THE children came willingly. With one of them on eachside of me, I approached the corner occupied by `Mein Herr'. `You don'tobject to children, I hope?' I began.

`Crabbed age and youth cannot live together!' the oldman cheerfully replied, with a most genial smile. `Now take a good lookat me, my children! You would guess me to be an old man, wouldn't you?'

At first sight, though his face had reminded me so mysteriouslyof `the Professor', he had seemed to be decidedly a younger man: but, whenI came to look into the wonderful depth of those large dreamy eyes, I felt,with a strange sense of awe, that he was incalculably older: he seemedto gaze at us out of some by-gone age, centuries away.

`I don't know if oo're an old man,' Bruno answered, asthe children, won over by the gentle voice, crept a little closer to him.`I thinks oo're eighty-three.'

`He is very exact!' said Mein Herr.

`Is he anything like right?' I said.

`There are reasons,' Mein Herr gently replied, `reasonswhich I am not at liberty to explain, for not mentioning definitely anyPersons, Places, or Dates. One remark only I will permit myself to make--thatthe period of life, between the ages of a hundred-and-sixty-five and ahundred-and-seventy-five, is a specially safe one.'

`How do you make that out?' I said.

`Thus. You would consider swimming to be a very safe amusement,if you scarcely ever heard of any one dying of it. Am I not right in thinkingthat you never heard of any one dying between those two ages?'

`I see what you mean,' I said: `but I'm afraid you ca'n'tprove swimming to be safe, on the same principle. It is no uncommon thingto hear of some one being drowned.'

`In my country,' said Mein Herr, `no one is ever drowned.'

`Is there no water deep enough?'

`Plenty! But we ca'n't sink. We are all lighter than water.Let me explain,' he added, seeing my look of surprise. `Suppose you desirea race of pigeons of a particular shape or colour, do you not select, fromyear to year, those that are nearest to the shape or colour you want, andkeep those, and part with the others?'

`We do,' I replied. `We call it "Artificial Selection."'

`Exactly so,' said Mein Herr. `Well, we have practisedthat for some centuries -- constantly selecting the lightest people: sothat, now, everybody is lighter than water.'

`Then you never can be drowned at sea?'

`Never! It is only on the land -- for instance, when attendinga play in a theatre -- that we are in such a danger.'

`How can that happen at a theatre?'

`Our theatres are all underground. Large tanks of waterare placed above. If a fire breaks out, the taps are turned, and in oneminute the theatre is flooded, up to the very roof! Thus the fire is extinguished.'

`And the audience, I presume?'

`That is a minor matter,' Mein Herr carelessly replied.`But they have the comfort of knowing that, whether drowned or not, theyare all lighter than water. We have not yet reached the standard of makingpeople lighter than air: but we are aiming at it; and, in another thousandyears or so--'

`What doos oo do wiz the peoples that's too heavy?' Brunosolemnly enquired.

`We have applied the same process,' Mein Herr continued,not noticing Bruno's question, `to many other purposes. We have gone onselecting walking-sticks -- always keeping those that walked best -- tillwe have obtained some, that can walk by themselves! We have gone on selectingcotton-wool, till we have got some lighter than air! You've no idea whata useful material it is! We call it "Imponderal".'

`What do you use it for?'

`Well, chiefly for packing articles, to go by Parcel-Post.It makes them weigh less than nothing, you know.'

`And how do the Post Office people know what you haveto pay?'

`That's the beauty of the new system!' Mein Herr criedexultingly. `They pay us: we don't pay them! I've often got as much asfive shillings for sending a parcel.'

`But doesn't your Government object?'

`Well, they do object a little. They say it comes so expensive,in the long run. But the thing's as clear as daylight, by their own rules.If I send a parcel, that weighs a pound more than nothing, I pay three-pence:so, of course, if it weighs a pound less than nothing, I ought to receivethree-pence.'

`It is indeed a useful article!' I said.

`Yet even "Imponderal" has its disadvantages,' he resumed.`I bought some, a few days ago, and put it into my hat, to carry it home,and the hat simply floated away!'

`Had oo some of that funny stuff in oor hat to-day?' Brunoenquired. `Sylvie and me saw oo in the road, and oor hat were ever so highup! Weren't it, Sylvie?'

`No, that was quite another thing,' said Mein Herr. `Therewas a drop or two of rain falling: so I put my hat on the top of my stick-- as an umbrella, you know. As I came along the road,' he continued, turningto me, `I was overtaken by--'

`--a shower of rain?' said Bruno.

`Well, it looked more like the tail of a dog,' Mein Herrreplied. `It was the most curious thing! Something rubbed affectionatelyagainst my knee. And I looked down. And I could see nothing! Only, abouta yard off, there was a dog's tail, wagging, all by itself!'

`Oh, Sylvie!' Bruno murmured reproachfully. `Oo didn'tfinish making him visible!'

`I'm so sorry!' Sylvie said, looking very penitent. `Imeant to rub it along his back, but we were in such a hurry. We'll go andfinish him to-morrow. Poor thing! Perhaps he'll get no supper to-night!'

`Course he won't!' said Bruno. `Nobody never gives bonesto a dog's tail!'

Mein Herr looked from one to the other in blank astonishment.`I do not understand you,' he said. `I had lost my way, and I was consultinga pocketmap, and somehow I had dropped one of my gloves, and this invisibleSomething, that had rubbed against my knee, actually brought it back tome!'

`Course he did!' said Bruno. `He's welly fond of fetchingthings.'

Mein Herr looked so thoroughly bewildered that I thoughtit best to change the subject. `What a useful thing a pocket-map is!' Iremarked.

`That's another thing we've learned from your Nation,'said Mein Herr, `map-making. But we've carried it much further than you.What do you consider the largest map that would be really useful?'

`About six inches to the mile.'

`Only six inches!' exclaimed Mein Herr. `We very soongot to six yards to the mile. Then we tried a hundred yards to the mile.And then came the grandest idea of all! We actually made a map of the country,on the scale of a mile to the mile!'

`Have you used it much?' I enquired.

`It has never been spread out, yet,' said Mein Herr: `thefarmers objected: they said it would cover the whole country, and shutout the sunlight! So we now use the country itself, as its own map, andI assure you it does nearly as well. Now let me ask you another question.What is the smallest world you would care to inhabit?'

`I know!' cried Bruno, who was listening intently. `I'dlike a little teenytiny world, just big enough for Sylvie and me!'

`Then you would have to stand on opposite sides of it,'said Mein Herr. `And so you would never see your sister at all!'

`And I'd have no lessons,' said Bruno.

`You don't mean to say you've been trying experimentsin that direction!' I said.

`Well, not experiments exactly. We do not profess to constructplanets. But a scientific friend of mine, who has made several balloon-voyages,assures me he has visited a planet so small that he could walk right roundit in twenty minutes! There had been a great battle, just before his visit,which had ended rather oddly: the vanquished army ran away at full speed,and in a very few minutes found themselves face-to-face with the victoriousarmy, who were marching home again, and who were so frightened at findingthemselves between two armies, that they surrendered at once! Of coursethat lost them the battle, though, as a matter of fact, they had killedall the soldiers on the other side.'

`Killed soldiers ca'n't run away,' Bruno thoughtfullyremarked.

`"Killed" is a technical word,' replied Mein Herr. `Inthe little planet I speak of, the bullets were made of soft black stuff,which marked everything it touched. So, after a battle, all you had todo was to count how many soldiers on each side were "killed" -- that means"marked on the back", for marks in front didn't count.'

`Then you couldn't "kill" any, unless they ran away?'I said.

`My scientific friend found out a better plan than that.He pointed out that, if only the bullets were sent the other way roundthe world, they would hit the enemy in the back. After that, the worstmarksmen were considered the best soldiers; and the very worst of all alwaysgot First Prize.'

`And how did you decide which was the very worst of all?'

`Easily. The best possible shooting is, you know, to hitwhat is exactly in front of you: so of course the worst possible is tohit what is exactly behind you.'

`They were strange people in that little planet!' I said.

`They were indeed! Perhaps their method of governmentwas the strangest of all. In this planet, I am told, a Nation consistsof a number of Subjects, and one King: but, in the little planet I speakof, it consisted of a number of Kings, and one Subject!'

`You say you are "told" what happens in this planet,'I said. `May I venture to guess that you yourself are a visitor from someother planet?'

Bruno clapped his hands in his excitement. `Is oo theMan-in-the-Moon?' he cried.

Mein Herr looked uneasy. `I am not in the Moon, my child,'he said evasively. `To return to what I was saying. I think that methodof government ought to answer well. You see, the Kings would be sure tomake Laws contradicting each other: so the Subject could never be punished,because, whatever he did he'd be obeying some Law.'

`And, whatever he did, he'd be disobeying some Law!' criedBruno. `So he'd always be punished!'

Lady Muriel was passing at the moment, and caught thelast word. `Nobody's going to be punished here!' she said, taking Brunoin her arms. `This is Liberty-Hall! Would you lend me the children fora minute?'

`The children desert us, you see,' I said to Mein Herr,as she carried them off: `so we old folk must keep each other company!'

The old man sighed. `Ah, well! We're old folk now; andyet I was a child myself, once--at least I fancy so.'

It did seem a rather unlikely fancy, I could not helpowning to myself--looking at the shaggy white hair, and the long beard--thathe could ever have been a child. `You are fond of young people?' I said.

`Young men,' he replied. `Not of children exactly. I usedto teach young men--many a year ago--in my dear old University!'

`I didn't quite catch its name?' I hinted.

`I did not name it,' the old man replied mildly. `Norwould you know the name if I did. Strange tales I could tell you of allthe changes I have witnessed there! But it would weary you, I fear.'

`No, indeed!' I said. `Pray go on. What kind of changes?'

But the old man seemed to be more in a humour for questionsthan for answers. `Tell me,' he said, laying his hand impressively on myarm, `tell me something. For I am a stranger in your land, and I know littleof your modes of education: yet something tells me we are further on thanyou in the eternal cycle of change--and that many a theory we have triedand found to fail, you also will try, with a wilder enthusiasm: you alsowill find to fail, with a bitterer despair!'

It was strange to see how, as he talked, and his wordsflowed more and more freely, with a certain rhythmic eloquence, his featuresseemed to glow with an inner light, and the whole man seemed to be transformed,as if he had grown fifty years younger in a moment of time.