another the
Southern Cross, the Ship, and the Centaur.

About 23h. 30m., near the close of the first day, I again inspected
the barycrite. It showed ¹⁄₁₁₀₀ of terrestrial gravity, an incredibly
small change from the ¹⁄₈₀₀ recorded at 19h., since it implied a
progress proportionate only to the square root of the difference. The
observation indicated, if the instrument could be trusted, an advance
of only 18,000 miles. It was impossible that the Astronaut had not by
this time attained a very much greater speed than 4000 miles an hour,
and a greater distance from the Earth than 33 terrestrial radii, or
132,000 miles. Moreover, the barycrite itself had given at 19h. a
distance of 28½ radii, and a speed far greater than that which upon
its showing had since been maintained. Extinguishing the lamp, I found
that the Earth's diameter on the discometer measured 2° 3′ 52″ (?).
This represented a gain of some 90,000 miles; much more approximate
to that which, judging by calculation, I ought to have accomplished
during the last four hours and a half, if my speed approached to that
I had estimated. I inspected the cratometer, which indicated a force
as great as that with which I had started,—a force which should by
this time have given me a speed of at least 22,000 miles an hour. At
last the solution of the problem flashed upon me, suggested by the
very extravagance of the contradictions. Not only did the barycrite
contradict the discometer and the reckoning but it contradicted
itself; since it was impossible that under one continuous impulsation
I should have traversed 28½ radii of the Earth in the first eighteen
hours and no more than 4½ in the next four and a half hours. In truth,
the barycrite was effected by two separate attractions,—that of the
Earth and that of the Sun, as yet operating almost exactly in the same
direction. At first the attraction of the former was so great that that
of the Sun was no more perceived than upon the Earth's surface. But
as I rose, and the Earth's attraction diminished in proportion to the
square of the distance from her centre—which was doubled at 8000 miles,
quadrupled at 16,000, and so on—the Sun's attraction, which was not
perceptibly affected by differences so small in proportion to his vast
distance of 95,000,000 miles, became a more and more important element
in the total gravity. If, as I calculated, I had by 19h. attained a
distance from the earth of 160,000 miles, the attractions of Earth and
Sun were by that time pretty nearly equal; and hence the phenomenon
which had so puzzled me, that the gravitation, as indicated by the
barycrite, was exactly double that which, bearing in mind the Earth's
attraction alone, I had calculated. From this point forward the Sun's
attraction was the factor which mainly caused such weight as still
existed; a change of position which, doubling my distance from the
Earth, reduced her influence to one-fourth, not perceptibly affecting
that of a body four hundred times more remote. A short calculation
showed that, this fact borne in mind, the indication of the barycrite
substantially agreed with that of the discometer, and that I was in
fact very nearly where I supposed, that is, a little farther than the
Moon's farthest distance from the Earth. It did not follow that I had
crossed the orbit of the Moon; and if I had, she was at that time too
far off to exercise a serious influence on my course. I adjusted the
helm and betook myself to rest, the second day of my journey having
already commenced.




CHAPTER III - THE UNTRAVELLED DEEP.


Rising at 5h., I observed a drooping in the leaves of my garden, and
especially of the larger shrubs and plants, for which I was not wholly
unprepared, but which might entail some inconvenience if, failing
altogether, they should cease to absorb the gases generated from
buried waste, to consume which they had been planted. Besides this, I
should, of course, lose the opportunity of transplanting them to Mars,
though I had more hope of acclimatising seedlings raised from the seed
I carried with me than plants which had actually begun their life on
the surface of the Earth. The failure I ascribed naturally to the
known connection between the action of gravity and the circulation of
the sap; though, as I had experienced no analogous inconvenience in my
own person, I had hoped that this would not seriously affect
vegetation. I was afraid to try the effect of more liberal watering,
the more so that already the congelation of moisture upon the glasses
from the internal air, dry as the latter had been kept, was a sensible
annoyance—an annoyance which would have become an insuperable trouble
had I not taken so much pains, by directing the thermic currents upon
the walls, to keep the internal temperature, in so far as comfort
would permit—it had now fallen to 4° C.—as near as possible to that
of the inner surface of the walls and windows. A careful use of the
thermometer indicated that the metallic surface of the former was now
nearly zero C., or 32° F. The inner surface of the windows was somewhat
colder, showing that the crystal was more pervious to heat than the
walls, with their greater thickness, their outer and inner lining of
metal, and massive interior of concrete. I directed a current from the
thermogene upon either division of the garden, hoping thus to protect
the plants from whatever injury they might receive from the cold.
Somewhat later, perceiving that the drooping still continued, I
resolved upon another experiment, and arranging an apparatus of copper
wire beneath the soil, so as to bring the extremities in immediate
contact with their roots, I directed through these wires a prolonged
feeble current of electricity; by which, as I had hoped rather than
expected, the plants were after a time materially benefited, and to
which I believe I owed it that they had not all perished long before
the termination of my voyage.

It would be mere waste of space and time were I to attempt anything
like a journal of the weeks I spent in the solitude of this artificial
planet. As matter of course, the monotony of a voyage through space is
in general greater than that of a voyage across an ocean like the
Atlantic, where no islands and few ships are to be encountered. It was
necessary to be very frequently, if not constantly, on the look-out
for possible incidents of interest in a journey so utterly novel
through regions which the telescope can but imperfectly explore. It
was difficult, therefore, to sit down to a book, or even to pursue any
necessary occupation unconnected with the actual conduct of the
vessel, with uninterrupted attention. My eyes, the only sense organs I
could employ, were constantly on the alert; but, of course, by far the
greater portion of my time passed without a single new object or
occasion of remark. That a journey so utterly without precedent or
parallel, in which so little could be anticipated or provided for,
through regions absolutely untraversed and very nearly unknown, should
be monotonous, may seem strange. But in truth the novelties of the
situation, such as they were, though intensely striking and
interesting, were each in turn speedily examined, realised, and, so to
speak, exhausted; and this once done, there was no greater occupation
to the mind in the continuance of strange than in that of familiar
scenery. The infinitude of surrounding blackness, filled as it were
with points of light more or less brilliant, when once its effects had
been scrutinised, and when nothing more remained to be noted, afforded
certainly a more agreeable, but scarcely a more interesting or
absorbing, outlook than the dead grey circle of sea, the dead grey
hemisphere of cloud, which form the prospect from the deck of a packet
in mid-Atlantic; while of change without or incident in the vessel
herself there was, of course, infinitely less than is afforded in an
ocean voyage by the variations of weather, not to mention the solace
of human society. Everything around me, except in the one direction in
which the Earth's disc still obscured the Sun, remained unchanged for
hours and days; and the management of my machinery required no more
than an occasional observation of my instruments and a change in the
position of the helm, which occupied but a few minutes some half-dozen
times in the twenty-four hours. There was not even the change of night
and day, of sun and stars, of cloud or clear sky. Were I to describe
the manner in which each day's leisure was spent, I should bore my
readers even more than—they will perhaps be surprised by the
confession—I was bored myself.

My sleep was of necessity more or less broken. I wished to have eight
hours of rest, since, though seven of continuous sleep might well have
sufficed me, even if my brain had been less quiet and unexcited during
the rest of the twenty-four, it was impossible for me to enjoy that
term of unbroken slumber. I therefore decided to divide my sleep into
two portions of rather more than four hours each, to be taken as a
rule after noon and after midnight; or rather, since noon and midnight
had no meaning for me, from 12h. to 16h. and from 24h. to 4.h. But of
course sleep and everything else, except the necessary management of
the machine, must give way to the chances of observation; it would be
better to remain awake for forty-eight hours at a stretch than to miss
any important phenomenon the period of whose occurrence could be even
remotely calculated.

At 8h., I employed for the first time the apparatus which I may call
my window telescope, to observe, from a position free from the
difficulties inflicted on terrestrial astronomers by the atmosphere,
all the celestial objects within my survey. As I had anticipated, the
absence of atmospheric disturbance and diffusion of light was of
extreme advantage. In the first place, I ascertained by the barycrite
and the discometer my distance from the Earth, which appeared to be
about 120 terrestrial radii. The light of the halo was of course very
much narrower than when I first observed it, and its scintillations or
coruscations no longer distinctly visible. The Moon presented an
exquisitely fine thread of light, but no new object of interest on the
very small portion of her daylight hemisphere turned towards me. Mars
was somewhat difficult to observe, being too near what may be called
my zenith. But the markings were far more distinct than they appear,
with greater magnifying powers than I employed, upon the Earth. In
truth, I should say that the various disadvantages due to the
atmosphere deprive the astronomer of at least one-half of the
available light-collecting power of his telescope, and consequently of
the defining power of the eye-piece; that with a 200 glass he sees
less than a power of 100 reveals to an eye situated in space; though,
from the nature of the lens through which I looked, I cannot speak
with certainty upon this point. With a magnifying power of 300 the
polar spots of Mars were distinctly visible and perfectly defined.
They were, I thought, less white than they appeared from the Earth,
but their colour was notably different from that of the planet's
general surface, differing almost as widely from the orange hue of
what I supposed to be land as from the greyish blue of the water. The
orange was, I thought, deeper than it appears through a telescope of
similar power on Earth. The seas were distinctly grey rather than
blue, especially when, by covering the greater part of the field, I
contrived for a moment to observe a sea alone, thus eliminating the
effect of contrast. The bands of Jupiter in their turn were more
notably distinct; their variety of colour as well as the contrast of
light and shade much more definite, and their irregularities more
unmistakable. A satellite was approaching the disc, and this afforded
me an opportunity of realising with especial clearness the difference
between observation through seventy or a hundred miles of terrestrial
atmosphere outside the object glass and observation in space. The two
discs were perfectly rounded and separately discernible until they
touched. Moreover, I was able to distinguish upon one of the darker
bands the disc of the satellite itself, while upon a lighter band its
round black shadow was at the same time perfectly defined. This
wonderfully clear presentation of one of the most interesting of
astronomical phenomena so absorbed my attention that I watched the
satellite and shadow during their whole course, though the former,
passing after a time on to a light band, became comparatively
indistinct. The moment, however, that the outer edge passed off the
disc of Jupiter, its outline became perfectly visible against the
black background of sky. What was still more novel was the occultation
for some little time of a star, apparently of the tenth magnitude, not
by the planet but by the satellite, almost immediately after it passed
off the disc of the former. Whether the star actually disappeared at
once, as if instantaneously extinguished, or whether, as I thought at
the moment, it remained for some tenth of a second partially visible,
as if refracted by an atmosphere belonging to the satellite, I will
not venture to say. The bands and rings of Saturn, the division
between the two latter, and the seven satellites, were also perfectly
visible, with a distinctness that a much greater magnifying power
would hardly have attained under terrestrial conditions. I was
perplexed by two peculiarities, not, so far as I know, hitherto [5]
mentioned by astronomers. The circumference did not appear to present
an even curvature.

I mean that, apart from the polar compression, the shape seemed as if
the spheroid were irregularly squeezed; so that though not broken by
projection or indentation, the limb did not present the regular
quasi-circular curvature exhibited in the focus of our telescopes.
Also, between the inner ring and the planet, with a power of 500, I
discerned what appeared to be a dark purplish ring, semi-transparent,
so that through it the bright surface of Saturn might be discerned as
through a veil. Mercury shone brightly several degrees outside the
halo surrounding the Earth's black disc; and Venus was also visible;
but in neither case did my observations allow me to ascertain anything
that has not been already noted by astronomers. The dim form of Uranus
was better defined than I had previously seen it, but no marking of
any kind was perceptible.

Rising from my second, or, so to speak, midday rest, and having
busied myself for some little time with what I may call my household
and garden duties, I observed the discometer at 1h. (or 5 P.M.). It
indicated about two hundred terrestrial radii of elevation. I had,
of course, from the first been falling slightly behind the Earth in
her orbital motion, and was no longer exactly in opposition; that is
to say, a line drawn from the Astronaut to the Earth's centre was no
longer a prolongation of that joining the centres of the Earth and
Sun. The effect of this divergence was now perceptible. The earthly
corona was unequal in width, and to the westward was very distinctly
brightened, while on the other side it was narrow and comparatively
faint. While watching this phenomenon through the lower lens, I
thought that I could perceive behind or through the widest portion
of the halo a white light, which at first I mistook for one of those
scintillations that had of late become scarcely discernible. But after
a time it extended visibly beyond the boundary of the halo itself, and
I perceived that the edge of the Sun's disc had come at last into view.
It was but a minute and narrow crescent, but was well worth watching.
The brightening and broadening of the halo at this point I perceived to
be due, not to the Sun's effect upon the atmosphere that produced it,
but chiefly to the twilight now brightening on that limb of the Earth's
disc; or rather to the fact that a small portion of that part of the
Earth's surface, where, if the Sun were not visible, he was but a very
little below the horizon, had been turned towards me. I saw through
the telescope first a tiny solar crescent of intense brightness, then
the halo proper, now exceedingly narrow, and then what looked like
a silver terrestrial crescent, but a mere thread, finer and shorter
than any that the Moon ever displays even to telescopic observers on
Earth; since, when such a minute portion of her illuminated surface
is turned towards the Earth, it is utterly extinguished to our eyes
by the immediate vicinity of the Sun, as was soon the case with the
terrestrial crescent in question. I watched long and with intense
interest the gradual change, but I was called away from it by a
consideration of no little practical moment. I must now be moving
at a rate of nearly, if not quite, 40,000 miles an hour, or about a
million miles per diem. It was not my intention, for reasons I shall
presently explain, ever greatly to exceed this rate; and if I meant
to limit myself to a fixed rate of speed, it was time to diminish the
force of the apergic current, as otherwise before its reduction could
take effect I should have attained an impulse greater than I desired,
and which could not be conveniently or easily diminished when once
reached. Quitting, therefore, though reluctantly, my observation of
the phenomena below me, I turned to the apergion, and was occupied for
some two or three hours in gradually reducing the force as measured by
the cratometer attached to the downward conductor, and measuring with
extreme care the very minute effect produced upon the barycrite and the
discometer. Even the difference between 200 and 201 radii of elevation
or apogaic distance was not easily perceptible on either. It took, of
course, much more minute observation and a much longer time to test
the effect produced by the regulation of the movement, since whether I
travelled forty, forty-five, or forty-two thousand miles in the course
of one hour made scarcely any difference in the diameter of the Earth's
disc, still less, for reasons above given, in the gravity. By midnight,
however, I was satisfied that I had not attained quite 1,000,000 miles,
or 275 terrestrial radii; also that my speed was not greater than
45,000 miles (11¼ radii) per hour, and was not, I thought, increasing.
Of this last point, however, I could better satisfy myself at the end
of my four hours' rest, to which I now betook myself.

I woke about 4h. 30m., and on a scrutiny of the instruments, felt
satisfied that I was not far out in my calculations. A later hour,
however, would afford a more absolute certainty. I was about to turn
again to the interesting work of observation through the lens in the
floor, when my attention was diverted by the sight of something like
a whitish cloud visible through the upper window on my left hand.
Examined by the telescope, its widest diameter might be at most ten
degrees. It was faintly luminous, presenting an appearance very closely
resembling that of a star cluster or nebula just beyond the power of
resolution. As in many nebulae, there was a visible concentration
in one part; but this did not occupy the centre, but a position
more resembling that of the nucleus of a small tailless comet. The
cloudlet might be a distant comet, it might be a less distant body of
meteors clustering densely in some particular part of their orbit;
and, unfortunately, I was not likely to solve the problem. Gradually
the nebula changed its position, but not its form, seeming to move
downwards and towards the stern of my vessel, as if I were passing it
without approaching nearer. By the time that I was satisfied of this,
hunger and even faintness warned me that I must not delay preparing my
breakfast. When I had finished this meal and fulfilled some necessary
tasks, practical and arithmetical, the hand of the chronometer
indicated the eighth hour of my third day. I turned again somewhat
eagerly to the discometer, which showed an apparent distance of 360
terrestrial radii, and consequently a movement which had not materially
varied from the rate of 11¼ radii per hour. By this time the diameter
of the Earth was not larger in appearance than about 19', less than
two-thirds that of the Sun; and she consequently appeared as a black
disc covering somewhat more than one-third of his entire surface,
but by no means concentrical. The halo had of course completely
disappeared; but with the vernier it was possible to discern a narrow
band or line of hazy grey around the black limb of the planet. She was
moving, as seen from the Astronaut, very slightly to the north, and
more decidedly, though very slowly, to the eastward; the one motion due
to my deliberately chosen direction in space, the other to the fact
that as my orbit enlarged I was falling, though as yet slowly, behind
her. The sun now shone through, the various windows, and, reflected
from the walls, maintained a continuous daylight within the Astronaut,
as well diffused as by the atmosphere of Earth, strangely contrasting
the star-spangled darkness outside.

At the beginning as at the end of my voyage, I steered a distinct
course, governed by considerations quite different from those which
controlled the main direction of my voyage. Thus far I had simply
risen straight from the Earth in a direction somewhat to the
southward, but on the whole "in opposition," or right away from the
Sun. So, at the conclusion of my journey, I should have to devote some
days to a gradual descent upon Mars, exactly reversing the process of
my ascent from the Earth. But between these two periods I had
comparatively little to do with either planet, my course being
governed by the Sun, and its direction and rate being uniform. I
wished to reach Mars at the moment of opposition, and during the whole
of the journey to keep the Earth between myself and the Sun, for a
reason which may not at first be obvious. The moment of opposition is
not necessarily that at which Mars is nearest to the Earth, but is
sufficiently so for practical calculation. At that moment, according
to the received measurement of planetary distances, the two would be
more than 40 millions of miles apart. In the meantime the Earth,
travelling on an interior or smaller orbit, and also at a greater
absolute speed, was gaining on Mars. The Astronaut, moving at the
Earth's rate under an impulse derived from the Earth's revolution
round the Sun (that due to her rotation on her own axis having been
got rid of, as aforesaid), travelled in an orbit constantly widening,
so that, while gaining on Mars, I gained on him less than did the
Earth, and was falling behind her. Had I used the apergy only to drive
me directly outward from the Sun, I should move under the impulse
derived from the Earth about 1,600,000 miles a day, or 72 millions of
miles in forty-five days, in the direction common to the two planets.
The effect of the constantly widening orbit would be much as if the
whole motion took place on one midway between those of the Earth and
Mars, say 120 millions of miles from the Sun. The arc described on
this orbit would be equivalent to 86 millions of miles on that of
Mars. The entire arc of his orbit between the point opposite to that
occupied by the Earth when I started and the point of opposition—the
entire distance I had to gain as measured along his path—was about
116 millions of miles; so that, trusting to the terrestrial impulse
alone, I should be some 30 millions behindhand at the critical moment.
The apergic force must make up for this loss of ground, while driving
me in a direction, so to speak, at right angles with that of the
orbit, or along its radius, straight outward from the Sun, forty odd
millions of miles in the same time. If I succeeded in this, I should
reach the orbit of Mars at the point and at the moment of opposition,
and should attain Mars himself. But in this I might fail, and I should
then find myself under the sole influence of the Sun's attraction;
able indeed to resist it, able gradually to steer in any direction
away from it, but hardly able to overtake a planet that should lie far
out of my line of advance or retreat, while moving at full speed away
from me. In order to secure a chance of retreat, it was desirable as
long as possible to keep the Earth between the Astronaut and the Sun;
while steering for that point in space where Mars would lie at the
moment when, as seen from the centre of the Earth, he would be most
nearly opposite the Sun,—would cross the meridian at midnight. It was
by these considerations that the course I henceforward steered was
determined. By a very simple calculation, based on the familiar
principle of the parallelogram of forces, I gave to the apergic
current a force and direction equivalent to a daily motion of about
750,000 miles in the orbital, and rather more than a million in the
radial line. I need hardly observe that it would not be to the apergic
current alone, but to a combination of that current with the orbital
impulse received at first from the Earth, that my progress and course
would be due. The latter was the stronger influence; the former only
was under my control, but it would suffice to determine, as I might
from time to time desire, the resultant of the combination. The only
obvious risk of failure lay in the chance that, my calculations
failing or being upset, I might reach the desired point too soon or
too late. In either case, I should be dangerously far from Mars,
beyond his orbit or within it, at the time when I should come into a
line with him and the Sun; or, again, putting the same mischance in
another form, behind him or before him when I attained his orbit. But
I trusted to daily observation of his position, and verification of my
"dead reckoning" thereby, to find out any such danger in time to avert
it.

The displacement of the Earth on the Sun's face proved it to be
necessary that the apergic current should be directed against the
latter in order to govern my course as I desired, and to recover the
ground I had lost in respect to the orbital motion. I hoped for a
moment that this change in the action of the force would settle a
problem we had never been able to determine. Our experiments proved
that apergy acts in a straight line when once collected in and directed
along a conductor, and does not radiate, like other forces, from a
centre in all directions. It is of course this radiation— diffusing
the effect of light, heat, or gravity over the surface of a sphere,
which surface is proportionate to the square of the radius—that causes
these forces to operate with an energy inversely proportionate, not
to the distance, but to its square. We had no reason to think that
apergy, exempt as it is from this law, would be at all diminished by
distance; and this view the rate of acceleration as I rose from the
Earth had confirmed, and my entire experience has satisfied me that
it is correct. None of our experiments, however, had indicated, or
could well indicate, at what rate this force can travel through space;
nor had I yet obtained any light upon this point. From the very first
the current had been continuous, the only interruption taking place
when I was not five hundred miles from the Earth's surface. Over so
small a distance as that, the force would move so instantaneously
that no trace of the interruption would be perceptible in the motion
of the Astronaut. Even now the total interruption of the action of
apergy for a considerable time would not affect the rate at which I
was already moving. It was possible, however, that if the current had
been hitherto wholly intercepted by the Earth, it might take so long a
time in reaching the Sun that the interval between the movement of the
helm and the response of the Astronaut's course thereto might afford
some indication of the time occupied by the current in traversing the
96½ millions of miles which parted me from the Sun. My hope, however,
was wholly disappointed. I could neither be sure that the action was
instantaneous, nor that it was otherwise.

At the close of the third day I had gained, as was indicated by the
instruments, something more than two millions of miles in a direct
line from the Sun; and for the future I might, and did, reckon on a
steady progress of about one and a quarter million miles daily under
the apergic force alone—a gain in a line directly outward from the
Sun of about one million. Henceforward I shall not record my
observations, except where they implied an unexpected or altered
result.

On the sixth day, I perceived another nebula, and on this occasion in
a more promising direction. It appeared, from its gradual movement, to
lie almost exactly in my course, so that if it were what I suspected,
and were not at any great distance from me, I must pass either near or
through it, and it would surely explain what had perplexed and baffled
me in the case of the former nebula. At this distance the nature of
the cloudlet was imperceptible to the naked eye. The window telescope
was not adjustable to an object which I could not bring conveniently
within the field of view of the lenses. In a few hours the nebula so
changed its form and position, that, being immediately over the
portion of the roof between the front or bow lens and that in the
centre of the roof, its central section was invisible; but the
extremities of that part which I had seen in the first instance
through the upper plane window of the bow were now clearly visible
from the upper windows of either side. What had at first been a mere
greatly elongated oval, with a species of rapidly diminishing tail at
each extremity, had now become an arc spanning no inconsiderable part
of the space above me, narrowing rapidly as it extended downwards and
sternwards. Presently it came in view through the upper lens, but did
not obscure in the least the image of the stars which were then
visible in the metacompass. I very soon ascertained that the cloudlet
consisted, as I had supposed in the former case, of a multitude of
points of light less brilliant than the stars, the distance between
which became constantly wider, but which for some time were separately
so small as to present no disc that any magnifying power at my command
could render measurable. In the meantime, the extremities visible
through the other windows were constantly widening out till lost in
the spangled darkness. By and by, it became impossible with the naked
eye to distinguish the individual points from the smaller stars; and
shortly after this the nearest began to present discs of appreciable
size but somewhat irregular shape. I had now no doubt that I was about
to pass through one of those meteoric rings which our most advanced
astronomers believe to exist in immense numbers throughout space, and
to the Earth's contact with or approach to which they ascribe the
showers of falling stars visible in August and November. Ere long,
one after another of these bodies passed rapidly before my sight, at
distances varying probably from five yards to five thousand miles.
Where to test the distance was impossible, anything like accurate
measurement was equally out of the question; but my opinion is, that
the diameters of the nearest ranged from ten inches to two hundred
feet. One only passed so near that its absolute size could be judged
by the marks upon its face. This was a rock-like mass, presenting at
many places on the surface distinct traces of metallic veins or
blotches, rudely ovoid in form, but with a number of broken surfaces,
one or two of which reflected the light much more brilliantly than
others. The weight of this one meteoroid was too insignificant as
compared with that of the Astronaut seriously to disturb my course.
Fortunately for me, I passed so nearly through the centre of the
aggregation that its attraction as a whole was nearly inoperative. So
far as I could judge, the meteors in that part of the ring through
which I passed were pretty evenly distributed; and as from the
appearance of the first which passed my window to the disappearance of
the last four hours elapsed, I conceived that the diameter of the
congeries, measured in the direction of my path, which seemed to be
nearly in the diameter of their orbit, was about 180,000 miles, and
probably the perpendicular depth was about the same.

I may mention here, though somewhat out of place, to avoid
interrupting the narrative of my descent upon Mars, the only
interesting incident that occurred during the latter days of my
journey—the gradual passage of the Earth off the face of the Sun. For
some little time after this the Earth was entirely invisible; but
later, looking through the telescope adjusted to the lens on that
side, I discerned two very minute and bright crescents, which, from
their direction and position, were certainly those of the Earth and
Moon, indeed could hardly be anything else.

Towards the thirtieth day of my voyage I was disturbed by the
conflicting indications obtained from different instruments and
separate observations. The general result came to this, that the
discometer, where it should have indicated a distance of 333, actually
gave 347. But if my speed had increased, or I had overestimated the
loss by changes of direction, Mars should have been larger in equal
proportion. This, however, was not the case. Supposing my reckoning to
be right, and I had no reason to think it otherwise, except the
indication of the discometer, the Sun's disc ought to have diminished
in the proportion of 95 to 15, whereas the diminution was in the
proportion of 9 to 1. So far as the barycrite could be trusted, its
very minute indications confirmed those of the discometer; and the
only conclusion I could draw, after much thought and many intricate
calculations, was that the distance of 95 millions of miles between
the Earth and the Sun, accepted, though not very confidently, by all
terrestrial astronomers, is an over-estimate; and that, consequently,
all the other distances of the solar system have been equally
overrated. Mars consequently would be smaller, but also his distance
considerably less, than I had supposed. I finally concluded that the
solar distance of the Earth was less than 9 millions of miles, instead
of more than 95. This would involve, of course, a proportionate
diminution in the distance I had to traverse, while it did not imply
an equal error in the reckoning of my speed, which had at first been
calculated from the Earth's disc, and not from that of the Sun. Hence,
continuing my course unchanged, I should arrive at the orbit of Mars
some days earlier than intended, and at a point behind that occupied
by the planet, and yet farther behind the one I aimed at. Prolonged
observation and careful calculation had so fully satisfied me of the
necessity of the corrections in question, that I did not hesitate to
alter my course accordingly, and to prepare for a descent on the
thirty-ninth instead of the forty-first day. I had, of course, to
prepare for the descent very long before I should come within the
direct influence of the attraction of Mars. This would not prevail
over the Sun's attraction till I had come within a little more than
100,000 miles of the surface, and this distance would not allow for
material reduction of my speed, even were I at once to direct the
whole force of the apergic current against the planet. I estimated
that arriving within some two millions of miles of him, with a speed
of 45,000 miles per hour, and then directing the whole force of the
current in his direction, I should arrive at his surface at a speed
nearly equal to that at which I had ascended from the Earth. I knew
that I could spare force enough to make up for any miscalculation
possible, or at least probable. Of course any serious error might be
fatal. I was exposed to two dangers; perhaps to three: but to none
which I had not fully estimated before even preparing for my voyage.
If I should fail to come near enough to the goal of my journey, and
yet should go on into space, or if, on the other hand, I should stop
short, the Astronaut might become an independent planet, pursuing an
orbit nearly parallel to that of the Earth; in which case I should
perish of starvation. It was conceivable that I might, in attempting
to avert this fate, fall upon the Sun, though this seemed exceedingly
improbable, requiring a combination of accidents very unlikely to
occur. On the other hand, I might by possibility attain my point, and
yet, failing properly to calculate the rate of descent, be dashed to
pieces upon the surface of Mars. Of this, however, I had very little
fear, the tremendous power of the apergy having been so fully proved
that I believed that nothing but some disabling accident to
myself—such as was hardly to be feared in the absence of gravitation,
and with the extreme simplicity of the machinery I employed—could
prevent my being able, when I became aware of the danger, to employ in
time a sufficient force to avert it. The first of these perils, then,
was the graver one, perhaps the only grave one, and certainly to my
imagination it was much the most terrible. The idea of perishing of
want in the infinite solitude of space, and being whirled round for
ever the dead denizen of a planet one hundred feet in diameter, had in
it something even more awful than grotesque.

On the thirty-ninth morning of my voyage, so far as I could calculate
by the respective direction and size of the Sun and of Mars, I was
within about 1,900,000 miles from the latter. I proceeded without
hesitation to direct the whole force of the current permitted to
emerge from the apergion directly against the centre of the planet.
His diameter increased with great rapidity, till at the end of the
first day I found myself within one million of miles of his surface.
His diameter subtended about 15', and his disc appeared about
one-fourth the size of the Moon. Examined through the telescope, it
presented a very different appearance from that either of the Earth or
of her satellite. It resembled the former in having unmistakably air
and water. But, unlike the Earth, the greater portion of its surface
seemed to be land; and, instead of continents surrounded by water, it
presented a number of separate seas, nearly all of them land-locked.
Around the snow-cap of each pole was a belt of water; around this,
again, a broader belt of continuous land; and outside this, forming
the northern and southern boundary between the arctic and temperate
zones, was another broader band of water, connected apparently in one
or two places with the central, or, if one may so call it, equatorial
sea. South of the latter is the one great Martial ocean. The most
striking feature of this new world, as seen from this point, was the
existence of three enormous gulfs, from three to five thousand miles
in length, and apparently varying in breadth from one hundred to seven
hundred miles. In the midst of the principal ocean, but somewhat to
the southward, is an island of unique appearance. It is roughly
circular, and, as I perceived in descending, stands very high, its
table-like summit being some 4000 feet, as I subsequently ascertained,
above the sea-level. Its surface, however, was perfectly
white—scarcely less brilliant, consequently, than an equal area of
the polar icefields. The globe, of course, revolved in some 4-1/ hours
of earthly time, and, as I descended, presented successively every
part of its surface to my view. I speak of descent, but, of course, I
was as yet ascending just as truly as ever, the Sun being visible
through the lens in the floor, and reflected upon the mirror of the
discometer, while Mars was now seen through the upper lens, and his
image received in the mirror of the metacompass. A noteworthy feature
in the meteorology of the planet became apparent during the second day
of the descent. As magnified by the telescope adjusted to the upper
lens, the distinctions of sea and land disappeared from the eastern
and western limbs of the planet; indeed, within 15° or an hour of time
from either. It was plain, therefore, that those regions in which it
was late evening or early morning were hidden from view; and,
independently of the whitish light reflected from them, there could be
little doubt that the obscuration was due to clouds or mists. Had the
whitish light covered the land alone, it might have been attributed to
a snowfall, or, perhaps, even to a very severe hoar frost congealing a
dense moisture. But this last seemed highly improbable; and that mist
or cloud was the true explanation became more and more apparent as,
with a nearer approach, it became possible to discern dimly a broad
expanse of water contrasting the orange tinge of the land through this
annular veil. At 4h. on the second day of the descent, I was about
500,000 miles from Mars, the micrometer verifying, by the increased
angle subtended by the diameter, my calculated rate of approach. On
the next day I was able to sleep in security, and to devote my
attention to the observation of the planet's surface, for at its close
I should be still 15,000 miles from Mars, and consequently beyond the
distance at which his attraction would predominate over that of the
Sun. To my great surprise, in the course of this day I discerned two
small discs, one on each side of the planet, moving at a rate which
rendered measurement impossible, but evidently very much smaller than
any satellite with which astronomers are acquainted, and so small that
their non-discovery by terrestrial telescopes was not extraordinary.
They were evidently very minute, whether ten, twenty, or fifty miles
in diameter I could not say; neither of them being likely, so far as I
could calculate, to come at any part of my descent very near the
Astronaut, and the rapidity of their movement carrying them across the
field, even with the lowest power of my telescopes, too fast for
measurement. That they were Martial moons, however, there could be no
doubt.

About 10h. on the last day of the descent, the effect of Mars'
attraction, which had for some time so disturbed the position of the
Astronaut as to take his disc completely out of the field of the
meta-compass, became decidedly predominant over that of the Sun. I had
to change the direction of the apergic current first to the left-hand
conductor, and afterwards, as the greater weight of the floor turned
the Astronaut completely over, bringing the planet immediately below
it, to the downward one. I was, of course, approaching Mars on the
daylight side, and nearly in the centre. This, however, did not
exactly suit me. During the whole of this day it was impossible that I
should sleep for a minute; since if at any point I should find that I
had miscalculated my rate of descent, or if any other unforeseen
accident should occur, immediate action would be necessary to prevent
a shipwreck, which must without doubt be fatal. It was very likely
that I should be equally unable to sleep during the first twenty-four
hours of my sojourn upon Mars, more especially should he be inhabited,
and should my descent be observed. It was, therefore, my policy to
land at some point where the Sun was setting, and to enjoy rest during
such part of the twelve hours of the Martial night as should not be
employed in setting my vessel in order and preparing to evacuate it. I
should have to ascertain exactly the pressure of the Martial
atmosphere, so as not to step too suddenly from a dense into what was
probably a very light one. If possible, I intended to land upon the
summit of a mountain, so high as to be untenanted and of difficult
access. At the same time it would not do to choose the highest point
of a very lofty range, since both the cold and the thinness of the air
might in such a place be fatal. I wished, of course, to leave the
Astronaut secure, and, if not out of reach, yet not within easy reach;
otherwise it would have been a simple matter to watch my opportunity
and descend in the dark from my first landing-place by the same means
by which I had made the rest of my voyage.

At 18h. I was within 8000 miles of the surface, and could observe Mars
distinctly as a world, and no longer as a star. The colour, so
remarkable a feature in his celestial appearance, was almost equally
perceptible at this moderate elevation. The seas are not so much blue
as grey. Masses of land reflected a light between yellow and orange,
indicating, as I thought, that orange must be as much the predominant
colour of vegetation as green upon Earth. As I came still lower, and
only parts of the disc were visible at once, and these through the
side and end windows, this conviction was more and more strongly
impressed upon my mind. What, however, was beyond denial was, that if
the polar ice and snow were not so purely and distinctly white as they
appear at a distance upon Earth, they were yet to a great extent
devoid of the yellow tinge that preponderated everywhere else. The
most that could be said was, that whereas on Earth the snow is of that
white which we consider absolute, and call, as such, snow-white, but
which really has in it a very slight preponderance of blue, upon Mars
the polar caps are rather cream-white, or of that white, so common in
our flowers, which has in it an equally slight tinge of yellow. On the
shore, or about twenty miles from the shore of the principal sea to
the southward of the equator, and but a few degrees from the equator
itself, I perceived at last a point which appeared peculiarly suitable
for my descent. A very long range of mountains, apparently having an
average height of about 14,000 feet, with some peaks of probably twice
or three times that altitude, stretched for several hundred miles
along the coast, leaving, however, between it and the actual
shore-line an alluvial plain of some twenty to fifty miles across. At
the extremity of this range, and quite detached from it, stood an
isolated mountain of peculiar form, which, as I examined it through
the telescope, appeared to present a surface sufficiently broken and
sloped to permit of descent; while, at the same time, its height and
the character of its summit satisfied me that no one was likely to
inhabit it, and that though I might descend-it in a few hours, to
ascend it on foot from the plain would be a day's journey. Towards
this I directed my course, looking out from time to time carefully for
any symptoms of human habitation or animal life. I made out by degrees
the lines of rivers, mountain slopes covered by great forests,
extensive valleys and plains, seemingly carpeted by a low, dense, rich
vegetation. But my view being essentially of a bird's-eye character,
it was only in those parts that lay upon my horizon that I could
discern clearly the height of any object above the general level; and
as yet, therefore, there might well be houses and buildings,
cultivated fields and divisions, which I could not see.

Before I had satisfied myself whether the planet was or was not
inhabited, I found myself in a position from which its general surface
was veiled by the evening mist, and directly over the mountain in
question, within some twelve miles of its summit. This distance I
descended in the course of a quarter of an hour, and landed without a
shock about half an hour, so far as I could judge, after the Sun had
disappeared below the horizon. The sunset, however, by reason of the
mists, was totally invisible.




CHAPTER IV - A NEW WORLD.


I will not attempt to express the intensity of the mingled emotions
which overcame me as I realised the complete success of the most
stupendous adventure ever proposed or even dreamed by man. I don't
think that any personal vanity, unworthy of the highest lessons I had
received, had much share in my passionate exultation. The conception
was not original; the means were furnished by others; the execution
depended less on a daring and skill, in which any courageous traveller
or man of science knowing what I knew might well have excelled me,
than on the direct and manifest favour of Providence. But this
enterprise, the greatest that man had ever attempted, had in itself a
charm, a sanctity in my eyes that made its accomplishment an
unspeakable satisfaction. I would have laid down life a dozen times
not only to achieve it myself, but even to know that it had been
achieved by others. All that Columbus can have felt when he first set
foot on a new hemisphere I felt in tenfold force as I assured myself
that not, as often before, in dreams, but in very truth and fact, I
had traversed forty million miles of space, and landed in a new world.
Of the perils that might await me I could hardly care to think. They
might be greater in degree.

They could hardly be other in kind, than those which a traveller might
incur in Papua, or Central Africa, or in the North-West Passage. They
could have none of that wholly novel, strange, incalculable character
which sometimes had given to the chances of my etherial voyage a vague
horror and mystery that appalled imagination. For the first time
during my journey I could neither eat nor sleep; yet I must do both. I
might soon meet with difficulties and dangers that would demand all
the resources of perfect physical and mental condition, with heavy
calls on the utmost powers of nerve and muscle. I forced myself,
therefore, to sup and to slumber, resorting for the first time in many
years to the stimulus of brandy for the one purpose, and to the aid of
authypnotism for the other. When I woke it was 8h. by my chronometer,
and, as I inferred, about 5h. after midnight of the Martial meridian
on which I lay. Sleep had given me an appetite for breakfast, and
necessary practical employment calmed the excitement natural to my
situation. My first care, after making ready to quit the Astronaut as
soon as the light around should render it safe to venture into scenes
so much more utterly strange, unfamiliar, and unknown than the wildest
of the yet unexplored deserts of the Earth, was to ascertain the
character of the atmosphere which I was presently to breathe. Did it
contain the oxygen essential to Tellurian lungs? Was it, if capable of
respiration, dense enough to sustain life like mine? I extracted the
plug from the tubular aperture through which I had pumped in the extra
quantity of air that the Astronaut contained; and substituted the
sliding valve I had arranged for the purpose, with a small hole which,
by adjustment to the tube, would give the means of regulating the
air-passage at pleasure. The difficulty of this simple work, and the
tremendous outward pressure of the air, showed that the external
atmosphere was very thin indeed. This I had anticipated. Gravity on
the surface of Mars is less than half what it is on Earth; the total
mass of the planet is as two to fifteen. It was consequently to be
expected that the extent of the Martial atmosphere, and its density
even at the sea-level, would be far less than on the heavier planet.
Rigging the air-pump securely round the aperture, exhausting its
chamber, and permitting the Martial air to fill it, I was glad to find
a pressure equal to that which prevails at a height of 16,000 feet on
Earth. Chemical tests showed the presence of oxygen in somewhat
greater proportion than in the purest air of terrestrial mountains. It
would sustain life, therefore, and without serious injury, if the
change from a dense to a light atmosphere were not too suddenly made.
I determined then gradually to diminish the density of the internal
atmosphere to something not very much greater than that outside. For
this purpose I unrigged the air-pump apparatus, and almost, but not
quite, closed the valve, leaving an aperture about the twentieth part
of an inch in diameter. The silence was instantly broken by a whistle
the shrillest and loudest I had ever heard; the dense compressed
atmosphere of the Astronaut rushing out with a force which actually
created a draught through the whole vessel, to the great discomfiture
of the birds, which roughed their feathers and fluttered about in
dismay. The pressure gauge fell with astonishing rapidity, despite the
minuteness of the aperture; and in a few minutes indicated about 24
barometrical inches. I then checked the exit of the air for a time,
while I proceeded to loosen the cement around the window by which I
had entered, and prepared for my exit. Over a very light flannel
under-vesture I put on a mail-shirt of fine close-woven wire, which
had turned the edge of Mahratta tulwars, repelled the thrust of a
Calabrian stiletto, and showed no mark of three carbine bullets fired
point-blank. Over this I wore a suit of grey broadcloth, and a pair of
strong boots over woollen socks, prepared for cold and damp as well as
for the heat of a sun shining perpendicularly through an Alpine
atmosphere. I had nearly equalised the atmospheric pressure within and
without, at about 17 inches, before the first beams of dawn shone
upward on the ceiling of the Astronaut. A few minutes later I stepped
forth on the platform, some two hundred yards in circumference,
whereon the vessel rested. The mist immediately around me was fast
dispersing; five hundred feet below it still concealed everything. On
three sides descent was barred by sheer precipices; on the fourth a
steep slope promised a practicable path, at least as far as my eye
could reach. I placed the weaker and smaller of my birds in portable
cages, and then commenced my experiment by taking out a strong-winged
cuckoo and throwing him downwards over the precipice. He fell at first
almost like a stone; but before he was quite lost to sight in the
mist, I had the pleasure of seeing that he had spread his wings, and
was able to sustain himself. As the mist was gradually dissolving, I
now ventured to begin my descent, carrying my bird-cages, and
dismissing the larger birds, several of which, however, persistently
clung about me. I had secured on my back an air-gun, arranged to fire
sixteen balls in succession without reloading, while in my belt,
scabbarded in a leathern sheath, I had placed a well and often tried
two-edged sword. I found the way practicable, though not easy, till I
reached a point about 1000 feet below the summit, where farther
progress in the same direction was barred by an abrupt and impassable
cleft some hundred feet deep. To the right, however, the mountain side
seemed to present a safe and sufficiently direct descent. The sun was
a full hour above the horizon, and the mist was almost gone. Still I
had seen no signs of animal life, save, at some distance and in rapid
motion, two or three swarms of flying insects, not much resembling any
with which I was acquainted. The vegetation, mostly small, was of a
yellowish colour, the flowers generally red, varied by occasional
examples of dull green and white; the latter, however, presenting that
sort of creamy tinge which I had remarked in the snow. Here I released
and dismissed my birds one by one. The stronger and more courageous
flew away downwards, and soon disappeared; the weakest, trembling and
shivering, evidently suffering from the thinness of the atmosphere,
hung about me or perched upon the cages.

The scene I now contemplated was exceedingly novel and striking. The
sky, instead of the brilliant azure of a similar latitude on earth,
presented to my eye a vault of pale green, closely analogous to that
olive tint which the effect of contrast often throws over a small
portion of clear sky distinguished among the golden and rose-coloured
clouds of a sunset in our temperate zones.

The vapours which still hung around the north-eastern and
south-eastern horizon, though dispelled from the immediate vicinity of
the Sun, were tinged with crimson and gold much deeper than the tints
peculiar to an earthly twilight. The Sun himself, when seen by the
naked eye, was as distinctly golden as our harvest moon; and the whole
landscape, terrestrial, aerial, and celestial, appeared as if bathed
in a golden light, wearing generally that warm summer aspect peculiar
to Tellurian landscapes when seen through glass of a rich yellow tint.
It was a natural inference from all I saw that there takes place in
the Martial atmosphere an absorption of the blue rays which gives to
the sunlight a predominant tinge of yellow or orange. The small rocky
plateau on which I stood, like the whole of the mountainside I had
descended, faced the extremity of the range of which this mountain was
an outpost; and the valley which separated them was not from my
present position visible. I saw that I should have to turn my back
upon this part of the landscape as I descended farther, and therefore
took note at this point of the aspect it presented. The most prominent
object was a white peak in the distant sky, rising to a height above
my actual level, which I estimated conjecturally at 25,000 feet,
guessing the distance at fifty miles. The summit was decidedly more
angular and pointed, less softened in outline by atmospheric
influences, than those of mountains on Earth. Beyond this in the
farthest distance appeared two or three peaks still higher, but of
which, of course, only the summits were visible to me. On this side of
the central peak an apparently continuous double ridge extended to
within three miles of my station, exceedingly irregular in level, the
highest elevations being perhaps 20,000, the lowest visible
depressions 3000 feet above me. There appeared to be a line of
perpetual snow, though in many places above, this line patches of
yellow appeared, the nearer of which were certainly and the more
distant must be inferred to be covered with a low, close herbaceous
vegetation. The lower slopes were entirely clothed with yellow or
reddish foliage. Between the woods and snow-line lay extensive
pastures or meadows, if they might be so called, though I saw nothing
whatever that at all resembled the grass of similar regions on Earth.
Whatever foliage I saw—as yet I had not passed near anything that
could be called a tree, and very few shrubs—consisted distinctly of
leaves analogous to those of our deciduous trees, chiefly of three
shapes: a sort of square rounded at the angles, with short projecting
fingers; an oval, slightly pointed where it joined the stalk; and
lanceolate or sword-like blades of every size, from two inches to four
feet in length. Nearly all were of a dull yellow or copper-red tinge.
None were as fine as the beech-leaf, none succulent or fleshy; nothing
resembling the blades of grass or the bristles of the pine and
cedar tribes was visible.

My path now wound steadily downward at a slope of perhaps one in eight
along the hillside, obliging me to turn my back to the mountains,
while my view in front was cut off by a sharp cross-jutting ridge
immediately, before me. By the time I turned this, all my birds had
deserted me, and I was not, I think, more than 2000 feet from the
valley below. Just before reaching this point I first caught sight of
a Martial animal. A little creature, not much bigger than a rabbit,
itself of a sort of sandy-yellow colour, bounded from among some
yellow herbage by my feet, and hopped or sprang in the manner of a
kangaroo down the steep slope on my left. When I turned the ridge, a
wide and quite new landscape burst upon my sight. I was looking upon
an extensive plain, the continuation apparently of a valley of which
the mountain range formed the southern limit. To the southward this
plain was bounded by the sea, bathed in the peculiar light I have
tried to describe, and lying in what seemed from this distance a
glassy calm. To eastward and northward the plain extended to the
horizon, and doubtless far beyond it; while from the valley north of
the mountain range emerged a broad river, winding through the plain
till it was lost at the horizon. Plain I have called it, but I do not
mean to imply that it was by any means level. On the contrary, its
surface was broken by undulations, and here and there by hills, but
all so much lower than the point on which I stood that the general
effect was that of an almost flat surface. And now the question of
habitation, and of human habitation, seemed to be solved. Looking
through my field-glass, I saw, following the windings of the river,
what must surely be a road; serving also, perhaps, as an embankment,
since it was raised many feet above the level of the stream. It
seemed, too, that the plain was cultivated. Everywhere appeared
extensive patches, each of a single colour, in every tint between deep
red and yellowish green, and so distinctly rectangular in form as
irresistibly to suggest the idea of artificial, if not human,
arrangement. But there were other features of the scene that dispelled
all doubt upon this point. Immediately to the south-eastward, and
about twenty miles from where I stood, a deep arm of the sea ran up
into the land, and upon the shores of this lay what was unquestionably
a city. It had nothing that looked like fortifications, and even at
this distance I could discern that its streets were of remarkable
width, with few or no buildings so high as mosques, churches,
State-offices, or palaces in Tellurian cities. Their colours were most
various and brilliant, as if reflected from metallic surfaces; and on
the waters of the bay itself rode what I could not doubt to be ships
or rafts. More immediately beneath me, and scattered at intervals over
the entire plain, clustering more closely in the vicinity of the city,
were walled enclosures, and in the centre of each was what could
hardly be anything but a house, though not apparently more than twelve
or fourteen feet high, and covering a space sufficient for an European
or even American street or square. Upon the lower slopes of the hill
whereon I stood were moving figures, which, seen through the
binocular, proved to be animals; probably domestic animals, since they
never ranged very far, and presented none of those signs of
watchfulness and alarm which are peculiar to creatures not protected
by man from their less destructive enemies, and taught to lay aside
their dread of man himself. I had descended, then, not only into an
inhabited world—not only into a world of men, who, however they might
differ in outward form, must resemble in their wants, ideas, and
habits, in short, in mind if not in body, the lords of my own
planet—but into a civilised world and among a race living under a
settled order, cultivating the soil, and taming the brutes to their
service.

And now, as I came on lower ground, I found at each step new objects
of curiosity and interest. A tree with dark-yellowish leaves, taller
than most timber trees on Earth, bore at the end of drooping twigs
large dark-red fruits—fruits with a rind something like that of a
pomegranate, save for the colour and hardness, and about the size of a
shaddock or melon. One of these, just within reach of my hand, I
gathered, but found it impossible to break the thin, dry rind or
shell, without the aid of a knife. Having pierced this, a stream of
red juice gushed out, which had a sweet taste and a strong flavour,
not unlike the juice expressed from cherries, but darker in colour.
Dissecting the fruit completely, I found it parted by a membrane,
essentially of the same nature as the rind, but much thinner and
rather tough than hard, into sixteen segments, like those of an orange
divided across the middle, each of which enclosed a seed. These seeds
were all joined at the centre, but easily separated. They were of a
yellow colour and about as large as an almond kernel. Some fruits
that, being smaller, I concluded to be less ripe, were of a
reddish-yellow. After walking for about a mile through a grove of such
trees, always tending downwards, I came to another of more varied
character. The most prevalent tree here was of lower stature and with
leaves of great length and comparatively narrow, the fruit of which,
though protected by a somewhat similar rind, was of rich golden
colour, not so easily seen among the yellowish leaves, and contained
one solid kernel of about the size of an almond, enclosed entirely in
a sort of spongy material, very palatable to the taste, and resembling
more the inside of roasted maize than any other familiar vegetable. As
I emerged entirely from the grove, I came upon a ditch about twice as
broad as deep. On Earth I certainly could not have leaped it; but
since landing on Mars, I had forgotten the weightless life of the
Astronaut, and felt as if on Earth, but enjoying great increase of
strength and energy; and with these sensations had come instinctively
an exalted confidence in my physical powers. I took, therefore, a
vigorous run, and leaping with all my strength, landed, somewhat to my
own surprise, a full yard on the other side of the ditch.

Having done so, I found myself in what was beyond doubt a cultivated
field, producing nothing but one crimson-coloured plant, about a foot
in height. This carpeted the soil with broad leaves shaped something
like those of the laurel, and in colour exactly resembling a withered
laurel leaf, but somewhat thicker, more metallic and brighter in
appearance, and perfectly free from the bitter taste of the bay tribe.
At a little distance I saw half-a-dozen animals somewhat resembling
antelopes, but on a second glance still more resembling the fabled
unicorn. They were like the latter, at all events, in the single
particular from which it derived its name: they had one horn, about
eight inches in length, intensely sharp, smooth and firm in texture as
ivory, but marbled with vermilion and cream white. Their skins were
cream-coloured, dappled with dark red. Their ears were large and
protected by a lap which fell down so as to shelter the interior part
of the organ, but which they had not quite lost the power to erect at
the approach of a sound that startled them. They looked up at me, at
first without alarm, afterwards with some surprise, and presently
bounded away; as if my appearance, at first familiar, had, on a closer
examination, presented some unusual particulars, frightening them, as
everything unusual frightens even those domestic animals on Earth best
acquainted with man and most accustomed to his caprices. I noticed
that all were female, and their abnormally large udders suggested that
they were domestic creatures kept for their milk. Not being able to
see a path through the field, I went straight forward, endeavouring to
trample the pasture as little as I could, but being surprised to
remark how very little the plants had been injured by the feet of the
animals. The leaves had been grazed, but the stems were seldom or
never broken. In fact, the animals seemed to have gathered their food
as man would do, with an intelligent or instinctive care not to injure
the plant so as to deprive it of the power of reproducing their
sustenance.

In another minute I discerned the object of my paramount interest, of
whose vicinity I had thus far seen nearly every imaginable evidence
except himself. It was undoubtedly a man, but a man very much smaller
than myself. His eyes were fixed upon the ground as if in reverie, and
he did not perceive me till I had come within fifty yards of him, so
that I had full time to remark the peculiarities of his form and
appearance. He was about four feet eight or nine inches in height,
with legs that seemed short in proportion to the length and girth of
the body, but only because, as was apparent on more careful scrutiny,
the chest was proportionately both longer and wider than in our race;
otherwise he greatly resembled the fairer families of the Aryan breed,
the Swede or German. The yellow hair, unshaven beard, whiskers, and
moustache were all close and short. The dress consisted of a sort of
blouse and short pantaloons, of some soft woven fabric, and of a
vermilion colour. The head was protected from the rays of an
equatorial sun by a species of light turban, from which hung down a
short shade or veil sheltering the neck and forehead. His bare feet
were guarded by sandals of some flexible material just covering the
toes and bound round the ankle by a single thong. He carried no
weapon, not even a staff; and I therefore felt that there was no
immediate danger from him. On seeing me he started as with intense
surprise and not a little alarm, and turned to run. Size and length of
limb, however, gave me immense advantage in this respect, and in less
than a minute I had come up with and laid my hand upon him.

He looked up at me, scanning my face with earnest curiosity. I took
from my pocket first a jewel of very exquisite construction, a
butterfly of turquoise, pearl, and rubies, set on an emerald branch,
upon which he looked without admiration or interest, then a watch very
small and elaborately enamelled and jewelled. To the ornament he paid
no attention whatever; but when I opened the watch, its construction
and movement evidently interested him. Placing it in his hands and
endeavouring to signify to him by signs that he was to retain it, I
then held his arm and motioned to him to guide me towards the houses
visible in the distance. This he seemed willing to do, but before we
had gone many paces he repeated two or three times a phrase or word
which sounded like "r'mo-ah-el" ("whence-who-what" do you want?). I
shook my head; but, that he might not suppose me dumb, I answered him
in Latin. The sound seemed to astonish him exceedingly; and as I went
on to repeat several questions in the same tongue, for the purpose of
showing him that I could speak and was desirous of doing so, I
observed that his wonder grew deeper and deeper, and was evidently
mingled first with alarm and afterwards with anger, as if he thought I
was trying to impose upon him. I pointed to the sky, to the summit of
the mountain from which I had descended, and then along the course by
which I had come, explaining aloud at the same time the meaning of my
signs. I thought that he had caught the latter, but if so, it only
provoked an incredulous indignation, contempt of a somewhat angry
character being the principal expression visible in his countenance. I
saw that it was of little use to attempt further conversation for the
present, and, still holding his hand and allowing him to direct me,
looked round again at the scenes through which we were passing. The
lower hill slopes before us appeared to be divided into fields of
large extent, perhaps some 100 acres each, separated by ditches. We
followed a path about two yards broad, raised two or three inches
above the level of the ground, and paved with some kind of hard
concrete. Each ditch was crossed by a bridge of planks, in the middle
of which was a stake or short pole, round which we passed with ease,
but which would obviously baffle a four-footed animal of any size. The
crops were of great variety, and wonderfully free from weeds. Most of
them showed fruit of one kind or another, sometimes gourd-like globes
on the top of upright stalks, sometimes clusters of a sort of nut on
vines creeping along the soil, sometimes a number of pulpy fruits
about the size of an orange hanging at the end of pendulous stalks
springing from the top of a stiff reed-like stem. One field was bare,
its surface of an ochreish colour deeper than that of clay, broken and
smoothed as perfectly as the surface of the most carefully tended
flower-bed. Across this was ranged a row of birds, differing, though
where and how I had hardly leisure to observe, from the form of any
earthly fowl, about twice the size of a crow, and with beaks
apparently at least as powerful but very much longer. Extending
entirely across the field, they kept line with wonderful accuracy, and
as they marched across it, slowly and constantly dug their beaks into
the soil as if seeking grubs or worms beneath the surface. They went
on with their work perfectly undisturbed by our presence. In the next
field was a still odder sight; here grew gourd-like heads on erect
reed-like stems, and engaged in plucking the ripe purple fruit,
carefully distinguishing them from the scarlet unripened heads, were
half-a-score of creatures which, from their occupation and demeanour,
I took at first to be human; but which, as we approached nearer, I saw
were only about half the size of my companion, and thickly covered
with hair, with bushy tails, which they kept carefully erect so as not
to touch the ground; creatures much resembling monkeys in movement,
size, and length, and flexibility of limb, but in other respects more
like gigantic squirrels. They held the stalks of the fruit they
plucked in their mouths, filling with them large bags left at
intervals, and from the manner in which they worked I suspected that
they had no opposable thumbs—that the whole hand had to be used like
the paw of a squirrel to grasp an object. I pointed to these,
directing my companion's attention and asking, "What are they?"
"Ambau," he said, but apparently without the slightest interest in
their proceedings. Indeed, the regularity and entire freedom from
alarm or vigilance which characterised their movements, convinced me
that both these and the birds we passed were domesticated creatures,
whose natural instincts had been turned to such account by human
training.

After a few moments more, we came in sight of a regular road, in a
direction nearly at right angles to that which followed the course of
the river. Like the path, it was constructed of a hard polished
concrete. It was about forty paces broad, and in the centre was a
raised way about four inches higher than the general surface, and
occupying about one-fourth of the entire width. Along the main way on
either side passed from time to time with great rapidity light
vehicles of shining metal, each having three wheels, one small one in
front and two much larger behind, with box-like seat and steering
handle; otherwise resembling nothing so much as the velocipedes I have
seen ridden for amusement by eccentric English youths. It was clear,
however, that these vehicles were not moved by any effort on the part
of their drivers, and their speed was far greater than that of the
swiftest mail-coach:—say, from fifteen to thirty miles an hour. All
risk of collision was avoided, as those proceeding in opposite
directions took opposite sides of the road, separated by the raised
centre I have described. Crossing the road with caution, we came upon
a number of small houses, perhaps twenty feet square, each standing in
the midst of a garden marked out by a narrow ditch, some of them
having at either side wings of less height and thrown a little
backward. In the centre of each, and at the end of the wings where
these existed, was what seemed to be a door of some translucent
material about twelve feet in height. But I observed that these doors
were divided by a scarcely perceptible line up to six feet from the
ground, and presently one of these parted, and a figure, closely
resembling that of my guide, came out.

We had now reached another road which led apparently towards the
larger houses I had seen in the distance, and were proceeding along
the raised central pathway, when some half-dozen persons from the
cottages followed us. At a call from my guide, these, and presently as
many more, ran after and gathered around us. I turned, took down my
air-gun from my back, and waving it around me, signalled to them to
keep back, not choosing to incur the danger of a sudden rush, since
their bearing, if not plainly hostile, was not hospitable or friendly.
Thus escorted, but not actually assailed, I passed on for three or
four miles, by which time we were among the larger dwellings of which
I have spoken. Each of them stood in grounds enclosed by walls about
eight feet high, each of some uniform colour, contrasting agreeably
with that chosen for the exterior of the house. The enclosures varied
in size from about six to sixty acres. The houses were for the most
part some twelve feet in height, and from one to four hundred feet
square. On several flat roofs, guarded by low parapets, other persons,
all about the size of my guide, now showed themselves, all of them
interested, and, as it seemed, somewhat excited by my appearance. In a
few cases groups differently dressed, and, from their somewhat smaller
stature, slighter figures, and the long hair here and there visible,
probably consisting of women, were gathered on a remoter portion of
the roof. But these, when seen by those in front, were always waived
back with an impatient or threatening gesture, and instantly retired.
Presently two or three men more richly dressed than my escort, and in
various colours, came out upon the road. Addressing one of these, I
pointed again to the sky, and again endeavoured to describe my
journey, holding out to him at the same time, as the thing most likely
to conciliate him, a watch somewhat larger than that I had bestowed
upon my guide. He, however, did not come within arm's length; and when
I repeated my signs, he threw back his head with a sort of sneer and
uttered a few words in a sharp tone, at which my escort rushed upon
and attempted to throw me down. For this, however, I had been long
prepared, and striking right and left with my air-gun—for I was
determined not to shed blood except in the last extremity—I speedily
cleared a circle round me, still grasping my guide with the left hand,
from a providential instinct which suggested that his close contiguity
might in some way protect me. A call from the chief of my antagonists
was answered from the roof of a neighbouring house. I heard a whizzing
through the air, and presently something like a winged serpent, but
with a slender neck, and shoulders of considerable breadth, and a head
much larger than a serpent's in proportion to the body, and shaped
more like a bird's, with a sharp, short beak, sprang upon and coiled
round my left arm. That it was trying to sting with an erectile organ
placed about midway between the shoulders and the tail I became
instinctively aware, and presently felt something like a weak electric
thrill over all my body, while my left hand, which was naked,
sustained a severe shock, completely numbing it for the moment. I
caught the beast by the neck, and flung him with all my force right in
the face of my chief antagonist, who fell with a cry of terror.
Looking in the direction from which this dangerous assailant had come,
I perceived another in the air, and saw that not a moment was to be
lost. Dropping my gun with the muzzle between my feet, and holding it
so far as I could with my numbed left hand—releasing also my guide,
but throwing him to the ground as I released him—I drew my sword; and
but just in time, with the same motion with which I drew it, I cut
right through the neck of the dragon that had been launched against
me. My principal enemy had quickly recovered his feet and presence of
mind, and spoke very loudly and at some length to the person who had
launched the dragons. The latter disappeared, and at the same time the
group around me began to disperse. Whatever suited them was certain
not to suit me, and accordingly, still holding my sword, I caught one
of them with each hand. It was well I had done so, for within another
minute the owner of the dragons reappeared with a weapon not wholly
unlike a long cannon of very small bore fixed upon a sort of stand.
This he levelled at me, and I, seeing that a danger of whose magnitude
and nature I could form no exact estimate was impending, caught up
instinctively one of my prisoners, and held him as a shield between
myself and the weapon pointed at me. This checked my enemy, who for
the moment seemed almost as much at a loss as myself. Fortunately his
hostile intention evidently endangered not only my life but all near
me, and secured me from any close attack.

At this moment a somewhat remarkable personage came to the front of
the group which had gathered some few yards before me. He wore a long
frock of emerald green and trousers of the same colour, gathered in at
the waist by a belt of a red metal. On earth I should have taken him
for a hale and vigorous gentleman of some fifty years; he was two
inches short of five feet, but well proportioned as a man of middle
size. Gentleman I say emphatically; for something of dignity, gravity,
and calm good-breeding, was conspicuous in his manner, as authority
unmixed with menace was evident in his tone. He called, somewhat
peremptorily as I thought, to the man who was still aiming his weapon
at my head, then waived back those behind him, and presently advanced
towards me, looking me straight in the eyes with a steadiness and
intensity of gaze far exceeding, both in expressiveness and in effect,
the most fixed stare of the most successful mesmerists I have known. I
doubt whether I should have had the power to resist his will had I
thought it wise to do so. But I was perfectly aware that, however
successful in repelling the first tumultuous attack, prolonged
self-defence was hopeless.

I must, probably at the next move, certainly in a few minutes, succumb
to the enemies around me. I could not conciliate those whose malignity
I could not comprehend. I had done them no injury, and they could
hardly be maddened by fear, since my size and strength did not seem to
overawe them save at close quarters, and of my weapons they were
certainly less afraid than I of theirs. My only chance must lie in
finding favour with an individual protector. When, therefore, the
new-comer fearlessly laid his hand on an arm which could have killed
him at a blow, and rather by gesture than by force released my
captives, policy as well as instinct dictated submission. I allowed
him to disarm and make me in some sense his prisoner without a show of
resistance. He took me by the left hand, first placing my fingers upon
his own wrist and then grasping mine, and led me quietly through the
crowd, which gave way before him reluctantly and not without angry
murmurs, but with a certain awe as before one superior either in power
or rank.

Thus he led me for about half a mile, till we reached the crystal gate
of an enclosure of exceptional size, the walls of which, like the gate
itself, were of a pale rose-colour. Through grounds laid out in
symmetrical alternation of orchard and grove, shrubbery,
close-carpeted field, and garden beds, arranged with evident regard to
effect in form and colour, as well as to fitting distribution of shade
and sun, we followed a straight path which sloped under a canopy of
flowering creepers up to the terrace on which stood the house itself.
There were some eight or nine crystal doors (or windows) in the front,
and in the centre one somewhat larger than the others, which, as we
came immediately in front of it, opened, not turning on hinges, but,
like every other door I had seen, dividing and sliding rapidly into
the walls to the right and left. We entered, and it immediately closed
behind us in the same way. Turning my head for a moment, I was
surprised to observe that, whereas I could see nothing through the
door from the outside, the scene without was as visible from within as
through the most perfectly transparent glass. The chamber in which I
found myself had walls of bright emerald green, with all the brilliant
transparency of the jewel; their surface broken by bas-reliefs of
minutely perfect execution, and divided into panels—each of which
seemed to contain a series of distinct scenes, one above the other—by
living creepers with foliage of bright gold, and flowers sometimes
pink, sometimes cream-white of great size, both double and single; the
former mostly hemispherical and the latter commonly shaped as hollow
cones or Avide shallow champagne glasses. In these walls two or three
doors appeared, reaching, from the floor to the roof, which was
coloured like the walls, and seemingly of the same material. Through
one of these my guide led me into a passage which appeared to run
parallel with the front of the house, and turning down this, a door
again parted on the right hand, through which he led me into a similar
but smaller apartment, some twenty feet in width and twenty-five in
length. The window—if I should so call that which was simply another
door—of this apartment looked into one corner of a flower-garden of
great extent, beyond and at each end of which were other portions of
the dwelling. The walls of this chamber were pink, the surface
appearing as before of jewel-like lustre; the roof and floor of a
green lighter than that of the emerald. In two corners were piles of
innumerable cushions and pillows covered with a most delicate
satin-like fabric, embroidered with gold, silver, and feathers, all
soft as eider-down and of all shapes and sizes. There were three or
four light tables, apparently of metal, silver, or azure, or golden in
colour, in various parts of the chamber, with one or two of different
form, more like small office-tables or desks. In one of the walls was
sunk a series of shelves closed by a transparent sheet of crystal of
pale yellow tinge. There were three or four movable seats resembling
writing or easy-chairs, but also of metal, luxurious all though all
different. In the corner to the left, farthest from the inner court or
peristyle, was a screen, which, as my host showed me, concealed a bath
and some other convenient appurtenances. The bath was a cylinder some
five feet in depth and about two in diameter, with thin double walls,
the space between which was filled with an apparatus of small pipes.
By pressing a spring, as my protector pointed out, countless minute
jets of warm perfumed water were thrown from every part of the
interior wall, forming the most delicious and perfect shower-bath that
could well be devised.

My host then led me to a seat among the cushions, and placed himself
beside me, looking for some time intently and gravely into my face,
but with nothing of offensive curiosity, still less of menace in his
gaze. It appeared to me as if he wished to read the character and
perhaps the thoughts of his guest. The scrutiny seemed to satisfy him.
He stretched out his left hand, and grasping mine, placed it on his
heart, and then dropping my hand, placed his upon my breast. He then
spoke in words whose meaning I could not guess, but the tone sounded
to me as that of inquiry. The question most likely to be asked
concerned my character and the place from which I had come. I again
explained, again pointing upward. He seemed dubious or perplexed, and
it occurred to me that drawing might assist explanation; since, from
the bas-reliefs and tracery, it was evident that the art was carried
to no common excellence in Mars. I drew, therefore, in the first
place, a globe to represent the Earth, traced its orbit round the Sun,
and placed a crescent Moon at some little distance, indicating its
path round the Earth. It was evident that my host understood my
meaning, the more clearly when I marked upon the form of the Earth a
crescent, such as she would often present through a Martial telescope.
Sketches in outline roughly exhibiting different stages of my voyage,
from the first ascent to the final landing, appeared to convince my
host of my meaning, if not of my veracity. Signing to me to remain
where I was, he left the room. In a few minutes he returned,
accompanied by one of the strange squirrel-like animals I had seen in
the fields. I was right in conjecturing that the creature had no
opposable thumb; but a little ingenuity had compensated this so far as
regarded the power of carrying. A little chain hung down from each
wrist, and to these was suspended a tray, upon which were arranged a
variety of fruits and what seemed to be small loaves of various
materials. Breaking one of these and cutting open with a small knife,
apparently of silver, one of the fruits, my host tasted each and then
motioned to me to eat. The attendant had placed the tray upon a table,
disengaged the chains, and disappeared; the door opening and closing
as he trod, somewhat more heavily than had been necessary for my host,
upon particular points of the floor.

The food offered me was very delicious and various in flavour. My host
showed me how to cut the top from some of the hard-rind fruits, so as
to have a cup full of the most delicately-flavoured juice, the whole
pulp having been reduced to a liquid syrup by a process with which
some semicivilised cultivators on Earth are familiar. When I had
finished my meal, my host whistled, and the attendant, returning,
carried away the tray. His master gave him at the same time what was
evidently an order, repeating it twice, and speaking with signal
clearness of intonation. The little creature bowed its head,
apparently as a sign of intelligence, and in a few minutes returned
with what seemed like a pencil or stylus and writing materials, and
with a large silver-like box of very curious form. To one side was
affixed a sort of mouthpiece, consisting of a truncated cone expanding
into a saucer-shaped bowl. Across the wider and outer end of the cone
was stretched a membrane or diaphragm about three inches in diameter.
Into the mouth of the bowl, two or three inches from the diaphragm, my
host spoke one by one a series of articulate but single sounds,
beginning with _â, a, aa, au, o, oo, ou, u, y or ei (long), i (short),
oi, e,_ which I afterwards found to be the twelve vowels of their
language. After he had thus uttered some forty distinct sounds, he
drew from the back of the instrument a slip of something like
goldleaf, on which as many weird curves and angular figures were
traced in crimson. Pointing to these in succession, he repeated the
sounds in order. I made out that the figures in question represented
the sounds spoken into the instrument, and taking out my pencil,
marked under each the equivalent character of the Roman alphabet,
supplemented by some letters not admitted therein but borrowed from
other Aryan tongues. My host looked on with some interest whilst I did
this, and bent his head as if in approval. Here then was the alphabet
of the Martial tongue—an alphabet not arbitrary, but actually
produced by the vocal sounds it represented! The elaborate machinery
modifies the rough signs which are traced by the mere aerial
vibrations; but each character is a true physical type, a visual
image, of the spoken sound; the voice, temper, accent, sex, of a
speaker affect the phonograph, and are recognisable in the record. The
instrument wrote, so to speak, different hands under my voice and
under Esmo's; and those who knew him could identify his phonogram, as
my friends my manuscript.

After I had been employed for some time in fixing these forms and the
corresponding sounds in my memory, my host advanced to the window, and
opening it, led me into the interior garden; which, as I had supposed,
was a species of central court around which the house was built.

The construction of the house was at once apparent. It consisted of a
front portion, divided by the gallery of which I have spoken, all the
rooms on one side thereof looking, like the chamber I first entered,
into the outer enclosure; those on the other into the interior garden
or peristyle. Beyond the latter was a single row of chambers opening
upon it, appropriated to the ladies and children of the household. The
court was roofed over with the translucent material of the windows. It
was about 360 feet in length by 300 in width. At either end were
chambers entirely formed of the same material as the roof, in one of
which the various birds and animals employed either in domestic
service or in agriculture, in another the various stores of the
household, were kept. In front of these, two inclined planes of the
same material as the walls of the house led up to the several parts of
the roof. The court was divided by broad concrete paths into four
gardens. In the centre of each was a basin of water and a fountain,
above which was a square opening of some twenty feet in the roof. Each
garden was, so to speak, turfed with minute plants, smaller than daisy
roots, and even more closely covering the soil than English lawn
grass. These were of different colours—emerald, gold, and
purple—arranged in bands. This turf was broken by a number of beds of
all shapes, the crescent, circle, and six-rayed star being apparently
the chief favourites. The smaller of these were severally filled with
one or two flowers; in the larger, flowers of different colours were
set in patterns, generally rising from the outside to the centre, and
never allowing the soil to be seen through a single interval. The
contrast of colours and tints was admirably ordered; the size, form,
and structure of the flowers wonderfully various and always
exquisitely beautiful. The exact tints of silver and gold were
frequent and especially favoured, At each corner of every garden was a
hollow silvery pillar, up which creepers with flowers of marvellous
size and beauty, and foliage of hues almost as striking as those of
the flowers, were conducted to form a perfect arch overhead, parting
off the gardens from the walks. In each basin were fishes whose
brilliancy of colouring and beauty of form far surpassed anything I
have seen in earthly seas or rivers.

At the meeting of the four cross paths was a wide space covered with a
soft woven carpet, upon which were strown cushions similar to those in
my room. On these several ladies were reclining, who rose as the head
of the family approached. One who seemed by her manner to be the
mistress, and by her resemblance to some of her younger companions the
mother, of the family, wore a sort of light golden half-helmet on the
head, and over this, falling round her half-way to the waist, a
crimson veil, intended apparently to protect her head and neck from
the sun as much as to conceal them. Her face was partially uncovered.
The dress of all was, except in colour and in certain omissions and
additions, much the same. The under-garments must have been slight in
material and few in number. Nothing was to be seen of them save the
sleeves, which were of a delicate substance, resembling that of the
finest Parisian kid gloves, but far softer and finer. Over all was a
robe almost without shape, save what it took from the figure to which
it closely adapted itself, suspended by broad ribbons and jewelled
clasps from the shoulders, falling nearly to the ankles, and gathered
in by a zone at the waist. This garment left the neck, shoulders, and
the upper part of the bosom uncovered; but the veil, whether covering
the head completely, drawn round all save the face, or consisting only
of two separate muslin falls behind either ear, was always so arranged
as to render the general effect far more decorous than the "low
dresses" of European matrons and maidens. The ankles and feet were
entirely bare, save for sandals with an embroidered velvety covering
for the toes, and silver bands clasped round the ankles. The eldest
lady wore a pale green robe of a fine but very light silken-seeming
fabric. Three younger ones wore a similar material of pink, with
silver head-dresses and veils hiding everything but the eyes. All
these had sleeves reaching to the wrist, ending in gloves of the same
fabric. Two young girls were robed in white gauze, with gauze veils
attached over either ear to a very slight silver coronal; their arms
bare till the sleeve of the under-robe appeared, a couple of inches
below the shoulder; their bright soft faces and their long hair (which
fell freely down the back, kept in graceful order here and there by
almost invisible silver clasps or bands) were totally uncovered. "A
maiden," says the Martialist, "may make the most of her charms; a
wife's beauty is her lord's exclusive right." One of the girls, my
host's daughters, might almost have veiled her entire form above the
knees in the masses of rich soft brown hair inherited from her father,
but mingled with tresses of another tinge, shimmering like gold under
certain lights. Her eyes, of deepest violet, were shaded by dark thick
lashes, so long that when the lids were closed they traced a clear
black curve on either cheek. The other maiden had, like their mother,
and, I believe, like the younger matrons, the bright hair—flaxen in
early childhood, pale gold in maturer years—and the blue or grey eyes
characteristic of the race. My host spoke two or three words to the
chief of the party, indicating me by a graceful and courteous wave of
the hand, upon which the person addressed slightly bent her head,
laying her hand at the same time upon her heart. The others
acknowledged the introduction by a similar but slighter inclination,
and all resumed their places as soon as my host, seating himself
between us, signed to me to occupy some pillows which one of the young
ladies arranged on his left hand, I had observed by this time that the
left hand was used by preference, as we use the right, for all
purposes, and therefore was naturally extended in courtesy; and the
left side was, for similar reasons, the place of honour.

Three or four children were playing in another part of the court. All,
with one exception, were remarkably beautiful and healthy-looking,
certainly not less graceful in form and movement than the happiest and
prettiest in our own world. Their tones were soft and gentle, and
their bearing towards each other notably kind and considerate. One
unfortunate little creature differed from the rest in all respects. It
was slightly lame, misshapen rather than awkward, and with a face that
indicated bad health, bad temper, or both. Its manner was peevish and
fractious, its tones sharp and harsh, and its actions rough and hasty.
I took it for a mother's sickly favourite, deformed in character to
compensate for physical deformity. Watching them for a short time, I
saw the little creature repeatedly break out in all the humours of an
ill-tempered, over-indulged youngest-born in an ill-managed family;
snatching toys from the others, and now and then slapping or pinching
them. But they never returned either word or blow, even when pain or
vexation brought the tears to their eyes. When its caprices became
intolerable most of its companions withdrew; one, however, always
remaining on the watch, even if driven from the immediate
neighbourhood by its intolerably provoking temper, tones, and acts.

Before sunset we were joined by a young man, who, first approaching my
host with a respectful inclination of the head, stood before him till
apparently desired by a few quiet words to speak; when he addressed
the head of the family in some short sentences, and then, at a sign
from him, turned to two of the squirrel-like animals, "ambau," which
followed him. These then laid at my feet two large baskets, or open
bags of golden network, containing many of the smaller objects left in
the Astronaut. Emptying these, they brought several more, till they
had laid before me the whole of my wardrobe and my store of intended
presents, books, and drawings, with such of my instruments as were not
attached to the walls. It was evident that great care had been taken
not to injure or dismantle the vessel. Nothing that actually belonged
to it had been taken away, and of the articles brought not one had
been broken or damaged. It was equally evident that there was no
intention or idea of appropriating them. They were brought and handed
over to me as a host on Earth might send for the baggage of an
unexpected guest. Of the various toys and ornaments that I had brought
for the purpose, I offered several of the most precious to my host. He
accepted one of the smallest and least valuable, rather declining to
understand than refusing the offer of the rest. The bringer did the
same. Then placing in the chief's hands an open jewel-box containing a
variety of the choicest jewellery, I requested by signs his permission
to offer them to the ladies. The elder ones imitated his example, and
graciously accepted one or two tasteful feminine ornaments, of far
less beauty and value than any of the few splendid jewels that adorned
their belts and clasped their robes at the shoulder, or fastened their
veils. The white-robed maidens shrank back shyly until the box was
pressed upon them, when each, at a word from the mistress, selected
some small gold or silver locket or chain; each at once placing the
article accepted about her person, with an evident intention of adding
to the grace with which it was received and acknowledging the intended
courtesy. How valueless the most valuable of these trifles must have
been in their eyes I had begun to suspect from what I saw, and was
afterwards made fully aware. As the shades of evening fell, the
fountains ceased to play, the young man pressed electric springs which
closed the openings in the roof, and, finally, turning a small handle,
caused a bright light to diffuse itself over the whole garden, and
through the doors into the chambers opening upon it. At the same time
a warmer air gradually spread throughout the interior of the building.
A meal was then served in small low trays, which was eaten by all of
us reclining on our cushions; after which the ladies retired, and my
host conducted me back to my chamber, and left me to repose.

My books and sketches, as well as the portfolios of popular prints
which I had selected to assist me in describing the life and scenery
of our world, were, with my wardrobe and other properties, arranged on
my shelves by the _ambau_, under the direction of Kevimâ, the young
gentleman who had superintended their removal and conveyance to his
father's house. The portfolios gave me occasional means and topics of
pleasant intercourse with the family of my host, before we could
converse at ease in their language. The children, though never
troublesome or importunate, took frequent opportunities of stealing
into the room to look over the prints I produced for their amusement.
The ladies also, particularly the violet-eyed maiden, who seemed to be
the especial guardian of the little ones, would draw near to look and
listen. The latter, though she never entered the room or directly
addressed me, often assisted in explaining my broken sentences to her
charges, some of them not many years younger than herself. I took
sincere pleasure in the children's company and growing confidence, but
they were not the less welcome because they drew their sisters to
listen to my descriptions of an existence so strange and so remote in
habits and character, as well as in space. Perhaps their gentle
governess learned more than any other member of the family respecting
Earth-life, and my own adventures by land and water, in air and space.
For, though just not child enough to share the children's freedom, she
took in all they heard; she listened in silence during our evening
gatherings to the conversation in which her father and brother
encouraged me to practise the language I was laboriously studying. She
had, therefore, double opportunities of acquiring a knowledge which
seemed to interest her deeply; naturally, since it was so absolutely
novel, and communicated by one whose very presence was the most
marvellous of the marvels it attested. How much she understood I could
not judge. Except her mother, the ladies did not take a direct part in
my talk with the children, and but very seldom interposed, through my
host, a shy brief question when the evening brought us all together.
The maidens, despite their theoretical privileges, were even more
reserved than their elders, and the dark-haired Eveena the most silent
and shy of all.

I learned afterwards that the privilege of intercourse with the ladies
of the household, restricted as it was, was wholly exceptional, and
even in this family was conceded only out of consideration for one who
could not safely be allowed to leave the house.




CHAPTER V - LANGUAGE, LAWS, AND LIFE.


Though treated with the greatest kindness and courtesy, I soon found
reason to understand that I was, at least for the present, a prisoner.
My host or his son never failed to invite me each day to spend some
time in the outer enclosure, but never intentionally left me alone
there. On one occasion, when Kevimâ had been called away and I
ventured to walk down towards the gate, my host's youngest child, who
had been playing on the roof, ran after me, and reaching me just as my
foot was set on the spring that opened the gate or outer door, caught
me by the hand, and looking up into my face, expressed by glance and
gesture a negative so unmistakable that I thought it expedient at once
to comply and return to the house. There my time was occupied, for as
great a part of each day as I could give to such a task without
extreme fatigue, in mastering the language of the country. This was a
much simpler task than might have been supposed. I soon found that,
unlike any Terrestrial tongue, the language of this people had not
grown but been made—constructed deliberately on set principles, with
a view to the greatest possible simplicity and the least possible
taxation of the memory. There were no exceptions or irregularities,
and few unnecessary distinctions; while words were so connected and
related that the mastery of a few simple grammatical forms and of a
certain number of roots enabled me to guess at, and by and by to feel
tolerably sure of, the meaning of a new word. The verb has six tenses,
formed by the addition of a consonant to the root, and six persons,
plural and singular, masculine and feminine.

   _Singular._  |_Masc._| _Fem._ ||_Plural._ |_Masc._ |_Fem._
  --------------|-------|--------||----------|--------|-------
   I am         | _avâ_ | _ava_ -|| We are   | _avau_ | _avaa_
   Thou art     | _avo_ | _avoo_ || You are  | _avou_ | _avu_
   He or she is | _avy_ | _ave_  || They are | _avoi_ | _avee_
  --------------|-------|--------||----------|--------|-------

The terminations are the three pronouns, feminine and masculine,
singular and plural, each represented by one of twelve vowel
characters, and declined like nouns. When a nominative immediately
follows the verb, the pronominal suffix is generally dropped, unless
required by euphony. Thus, "a man strikes" is _dak klaftas_, but in
the past tense, _dakny klaftas_, the verb without the suffix being
unpronounceable. The past tense is formed by the insertion of _n_
(_avnâ_: "I have been"), the future by _m_: _avmâ_. The imperative,
_avsâ_; which in the first person is used to convey determination or
resolve; _avsâ_, spoken in a peremptory tone, meaning "I _will_ be,"
while _avso_, according to the intonation, means "be" or "thou shalt
be;" i.e., shalt whether or no. _R_ forms the conditional, _avrâ_, and
_ren_ the conditional past, _avrenâ_, "I should have been." The need
for a passive voice is avoided by the simple method of putting the
pronoun in the accusative; thus, _dâcâ_ signifies "I strike," _dâcal_
(me strike) "I am struck." The infinitive is _avi; avyta_, "being;"
_avnyta_, "having been;" _avmyta_, "about to be." These are declined
like nouns, of which latter there are six forms, the masculine in _â,
o, and y,_ the feminine in _a, oo, and e;_ the plurals being formed
exactly as in the pronominal suffixes of the verb. The root-word,
without inflexion, alone is used where the name is employed in no
connection with a verb, where in every terrestrial language the
nominative would be employed. Thus, my guide had named the
squirrel-monkeys _ambau_ (sing. _ambâ_); but the word is declined as
follows:—

                            _Singular._     _Plural._

  _Nominative_               ambâs        ambaus

  _Accusative_               ambâl        ambaul

  _Dative, to_ or _in_       ambân        ambaun

  _Ablative, by_ or _from_   ambâm        ambaum

The five other forms are declined in the same manner, the vowel of the
last syllable only differing. Adjectives are declined like nouns, but
have no comparative or superlative degree; the former being expressed
by prefixing the intensitive syllable _ca_, the latter, when used
(which is but seldom) by the prefix _ela_, signifying _the_ in an
emphatic sense, as his Grace of Wellington is in England called _The_
Duke _par excellence_. Prepositions and adverbs end in _t_ or _d_.

Each form of the noun has, as a rule, its special relation to the verb
of the same root: thus from dâc, "strike," are derived _dâcâ_,
"weapon" or "hammer;", _dâco_, a "stroke" or "striking" [as given]
both masculine; _dâca_, "anvil;" _dâcoo_, "blow" or "beating" [as
received]; and _dâke_, "a thing beaten," feminine. The sixth form,
_dâky_, masculine, has in this case no proper signification, and not
being wanted, is not used. Individual letters or syllables are largely
employed in combination to give new and even contradictory meanings to
a root. Thus _n_, like the Latin _in_, signifies "penetration,"
"motion towards," or simply "remaining in a place," or, again,
"permanence." _M_, like the Latin _ab_ or _ex_, indicates "motion
from." _R_ expresses "uncertainty" or "incompleteness," and is
employed to convert a statement into a question, or a relative pronoun
into one of inquiry. _G_, like the Greek _a_ or _anti_, generally
signifies "opposition" or "negation;" _ca_ is, as aforesaid,
intensitive, and is employed, for example, to convert _âfi_, "to
breathe," into _câfi_, "to speak." _Cr_ is by itself an interjection
of abhorrence or disgust; in composition it indicates detestation or
destruction: thus, _crâky_ signifies "hatred;" _crâvi_, "the
destruction of life" or "to kill." _L_ for the most part indicates
passivity, but with different effect according to its place in the
word. Thus _mepi_ signifies "to rule;" _mepil_, "to be ruled;"
_melpi_, "to control one's self;" _lempi_, "to obey." The
signification of roots themselves is modified by a modification of the
principal vowel or consonant, _i.e._, by exchanging the original for
one closely related. Thus _avi_, "exist;" _âvi_, "be," in the positive
sense of being this or that; _afi_, "live;" _âfi_, "breathe." _Z_ is a
diminutive; _zin_, "with," often abbreviated to _zn_, "combination,"
"union." Thus _znaftau_ means "those who were brought into life
together," or "brethren."

I may add, before I quit this subject, that the Martial system of
arithmetic differs from ours principally in the use of a duodecimal
instead of a decimal basis. Figures are written on a surface divided
into minute squares, and the value of a figure, whether it signify so
many units, dozens, twelve dozens, and so forth, depends upon the
square in which it is placed. The central square of a line represents
the unit's place, and is marked by a line drawn above it. Thus a
figure answering to our I, if placed in the fourth square to the left,
represents 1728. In the third place to the right, counting the unit
square in both cases, it signifies ¹⁄₁₄₄, and so forth.

In less than a fortnight I had obtained a general idea of the
language, and was able to read easily the graven representations of
spoken sound which I have described; and by the end of a month (to use
a word which had no meaning here) I could speak intelligibly if not
freely. Only in a language so simple could my own anxiety to overcome
as soon as possible a fatal obstacle to all investigation of this new
world, and the diligent and patient assistance given by my host or his
son for a great part of every day, have enabled me to make such rapid
progress. I had noted even, during the short evening gatherings when
the whole family was assembled, the extreme taciturnity of both sexes;
and by the time I could make myself understood, I was not surprised to
learn that the Martials have scarcely the idea of what we mean by
conversation, not talking for the sake of talking, or speaking unless
they have something to discuss, explain, or communicate. I found,
again, that a new and much more difficult task, though fortunately one
not so indispensable, was still in store for me. The Martials have two
forms of writing: the one I have described, which is simply a
mechanical rendering of spoken words into artificially simplified
visible signs; the other, written by hand, with a fine pencil of some
chemical material on a prepared surface, textile or metallic. The
characters of the latter are, like ours wholly arbitrary; but the
contractions and abbreviations are so numerous that the mastery of the
mere alphabet, the forty or fifty single letters employed, is but a
single step in the first stage of the hard task of learning to read.
In no country on Earth, except China, is this task half so severe as
in Mars. On the other hand, when it is once mastered, a far superior
instrument has been gained; the Martial writing being a most terse but
perfectly legible shorthand. Every Martial can write at least as
quickly as he can speak, and can read the written character more
rapidly than the quickest eye can peruse the best Terrestrial print.
Copies, whether of the phonographic or stylographic writing, are
multiplied with extreme facility and perfection. The original, once
inscribed in either manner upon the above-mentioned _tafroo_ or
gold-leaf, is placed upon a sheet of a species of linen, smoother than
paper, called _difra_. A current of electricity sent through the
former reproduces the writing exactly upon the latter, which has been
previously steeped in some chemical composition; the effect apparently
depending on the passage of the electricity through the untouched
metal, and its absolute interception by the ink, if I may so call it,
of the writing, which bites deeply into the leaf. This process can be
repeated almost _ad libitum_; and it is equally easy to take at any
time a fresh copy upon _tafroo_, which serves again for the
reproduction of any number of _difra_ copies. The book, for the
convenience of this mode of reproduction, consists of a single sheet,
generally from four to eight inches in breadth and of any length
required. The writing intended to be thus copied is always minute, and
is read for the most part through magnifying spectacles. A roller is
attached to each end of the sheet, and when not in use the latter is
wound round that attached to the conclusion. When required for
reading, both rollers are fixed in a stand, and slowly moved by
clockwork, which spreads before the eyes of the reader a length of
about four inches at once. The motion is slackened or quickened at the
reader's pleasure, and can be stopped altogether, by touching a
spring. Another means of reproducing, not merely writings or drawings,
but natural objects, consists in a simple adaptation of the _camera
obscura_. [The only essential difference from our photographs being
that the Martial art reproduces colour as well as outline, I omit this
description.]

While I was practising myself in the Martial language my host turned
our experimental conversations chiefly, if not exclusively, upon
Terrestrial subjects; endeavouring to learn all that I could convey to
him of the physical peculiarities of the Earth, of geology, geography,
vegetation, animal life in all its forms, human existence, laws,
manners, social and domestic order. Afterwards, when, at the end of
some fifty days, he found that we could converse, if not with ease yet
without fear of serious misapprehension, he took an early opportunity
of explaining to me the causes and circumstances of my unfriendly
reception among his people.

"Your size and form," he said, "startled and surprised them. I gather
from what you have told me that on Earth there are many nations very
imperfectly known to one another, with different dress, language, and
manners. This planet is now inhabited by a single race, all speaking
the same tongue, using much the same customs, and differing from one
another in form and size much less widely than (I understand) do men
upon your Earth. There you might have been taken for a visitor from
some strange and unexplored country. Here it was clear that you were
not one of our race, and yet it was inconceivable what else you could
be. We have no giants; the tallest skeleton preserved in our museums
is scarcely a hand's breadth taller than myself, and does not, of
course, approach to your stature. Then, as you have pointed out, your
limbs are longer and your chest smaller in proportion to the rest of
the body; probably because, as you seem to say, your atmosphere is
denser than ours, and we require ampler lungs to inhale the quantity
of air necessary at each breath for the oxidation of the blood. Then
you were not dumb, and yet affected not to understand our language and
to speak a different one. No such creature could have existed in this
planet without having been seen, described, and canvassed. You did
not, therefore, belong to us. The story you told by signs was quickly
apprehended, and as quickly rejected as an audacious impossibility. It
was an insult to the intelligence of your hearers, and a sufficient
ground for suspecting a being of such size and physical strength of
some evil or dangerous design. The mob who first attacked you were
probably only perplexed and irritated; those who subsequently
interfered may have been animated also by scientific curiosity. You
would have been well worth anatomisation and chemical analysis. Your
mail-shirt protected you from the shock of the dragon, which was meant
to paralyse and place you at the mercy of your assailants; the metal
distributing the current, and the silken lining resisting its passage.
Still, at the moment when I interposed, you would certainly have been
destroyed but for your manoeuvre of laying hold of two of your
immediate escort. Our destructive weapons are far superior to any you
possess or have described. That levelled at you by my neighbour would
have sent to ten times your distance a small ball, which, bursting,
would have asphyxiated every living thing for several yards around.
But our laws regarding the use of such weapons are very stringent, and
your enemy dared not imperil the lives of those you held. Those laws
would not, he evidently thought, apply to yourself, who, as he would
have affirmed, could not be regarded as a man and an object of legal
protection."

He explained the motives and conduct of his countrymen with such
perfect coolness, such absence of surprise or indignation, that I felt
slightly nettled, and answered sarcastically, "If the slaughter of
strangers whose account of themselves appears improbable be so
completely a matter of course among you, I am at a loss to understand
your own interference, and the treatment I have received from yourself
and your family, so utterly opposite in spirit as well as in form to
that I met from everybody else."

"I do not," he answered, "always act from the motives in vogue among
my fellow-creatures of this planet; but why and how I differ from them
it might not be well to explain. It is for the moment of more
consequence to tell you why you have been kept in some sense a
prisoner here. My neighbours, independently of general laws, are for
certain reasons afraid to do me serious wrong. While in my company or
in my dwelling they could hardly attempt your life without endangering
mine or those of my family. If you were seen alone outside my
premises, another attempt, whether by the asphyxiator or by a
destructive animal, would probably be made, and might this time prove
successful. Till, therefore, the question of your humanity and right
to the protection of our law is decided by those to whom it has been
submitted, I will beg you not to venture alone beyond the bounds that
afford you security; and to believe that in this request, as in
detaining you perforce heretofore, I am acting simply for your own
welfare, and not," he added, smiling, "with a view to secure the first
opportunity of putting your relation to our race to the tests of the
dissecting table and the laboratory."

"But my story explained everything that seemed inexplicable; why was
it not believed? It was assumed that I could not belong to Mars; yet I
was a living creature in the flesh, and must therefore have come from
some other planet, as I could hardly be supposed to be an inhabitant
of space."

"We don't reason on impossibilities," replied my friend. "We have a
maxim that it is more probable that any number of witnesses should
lie, that the senses of any number of persons should be deluded, than
that a miracle should be true; and by a miracle we mean an
interruption or violation of the known laws of nature."

"One eminent terrestrial sceptic," I rejoined, "has said the same
thing, and masters of the science of probabilities have supported his
assertion. But a miracle should be a violation not merely of the known
but of all the laws of nature, and until you know all those laws, how
can you tell what is a miracle? The lifting of iron by a magnet—I
suppose you have iron and loadstones here as we have on Earth—was, to
the first man who witnessed it, just as complete a violation of the
law of gravity as now appears my voyage through space, accomplished by
a force bearing some relation to that which acts through the magnet."

"Our philosophers," he answered, "are probably satisfied that they
know nearly all that is to be known of natural laws and forces; and to
delusion or illusion human sense is undeniably liable."

"If," I said, "you cannot trust your senses, you may as well
disbelieve in your own existence and in everything around you, for you
know nothing save through those senses which are liable to illusion.
But we know practically that there are limits to illusion. At any
rate, your maxim leads directly and practically to the inference that,
since I do not belong to Mars and cannot have come from any other
world, I am not here, and in fact do not exist. Surely it was somewhat
illogical to shoot an illusion and intend to dissect a spectre! Is not
a fact the complete and unanswerable refutation of its impossibility?"

"A good many facts to which I could testify," he replied, "are in this
world confessed impossibilities, and if my neighbours witnessed them
they would pronounce them to be either impostures or illusions."

"Then," said I, somewhat indignantly, "they must prefer inferences
from facts to facts themselves, and the deductions of logic to the
evidence of their senses. Yet, if that evidence be wanting in
certainty, then, since no chain can be stronger than its weakest
point, inferences are doubly uncertain; first, because they are drawn
from facts reported by sense, and, secondly, because a flaw in the
logic is always possible."

"Do not repeat that o

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