“Some on the earth recognize the same truth in reference to our race,” I said. “But, in general, people do not think much of such things, or if they think they do not say much. In fact, religious subjects are not as a rule popular in conversation.”
“Why, what reason can there be for that?” Thorwald inquired with eager interest.
“Oh, there is too much indifference in the matter,” I replied. “I suppose most men do not think their relations to their Maker important enough to give them any concern. And even the best among us shrink from urging their opinions on others, partly because they know they are not perfect examples themselves, and also from the feeling that their friends are intelligent beings and ought to know, as well as they do, what is best for them.”
“Oh, then, my dear Doctor,” said Thorwald, “I perceive that I have committed a breach of etiquette in forcing this subject upon you, and in asking you to put yourself in the way of receiving spiritual impressions.”
“In the circumstances, I think you are excusable,” replied the doctor; “and, besides, I believe I introduced the topic.”
“If you stay long with us,” resumed Thorwald, “you will become accustomed to religious conversation, for here there is entire freedom in such matters. Our spiritual experiences and the great possibilities of the future state are exceedingly pleasant things to talk about, we think, and we feel no more sensitiveness in doing it than in conversing on the ordinary affairs of life. Being relieved of so many of the cares pertaining to your existence, our minds are the more prepared to occupy themselves with these high themes, and what is more natural than that we should often like to speak to each other about them? As these things become more real to you and the necessity of spending so much time in caring for the body diminishes, you will gradually lose your present feeling. You will also find that, in making these subjects familiar, they need not lose dignity and you need not lose reverence.”
“Thorwald,” asked the doctor, “could you not give us a brief sketch of your career, so that we may compare it with that of our race?”
“I will do the best I can,” answered Thorwald. “I think that is a good suggestion, and after that is done any of us can tell you the history of different epochs as opportunity offers. You are both such good listeners that it is a pleasure to talk to you, but I want you to promise to interrupt me with questions whenever you wish anything more fully explained.”
We promised to do so, and Thorwald began:
“Our world is very old. The geologic formations tell us of a time when no life could exist—long ages of convulsion and change in the crust of the globe. In time the conflict of the elements subsided and the boundaries between land and water were established. Then came vegetable life, rank and abundant, preparing stores of coal and oil for use in the far future. Animals followed, the first forms crude and monstrous, but succeeded by others better adapted to be the contemporaries and companions of our race.