At the different entertainments I noticed a great deal of promiscuity such as would hardly be tolerated in aristocratic English society. Not that there was ever anyone present who was not perfectly well-bred. But intellect was the principal passport to social privileges here, and we all know that intellectuality may languish in obscure corners in England, unless backed by strong personal or monetary interest, and that our class prejudices are unpleasantly strong.
A young mechanician whom I met at the house of one of the Prime Advisers was a universal favourite, and his modesty and good sense were admirable foils to the plethora of self-esteem which I have seen engendered in English “lions” for far less potent reasons. I was told that his inventions and improvements in matters relating to sanitary science were so marvellous and of so beneficent a nature, that he was to be rewarded with the medal of the Order of Merit, an honour which, it will be observed, was well worth having, he being only the thirtieth recipient within two hundred years.
It was not difficult for me to secure an interview with him, as mutual curiosity drew us together. If I had expected his conversation to savour of “shop,” I was strongly mistaken, for not a word of his own great achievements did he breathe, and he drew me out so skilfully, that half-an-hour passed in conversation with him before his professional instincts were at all aroused, and then it was in response to some reply I had made respecting the locality in which I resided when last I remembered being in my own country.
“Within fifteen minutes walk of the house in which George Stephenson resided!” he exclaimed in great wonderment. “I always understood that it was quite a humble affair. Surely it must have crumbled to dust centuries ago?”
“By no means.” I returned. “The cottage looked very pretty and picturesque the last time I saw it. It is tenanted by people who take a pride in the garden, and it would compare favourably in external appearance with any other cottage of the same size in England. It is known locally as the ‘Dial House,’ as it boasts a sundial of which some portion was the work of Stephenson himself. At the end of the house is a very well-stocked greenhouse, and the space of ground in which the great engineer had some lines laid for experimental purposes is converted into a kitchen garden.”
“It seems so incredible, that I can hardly take it all in,” said John Saville, with a smile which robbed his words of all possibility of giving offence. “Nevertheless, I would give much to be able to see the same place, and witness the actual scenes in which a great genius conceived the wonderful inventions which revolutionised the commerce and social relations of the world.”
“But you would not appear to venerate Stephenson’s inventions very much, since you have discarded them altogether in favour of other systems of locomotion.”
“True. But our electric-hydraulic-ways are in reality gradual evolvements arising from the basis afforded by a knowledge of locomotive travelling, as it still existed a few centuries ago. And we can never forget that for some hundreds of years railways were the chief factors of civilisation.”
“There is another thing which New Amazonians have discarded, for no sufficient reason it seems to me.”
“And that is?”