[The record is here too broken to transcribe for the space of perhaps twenty words or more.]
‘He talked with his attendants, as I suppose, upon the strange superficiality and unreasonableness of (man), who lives on the mere surface of a world, a creature of waves and winds, and all the chances of space, who cannot even unite to overcome the beasts that prey upon his kind, and yet who dares to invade another planet. During this aside I sat thinking, and then at his desire I told him of the different sorts of men. He searched me with questions. “And for all sorts of work you have the same sort of men. But who thinks? Who governs?”
‘I gave him an outline of the democratic method.
‘When I had done he ordered cooling sprays upon his brow, and then requested me to repeat my explanation, conceiving something had miscarried.
‘ “Do they not do different things, then?” said Phi-oo.
‘Some I admitted were thinkers and some officials; some hunted, some were mechanics, some artists, some toilers. “But all rule,” I said.
‘ “And have they not different shapes to fit them to their different duties?”
‘ “None that you can see,” I said, “except, perhaps, for clothes. Their minds perhaps differ a little,” I reflected.
‘ “Their minds must differ a great deal,” said the Grand Lunar, “or they would all want to do the same things.”
‘In order to bring myself into a closer harmony with his preconceptions I said that his surmise was right. “It was all hidden in the brain,” I said; “but the difference was there. Perhaps if one could see the minds and souls of men they would be as varied and unequal as the Selenites. There were great men and small men, men who could reach out far and wide, and men who could go swiftly; noisy, trumpet-minded men, and men who could remember without thinking. . . . [The record is indistinct for three words.]
‘He interrupted me to recall me to my previous statement. “But you said all men rule?” he pressed.
‘ “To a certain extent,” I said, and made, I fear, a denser fog with my explanation.
‘He reached out to a salient fact. “Do you mean,” he asked, “that there is no Grand Earthly?”
‘I thought of several people, but assured him finally there was none. I explained that such autocrats and emperors as we had tried upon earth had usually ended in drink, or vice, or violence, and that the large and influential section of the people of the earth to which I belonged, the Anglo-Saxons, did not mean to try that sort of thing again. At which the Grand Lunar was even more amazed.
‘ “But how do you keep even such wisdom as you have?” he asked; and I explained to him the way we helped our limited [a word omitted here, probably ‘brains’] with libraries of books. I explained to him how our science was growing by the united labours of innumerable little men, and on that he made no comment save that it was evident we had mastered much in spite of our social savagery, or we could not have come to the moon. Yet the contrast was very marked. With knowledge the Selenites grew and changed; mankind stored their knowledge about them and remained brutes — equipped. He said this . . . [Here there is a short piece of the record indistinct.]
‘He then caused me to describe how we went about this earth of ours, and I described to him our railways and ships. For a time he could not understand that we had had the use of steam only one hundred years, but when he did he was clearly amazed. (I may mention as a singular thing that the Selenites use years to count by, just as we do on earth, though I can make nothing of their numeral system. That, however, does not matter, because Phi-oo understands ours.) From that I went on to tell him that mankind had dwelt in cities only for nine or ten thousand years, and that we were still not united in one brotherhood, but under many different forms of government. This astonished the Grand Lunar very much, when it was made clear to him. At first he thought we referred merely to administrative areas.
‘ “Our States and Empires are still the rawest sketches of what order will some day be,” I said, and so I came to tell him. . . . [At this point a length of record that probably represents thirty or forty words is totally illegible.]
‘The Grand Lunar was greatly impressed by the folly of men in clinging to the inconvenience of diverse tongues. “They want to communicate, and yet not to communicate,” he said, and then for a long time he questioned me closely concerning war.
‘He was at first perplexed and incredulous. “You mean to say,” he asked, seeking confirmation, “that you run about over the surface of your world — this world, whose riches you have scarcely begun to scrape — killing one another for beasts to eat?”
‘I told him that was perfectly correct.
‘He asked for particulars to assist his imagination. “But do not ships and your poor little cities get injured?” he asked, and I found the waste of property and conveniences seemed to impress him almost as much as the killing. “Tell me more,” said the Grand Lunar; “make me see pictures. I cannot conceive these things.”
‘And so, for a space, though something loth, I told him the story of earthly War.
‘I told him of the first orders and ceremonies of war, of warnings and ultimatums, and the marshalling and marching of troops. I gave him an idea of manoeuvres and positions and battle joined. I told him of sieges and assaults, of starvation and hardship in trenches and of sentinels freezing in the snow. I told him of routs and surprises, and desperate last stands and faint hopes, and the pitiless pursuit of
