A MORNING TALK.
Next morning we arose early, but found the family already up. Thorwald
seemed disposed to lose no time in showing and telling us everything
interesting, and so invited us at once to the top of the house, to take
a view of the country. The sun was just rising, and its pleasant rays
lighted up a scene of surpassing beauty. We seemed to be set in the
middle of a vast park, whose boundaries extended in all directions as
far as we could see. The landscape presented the most varied character,
wood and water, hill and plain, and every feature needed to make a
most delightful picture. Not the least of its charms, and perhaps
the greatest, was the profusion of color, which filled the vision and
satisfied the sense of beauty with its contrasts and its harmonies. Some
of the hills might justly be called mountains, and yet on the rugged
sides as well as on the summit of each were grand mansions surrounded by
cultivated fields.
The doctor made some remark about this latter fact, and Thorwald said:
“These situations, which would be almost inaccessible without the aid
of electricity, are now the favorite sites for building. This wonderful
power levels all hills in the ease with which it does its work. No task
is too hard for it and it asks no sympathy, so we may as well ride and
carry our freight up hill, if we prefer it, and build our houses on the
mountain tops. One characteristic of our nature has not changed, and
there is still a great variety of taste, so that plenty of people choose
the lower land to build upon. I see by your faces that you both admire
this panorama and think we were wise to place our house on such high
ground. We like to have our friends take this view in the morning, when
the world has been freshened by the night’s rain.”
“Is it not just as beautiful at sunset after a shower?” I asked.
“Oh,” answered Thorwald, “I haven’t told you that it never rains in the
day-time, have I?”
“No, indeed, that’s another surprise for us. But how is it managed?”
“You will remember I told you,” said Thorwald in reply, “that it was
found that rain enough fell for all parts of the world if it could only
be rightly distributed. Then when we had discovered by a long series of
experiments how to make the clouds shed their water at our pleasure, we
set about devising a means whereby we could give each section the right
quantity of rain at just the right time.
“We established a central bureau in each country and let the people in
every city or district vote and send in their request for a shower or
a long rain ten days in advance. At first it required only a majority
vote, but this occasioned no end of trouble, as half the community would
often believe they were suffering for want of rain when the other
half wanted fair weather. Then the rule was changed so as to make a
three-quarters vote necessary, which did not help matters much, for very
often the crops would be seriously damaged before so large a proportion
of the people could be brought to see the desirability of a rainy day.
“At length the happy thought was conceived of letting it rain over each
part of the country every night, and giving the right to vote only on
the quantity desired. This keeps everything fresh and has been found of
immense benefit to vegetation. Besides, it inconveniences no one, in the
present state of our society, however it might have been when the plan
was first adopted.”
“What of those people,” I asked, “whose occupation or pleasure calls
them out in the night?”
“We have no such class,” replied Thorwald. “We have found by long
experience that it is best to follow the indication of nature, and
take the day for labor and the night for rest. This practice and the
attention devoted to our diet have been chief factors in lengthening the
span of our lives. If this line of action is best for one it is best for
all, and, as everybody is doing the best he can, it follows that there
are literally no people out at night.”
“I suppose you would call me stupid again,” said I, “if I should ask if
you have any such old-time personages as guardians of the peace.”
“Indeed I should,” answered our friend, “for you ought to know us
better. If you will excuse a poor witticism, the peace is old enough on
our planet to go without a guardian.”
As we smiled at this the doctor was encouraged to try his hand, but, not
feeling equal to addressing a pleasantry to the usually august Martian,
he turned to me and remarked:
“This would be a pretty poor place for an umbrella trust, wouldn’t it?”
As we left our place of outlook and made our way down stairs, Thorwald
resumed:
“As I have said before, we have reached our present happy condition
through many bitter experiences. We read that at one time people had so
much work to do and were so thoughtless as to what was good for their
physical welfare that they began to rob themselves of their proper rest.
Others found it convenient to follow occupations which obliged them to
work all night and get what sleep they could in the day-time. Night was
considered about the only time that could be utilized, also, for the
activities of social life.
“This condition lasted a long time, with the tendency continually
toward the practice of encroaching more and more upon the hours of rest
appointed by nature. It was then the period of making many laws, and
large and influential legislative bodies began to set a bad example to
the rest of the world by holding their sessions mainly in the night.
Newspapers thought it necessary to appear full-fledged at the break of
day, and the railroads made but little distinction between darkness and
daylight in the matter of carrying people hither and thither. The change
was slow, but it was in the wrong direction. Darkness was driven out by
more improved methods of lighting, and houses and streets were brilliant
the whole night long; and it finally became the fashion in both society
and business circles literally to turn night into day. For a time that
remained the universal custom, strange as it seems to us now, but the
practice of sleeping in the day-time never became natural. This means
that the whole world was living on from year to year without the amount
of rest required to keep the race alive. There could be but one result.
A brood of nervous troubles fell upon us; life began to shorten, and
we became aware that a serious crisis was before us. As soon as we were
convinced that we were bringing all this evil upon ourselves by our
disregard of the laws of nature, there was a change; and it is well
for us that there was still virility enough left in the race to make a
change possible. A gradual reform was instituted which, overcoming many
difficulties and delays but with no serious set-backs, brought us, after
long years, to our present happy way. Of course, our improvement in
every other direction, moral as well as physical, assisted us all along
in this reform. Now, looking back on our course, and comparing our
present with our former state, we are perfectly sure what is best for
us, and he would be a rash man who should intimate that we are not doing
right in using the night for rest.
“But this is getting to be quite a long talk for so early in the
morning. Let us see if breakfast is not ready.”
This meal proved to be as appetizing as the first, although the dishes
were entirely different; being made up, apparently, of fruit and
cereals.
The doctor and I had been exceedingly interested in the way the dinner
of the evening before had been served. We did not understand it, and now
we were equally puzzled to see the breakfast courses come and go. No one
came in to make any change in the table, and our hostess seemed to
have as little to do with it as the rest of us. She presided with great
dignity, and, as I watched the changes going on with such perfect ease
and quiet, I could not refrain from saying:
“If it is proper for me to ask, will you tell us how this is done, Mrs.
----”
“We do not use those titles now,” she interrupted. “Call me Zenith, the
name by which I was introduced to you. I suppose Thorwald has told you
that electricity does nearly all our work. I arrange things in order
before the meal begins, and then by merely touching a button under
the table the apparatus is set in motion which brings and takes away
everything in the manner you see.”
“It is wonderful,” I exclaimed. “And if we are to believe all that
Thorwald has told us, I suppose you have no servants for any department
of work.”
“You are not entirely right,” she returned. “We have excellent servants.
This obedient power, that does our work so willingly, is our servant,
and so is the mechanism with which our houses are filled, and through
which this silent force is exerted. Many of our animals are domesticated
and trained to do light services, but as for servants of our own flesh
and blood, no such class exists. We all share whatever work there is,
and no labor is menial. Whatever I ask others to do I am glad to do for
them when occasion offers. Do not suppose we are idle. There is work for
us, but with our abundant strength and continual good health it is never
a burden. Then there are the duties connected with our higher life and
education, for we are ever seeking to fit ourselves for a still better
existence than this.”
We had now finished breakfast and were walking through the house.
Zenith was a beautiful woman, although, from our point of view, of such
generous proportions. She possessed the perfect form and the vigor and
health of all the Martians. She was, moreover, graceful, modest, and
winning. But Thorwald and the other men that we had seen possessed these
latter qualities also, and Zenith exhibited the same strength of mind
and the same devotion to lofty aims as her husband. In their equipment
for the duties of life and in the ability to do valiant service for
their kind they seemed equal. Evidently neither had a monopoly of any
class of advantages, either of mind, body, or estate.