Myself. Is that really so? Do your fields and trees and hillsides present at all times the same hue?
“Yes; the colour never alters, and nature in this region is never weary in its development, and never halts in the manifestation of her power; she goes from strength to strength, and with increased vigour as the years roll on.”
Myself. A strange phenomenon this! Can you account for the existence of such perennial inherent power?
“Oh yes. Upon our mountains, valleys, and plains there perpetually descend from above constant showers of ethereal riches. Our earth thus daily receives from heaven even more riches than she gives in flower and fruit, and grass, and vegetable matter. Thus she daily and hourly becomes richer and more bountiful.”
Myself. But suppose the spring, the perennial fountain, of this life-giving bounty and luxuriance, were to fail or to dry up, what would be your position then? From whence could you then obtain your supply?
“Of such a calamity we entertain no dread. For thousands of years this process has been going on, and through years unnumbered it will be continued. In your world there is a gradual decay; nature there is exhausting herself. For the present you have enough and to spare; but how will it be, what will your people do, when the virgin soil of the world on the other side of the Atlantic becomes exhausted? That time must come; what will your people do then?”
Myself. Before that day arrives humanity will become etherealized, spirit-like, and super-mundane. As a race, sir, we are not destined to continue the sordid, cloddy, and vulgar eating people we now are. Oh, no; the earthly tabernacle is to be put off, and we shall live on angels’ food.
“Your race then, sir, has the hope and prospect of dwelling in a sphere beyond your present world?”
Myself. Most assuredly.